SOME PEOPLE THINK LIFE is full of second chances. But the
way Lexie Foster saw it, do-overs didn't come around that
often. When you got the chance for one, you'd better grab
it and make it good.
Or so Lexie tried to explain to her best friend, Candace
French, as they lingered over frozen macchiatos on a mid-
June afternoon in the coffee shop of the building where
they worked in downtown Denver.
Where Lexie used to work, that is. "Call me dense, but I'm
just not getting this," Candace said as she stabbed a
straw into her drink. "Your first day back at work since
the accident and you quit? Why?"
"I never liked working at Culpepper and Piper." Lexie took
a long pull on the macchiato, savoring the rich caramel
and coffee flavor. She'd never really appreciated things
like good coffee drinks before, but those days were
over. "I've wasted too much time already in that dead-end
job," she explained. "The accident taught me that life is
too precious to waste a second of it."
She didn't remember much about the accident itself, but
the feelings surrounding the night lingered: the heart-
stopping terror as she felt her car begin to slide on the
icy road and watched it hurtle toward the guardrail; the
confusion as she tried to see the ambulance lights pulsing
somewhere to her left through a haze of blood, garbled
voices shouting unintelligible words; the bleakness that
washed over her upon waking in the stark white world of
the hospital, unable to move; the incredible joy when
they'd released her restraints and she'd discovered she
would fully recover; the desire to get out into the world
and experience everything that had consumed her during
almost six months of rehab.
She sucked up more of the macchiato with a satisfying
slurp and looked at Candace. "I'm going to do all the
things I was too timid or busy or lazy to do before."
Candace looked skeptical. "What kind of things?"
"I've made a list." Lexie opened her purse and pulled out
the little red leather notebook she'd bought especially
for this purpose. "I've written one hundred things I
intend to accomplish."
Candace opened the book and scanned the first page. "Have
affairs with at least six men before I'm thirty?" Her eyes
widened. "That's only three years."
Lexie flushed. "That's one every six months."
"You haven't had that many relationships in six years.
Have you?"
She shook her head. "That's the whole point. I'm not going
to live the way I did before." The "old" Lexie had been
conventional, conservative and too concerned about what
other people thought of her to take many chances.
The "new" Lexie reasoned that life was too short to let
anyone else's rules dictate how she should live.
"But six? Don't you think that's a little ambitious? Maybe
you should start slowly and work up."
She smiled. "You haven't read the rest of the list."
Candace flipped through the book, her eyes widening as she
read. "What? You can't be serious."
"Why not?"
"I've always thought of you as, well, conservative.
Reserved."
"I was. I'm not going to be that way anymore." Candace
cleared her throat and glanced at the book again. "Have
sex in a public place? Do something kinky?" She fanned
herself. "That must have been some near-death experience."
Lexie shifted in her chair. "Those are fantasies. Don't
you have fantasies?"
"Yes, but I don't write them down and set out to make them
come true."
"Then maybe you should."
Candace returned the book to Lexie. "Maybe you're right.
And it sounds like you're going to have a lot of fun. But
what does this have to do with quitting your job?"
She tapped the cover of the book. "Number four on the
list — no more settling for boring and conventional just
because it's convenient. I'm going to find a better job.
One that's more exciting, or at least interesting."
"Such as?"
"I saw this ad in the Sunday paper. It's perfect." She
took out the clipping from the Denver Post and showed it
to Candace.
"Private detective seeks administrative assistant. Must be
organized, computer literate and have superior phone
skills." Candace frowned and returned the clipping to
Lexie. "It's still a secretary. It'll probably turn out to
be just as boring as what you're doing now. And not as
well-paid."
Lexie shrugged. "If I don't like it, I'll find something
else. Number eighteen on the list."
"Which is?"
"Embrace change as good."
"Uh-huh. Then what about ditching the scarves?" Lexie
touched the paisley silk scarf knotted at her neck.
"I will. I'm just waiting for the scars to fade a little
more."
Candace shook her head. "They're not that bad." Lexie made
a face. "They look pretty awful to me." The doctors had to
insert a breathing tube in her throat to save her. That
and the surgery to repair the resulting hole had left
scars that stood out white against her olive skin. Every
time she looked in the mirror she cringed.
"So what about all these men you're going to have affairs
with?" Candace asked. "Are you going to keep your neck
covered while you're making love? Or turn out all the
lights?"
"It won't matter so much with them. I'll have my mind on
other things." At least she hoped that would be the case.
"Where are you going to find these men?" Candace asked.
"They're everywhere." Lexie smiled. "I'm sure I won't have
any trouble finding them."
"No, you won't." She leaned over and patted Lexie's
hand. "I'm really proud of you. You go. Wow 'em all."
