Negative Image

“Keep your eyes closed,” Dean ordered in a voice as warm as the hand gently covering her eyes.

What was he up to?

“No peeking.” He draped his other around her shoulder and led her from the bedroom where they’d given into their attraction and spent a passion-filled night.

“Ooh, are we heading to my room now?” Lisa joked. If anyone had told her a month ago she would be doing this, she would’ve laughed in their face.

Assigned to cover the inaugural ball for Senator Richard Milford III, Lisa Clarke had caught more than photos of the politician with her camera. She’d captured the image of a serial killer who promptly added her to his victim list.

Attacked from behind in her apartment later that night, she’d miraculously escaped when he discovered she didn’t have her camera.

“If you don’t want to become my next victim, then get me tonight’s negatives. I’ll be in touch. Oh, and here’s a little something to remember me by.” The cold blade pressed against her throat sliced through the first layer of skin. Burning turned to stinging when he wiped her neck with a white satin scarf—his calling card—then blindfolded her with the stained cloth. “Don’t try anything foolish. I know where you live. I know where you work…” Hot breath hit her flesh in unwelcome spurts when he leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be watching you.”

Afterward, instead of going to her office where she’d left the camera, Lisa had driven straight to the nearest precinct. The police promptly procured her equipment and developed the pictures, but she’d never seen her attacker and couldn’t identify him. She’d stewed under police protection ever since.

That was how she’d met Detective Dean Jennings.