by Robyn Amos

Prologue

Hanging out in bars and picking up men for money was getting really old.

Jaunie Sterling smoothed a strand of her long dark hair behind one ear and gave Trenton Douglas, that night's pickup, full view of her stunning profile.

"I voted for Senator Maxwell, too." As she spoke, her Plum Paradise-colored lips fell naturally into the seductive smile she'd perfected during her days as a model.

That night she was Dominique. According to Trent's fiancée, he preferred beautiful, politically aware women. And of course, Dominique was both. She fingered the wispy hem of her Versace cocktail dress. Purple—his favorite color. Just as the scent she wore, Escape, and the wine she sipped, Cabernet Sauvignon, were his favorites. Poor Trent didn't stand a chance.

The trap had been set. Erika Maxwell lured her fiancé to the hotel lounge supposedly to meet for a date. Then, after he'd arrived, she called from a cellular phone outside, claiming she couldn't make it after all. Before Trent could leave, Dominique made her move.

Now, regarding her prey through the thick fringe of her mascara, Jaunie tried not to sigh. For months, she'd been losing enthusiasm for this job. Helping women catch their cheating lovers was disheartening work. She no longer relished the cool flavor of revenge that came with sending stray dogs back to the pound. Her salvation was that her boss at Intimate Investigations, Alan Warren, and Erika were in the car, listening to every word. Thank goodness this would be over soon.

Trent changed the subject from politics to his work as a contractor. And as the rich, animated tones of his voice vibrated over her, Jaunie's gaze fell on his fingers tapping absently on the bar. He had beautiful hands. The hands of a creator.

Distracted, she stared into sable eyes warm enough to melt butter and mentally raised an eyebrow. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. The way he cocked his head when he talked had an endearing, little boy quality that made him likable on sight. She blinked as a wave of acute disappointment washed over her.

Under normal circumstances, she probably would have liked him. But unfortunately, no one passed this test.She'd been working as a decoy for four years, and no matter how long the men held out, they all gave in eventually.

She needed only to make the right offer. And all she had to do was offer. As soon as the men accepted, the game was over. The unlucky man's wife or girlfriend would come inside, mad enough to lynch their lying lovers.

Usually, Jaunie had no problem sympathizing with the women she worked for. Most had strong provocation backing their suspicions. Their men either had a history of cheating or were outrageous flirts. But in this case, Erika claimed that Trent had never so much as smiled at another woman. Since he stood to gain a lot of money and some important political connections after they were married, she had to be certain of his fidelity beforehand. Hence the test.

Maybe if she'd liked Erika Maxwell more, Jaunie wouldn't have found herself hoping her feminine wiles would fail. She almost wished Trenton Douglas would pass Erika's little test just to confirm that the woman didn't deserve him. But it was already too late.

Sparks crackled between them. The unmistakable heat in his gaze told her all she needed to know—he wanted her. Suddenly Jaunie wanted the whole scene over as quickly as possible. He made her wish for things she had no right to want.

Casually, she propped her elbow on the bar, pretending not to notice as her gauzy strap slid over her shoulder and halfway down her arm. And, as she'd expected, his gaze traced the trail of the delicate strap. She stared at him until he raised his gaze to hers. It was time to make her move.

"I have a room upstairs, 607. I'd hate to go back alone." Desire flamed in his eyes as if she'd struck a match. And as sure as matches burned fingers when held too long, Jaunie knew if she didn't look away, Trent's gaze would burn her with its intensity.

But in an instant the flame died, and his eyes became smoky. He took a somewhat shaky breath. "I—I'm sorry, Dominique. This is my fault. I must have led you on . . . but that wasn't my intention. You see, I'm engaged."

Dominique caught her breath in surprise while Jaunie secretly applauded. But she had to play this out to its end. She placed her hand on his arm. "I won't tell, if you don't tell."

Trent shook his head, gently but firmly removing her hand. "I'm sorry, Dominique, you're very beautiful and. . . ." He sighed with what sounded like frustration. "I don't have a good excuse for not telling you sooner. I guess I just enjoyed talking to you, and I didn't want to spoil it. But don't take this the wrong way. You're beautiful, you're intelligent, and if I wasn't in love with someone else. . . ."

She tried to read his eyes, searching for a sign that he would give in if she pressured him. Instead, she saw nothing but sincerity and genuine regret. Something shifted inside her—the part of her that had been afraid to trust, to believe this was possible. Jaunie had never been so happy to be rejected in her life.

"I understand," she whispered. "Whoever your fiancée is, she's a lucky woman." Jaunie set one foot on the floor, already halfway off her barstool. She hoped she could slip away, and this uniquely faithful man would never know that his fiancée had set him up.

She reached for her purse lying on the bar. "Good-bye Trent. You'll never know what a pleasure it was to meet you."

She turned around and came face to face with Erika Maxwell. Jaunie held her breath, praying that the woman wouldn't acknowledge her.

Erika looked straight past her. "Trent, I knew you weren't like the others."

Jaunie didn't turn around to see Trent's face, but she could hear the confusion in his voice when he asked, "What are you doing here?"

Jaunie felt Erika's hand on her arm. She wanted to pull away but instead was frozen to the spot. She pressed her eyes closed, waiting for the ax to fall.

"I hired this woman to test you. At the agency, they said few men could resist such an ideal temptation, but I thought you'd be different. I just had to be sure before the wedding."

Jaunie heard nothing but silence behind her, and with trepidation rising in her stomach, she turned around.

Trent laughed softly. His dark eyes were cold and hard, conveying his lack of humor. "Did I hear you correctly? You hired her," his voiced dripped with disdain, "to hit on me so you could see if I would be faithful after we were married?"

"Yes, baby." Erika moved to his side, reaching for him. "But you passed."

"Really?" Trent pulled away, shaking his head. "Then you failed. Everyone warned me about you. I should have listened."

Jaunie smiled in triumph. Erika was getting what she deserved. The woman sputtered in cold outrage, but Trent had already dismissed her. His gaze was now on Jaunie. Her heart skipped. The loathing in his eyes made her feel almost dirty.

"Dominique? What are you . . . some kind of high-priced hooker?"

Numbly, she shook her head. "No, I'm not. I just—"

" Doesn't matter," he said in her ear as he passed. "You might as well be."

He left both women without a backward glance—Erika in a seething rage and Jaunie stunned silent.

Jaunie had never felt so low in all her life. She saw her boss, Alan, at the end of the bar, watching the entire scene. She met his eyes silently as she realized that she'd come to a pivotal moment in her career. Jaunie had vowed that if she ever came across a man honest enough to pass this test, she'd quit working for Intimate Investigations.

Trenton Douglas had restored her faith in the opposite sex. Unfortunately, at that same moment, she may have destroyed his.