Lexie tried to look more confident than she felt. It was
one thing to sit at home at night and conjure up all these
fantasies, quite another to go out and make them into
reality. But she'd promised herself she'd do this. Almost
dying had made her see how much she'd cheated herself by
always playing it safe. Time to take a few chances and
really live.
NICK DELANEY GROANED and leaned back in his chair after
interviewing yet another ditzy young woman who chewed gum
the entire time and appeared incapable of alphabetizing
correctly. That's what he got for expecting to find a
competent assistant on the salary he could afford.
He shifted his gaze to the stack of mail on the corner of
his desk. Bills, mostly. Some junk mail. Maybe even a new
client or two, but between working cases and trying to
find someone to help him in the office, he hadn't time to
read his mail. Every day he didn't have an assistant was a
day he was likely losing money.
A knock on the door reminded him he had more interviews to
conduct. He only hoped one of these applicants was at
least mildly qualified. "Come in," he called, sitting up
straight.
A looker in a black skirt and sleeveless purple blouse
walked in. She had short dark hair, and wore expensive-
looking gold earrings and a black silk scarf knotted at
her throat. The impression she gave was a combination of
sophistication and sexiness — a definite cut above the
candidates he'd seen so far.
He rose to greet her, his gaze dropping to her legs, which
were long and sleek. Very nice. But could she handle a
computer?
He offered his hand. "I'm Nick Delaney. And you are?"
"Lexie Foster." She sat in the chair across the desk and
crossed her legs at the ankles. She wore ankle-strap high
heels, a particular favorite of his.
He cleared his throat and focused his attention on the
résumé she'd slid across the desk. He hadn't been in
Denver long enough to start dating anyone, but clearly he
was overdue for some female companionship. His ex-wife had
rid him of the idea of wasting his time on anything long-
term, but there was a lot to be said for momentary
gratification. A good lay might help him keep his mind out
of the gutter and on his work.
His eyebrows rose as he read Lexie's résumé. If everything
on here was true, she was more than qualified for the
position. "This says you're currently employed at Cul-
pepper and Piper."
She nodded. "Yes. I've been with them for five years." He
didn't know a lot about the company, but you couldn't miss
their imposing glass-and-steel headquarters downtown. They
were a high-tech success story, and reportedly one of the
top-rated employers in Denver. "Why are you thinking of
leaving them?"
She smiled, brown eyes dancing with amusement, as if she
were in on some private joke. "I'm looking for more
interesting work."
Ah. He'd heard that one before. He folded his hands and
gave her a hard look. "People think P.I. work is
interesting. It's not. It's deadly dull. I need someone to
answer the phone, file paperwork and maybe do background
research for civil suits, divorce cases, insurance scams,
things like that. Nothing exciting."
He was purposely trying to intimidate her, but she wasn't
buying. She crossed her legs at the knee, giving him a
look at a good six inches of firm thigh. He kept his
expression neutral, but below the belt there was a
definite response.
"Working for a large firm like Culpepper and Piper is very
impersonal," she said. "I'd enjoy the chance to work one-
on-one in a small office."
He shifted in his chair, thinking about the kind of "one-
on-one" activities he obviously hadn't enjoyed enough of
lately. "You know I can't afford to pay you what you're
making now."
"That's all right. I'm sure we can come to some agreement."
Was she intentionally coming on to him, or was his horny
imagination taking over? He studied her for clues, but she
sat there, serene and perfectly relaxed, her posture
almost prim, except for the short skirt and sexy shoes and
the ends of the scarf trailing over her breast like a flag
marking a hazard.
Working with her might be a hazard to his concentration.
Then again, he was desperate for someone competent to help
him in the office. He glanced at the stack of mail on the
corner of his desk. Did he hire the only qualified person
he'd interviewed so far who was willing to work for the
salary he could afford, or did he waste more time trying
to find someone else for the position?
He looked at Lexie again. "When can you start?"
Her smile widened, positively dazzling now. "I can be in
first thing tomorrow."
He nodded, a little breathless in the face of thatsmile.
He struggled to his feet and shook her hand, then watched
her leave the room, his eyes focused on her curvy bottom
in that tight skirt. He knew plenty of guys who'd count
themselves lucky to have just hired a secretary this sexy.
But those were guys who hadn't spent the last year digging
out from under a fiasco of a failed marriage. Guys who
hadn't learned how dangerous a really sexy woman could be.
LEXIE SET THE BUD VASE on the corner of her desk and
stepped back to admire the single pink rose she'd bought
on the way to work this morning. From now on, she wanted
flowers on her desk every day. Today, her first at her new
job, was special and called for a rose, but other days she
might have carnations or daisies. The kind of flower
didn't matter so much as treating herself to that little
bit of extra beauty.
She looked around the front office space of Delaney
Investigations and couldn't suppress a thrill of
excitement. It was happening. She really was changing her
life. No more sitting back and dreaming about what could
be. Now she was all about making things happen.