She just stripped in front of an NYPD detective...
The glow-in-the-dark water at Camp Sunny Woods left Chloe Saunders with the ability to disappear from sight.
Thirteen years later, she uses her “gift” to take out criminals when she can. If she’s got to be part of a freak show, she’s going to do some good while in the buff.
And he’s enjoying studying every luscious curve…
Color blind detective Jacob Greiff smokes to weaken the overwhelming messages his nose sends him. One summer camp trip was enough for him. His priority right now is busting the vigilante leaving burglars tied up with panty hose and women’s scarves.
He thinks he’s hallucinating when he sees a petite, bare foot brunette in an enormous trench coat at his crime scenes because for the first time in years, he’s seeing someone in full color.
He’s not sure he’s buying it, but Chloe sure looks great when she’s “invisible.”
Despite his own supernatural abilities and the raging lust between them, Greiff wonders if Chloe isn’t some kind of nut who gets off on public nudity. She insists she can disappear from view when naked, that he’s the only one who can see her when she’s in the buff.
Their shared past comes to a treacherous intersection when a man shows up at Chloe’s apartment and informs them at gun point it’s time to report for duty—or else.
Chloe looked the detective over and rolled her eyes. She paused at her apartment long enough to chuck her purse inside. He followed her back to the elevator and she wished she’d put on a different outfit. One with underwear and a bra. The man was so hot most of her thoughts were consumed with taking clothes off, not keeping them on. And he kept looking down her top at her boobs. Part of her, the perverse part, wanted to yank up the tank top and flash him to see his reaction. She’d been naked loads of times in front of people, but they didn’t know she was there. It made the whole nudity thing seem mundane.
Except for where he was concerned. Every time she felt his gaze moving over her butt or breasts, hell, even the back of her neck, arousal curled in her belly and set goose bumps marching over her skin.
“So, what else do you have to get for your neighbor?”
“A pigeon and a cheesecake.” She glanced at him from beneath her eyelashes and caught him staring. He chuckled and shrugged. “You can buy the cheesecake as well, since I’m providing you with a peep show.”
“Can’t help myself.”
“Right. Look, if you keep doing that I’m going to have to insist on tit for tat.” They continued down the hallway, he with both hands shoved in his pockets, Chloe with her arms swinging freely.
“And what would that imply?” His voice dropped an octave, bringing the damned goose bumps out in force.
“Simple. I show you mine, you show me yours. Although, you’re in the red right now, since the subway incident.” The words thrilled her. She’d never had the opportunity to engage in this kind of banter. She should be on the road and headed for a new town and existence. Instead she was here, defying protocol, flirting with a hot-ass cop, and outright challenging him to a sex game.
“I disagree. If I accept your challenge, it starts now. We’d have to start over again, so technically I haven’t seen any naked body parts.” He pressed the button on the wall to call the elevator.
She glared down her nose at him and crossed her arms over her breasts. The effect didn’t work too well, since he was much taller, but she gave it her best impervious-haughty-queen bee try. His lips twitched and he stepped closer. She narrowed her eyes, fighting the jumble of excitement and nerves in her belly before taking a step of her own forward. The front of her flip flops bumped into his dress shoes.
“I think you’re trying to work the system here.” The heat of his body and the tingle of sexual arousal had brought her closer than she realized, and their chests collided.
“Maybe. I’m attracted to you.” He put his left hand on the wall next to her head. “I want to kiss you.”
“Yeah?” She ran one finger down his tie, tracing the pattern. The elevator bell chimed and the door slid open. A few steps to the right and she could be inside. The intensity in his eyes held her still.
“Yeah.” He brought his right hand out as well and stroked the exposed skin at her waist between tank top and pants with his thumb. “May I?”
Jennifer James hates to talk about herself in the third person and has now started so many series books she’s wondering if she has a mental illness. A traditionally published author who recently dipped her toes into the oceans of Indie land; she’s finding the water quite nice and plans on sticking around. She loves Dirty Palmers in the summer, Spiked Cocoas in the winter, and Jack and Honey with Pepsi any time at all. Recent college grad, wife, mother, cat wrangler, and dog belly scratcher, Jenn spends a lot of time at her computer, frowning at the shenanigans of people only she can hear.