Every so often a character emerges that catches a writer's eye. This character may not be the hero or heroine of the book we are currently working on, but a secondary character that has something a little extra special about him or her. Vice squad detective Blake Hammond is one such character.

I met Blake when I was writing my first book for Temptation. He was my hero Mason O'Neill's partner in Flirting with Danger (#708), a cool, smooth kinda guy that never seemed to have his feathers ruffled, and the complete antithesis of my rough around the edges hero. For two years Blake sat in the back of my mind in his well pressed trousers, gleaming dark hair and intriguing silvery gaze just waiting, patiently as is his style. I tried to fix him up with a few women, but he kept rejecting them. He was waiting for the right one to come along, one that would indeed ruffle this man's feathers. And who better to do it than DEA agent Veronica "Ronnie" Carmichael?

This is one story that couldn't have been told without the assistance of a few important people. I'd like to offer a very special thank you to Officer Darrell Drouin of the East Hartford Police Department for answering all of my questions on jurisdiction and inter-departmental procedures. A big thank you to the Renville County Sheriff's Department, and especially to Renville County Deputy Sheriff Marlyn Eklund who always offers a smile when answering even my most bizarre "what if" questions as they relate to inner workings of the criminal element. You guys are the best! Any mistakes herein are truly mine.

I love to hear from readers. You can write to me by email at jamie@jamiedenton.net.

Warmest regards,

Ronnie flashed the too polished, and too gorgeous to be real, detective a grin filled with satisfaction as his arrogance faded. Her own grin dimmed when his raven black eyebrows collided over narrowed, pale grey eyes.

"Find yourself another cop to play house," Blake said, angrily pushing out of the chair. "I'm not interested."

Her smile disappeared completely. There was no other cop, and she had her assignment. Because of jurisdiction, she'd been forced to partner herself with the LAPD, rather than one of her own, for which she was secretly grateful. The last thing she wanted was to play loving wife to the very men who've made her life a living hell the past three years. A fact which confirmed she should've followed her own dreams rather than attempting to fulfill a prophecy she'd never asked for, nor wanted.

She shifted in the chair as he reached for the door. "I'm afraid you have no choice," she said, grateful when the firm tone she'd attempted managed to stop him from leaving. "While your department has been more than cooperative, you know as well as I do that deep budget cuts has left your division operating with the bare minimum. You're the only officer available. And I've been guaranteed-"

He spun to face her, his frustration filled gaze connecting with hers. "I really don't give a damn what you've been guaranteed."

"Look, I'm sorry you're not happy about the assignment, but there isn't any other way." She didn't like him glowering down at her, so she stood and rested her backside against the desk. If he'd been standing in front of her, he'd still tower over her by a good ten inches, but at least she'd equaled the playing field. . . somewhat. "With employees being banned from Seaport Manor during their off hours, we need undercover operatives on the inside that have the freedom to come and go as they please. And it is a honeymoon resort. If we went in as singles, we'd be suspect from the moment we stepped off the launch."

He let out a long breath filled with impatience. "You really think people are going to believe we're newlyweds?"

She gave him a brief smile, in hopes of placating him since they hadn't exactly started out on the best of terms. "From what I've read about you, Detective, you're very good at what you do. I'm sure you'll provide a convincing performance."

Something in his gaze shifted, sending a ripple of alarm skirting down her spine. His soft, grey eyes filled with purpose as he crossed the cramped office, closing the distance between them. With every ounce of willpower in her arsenal, she held her ground instead of darting behind the desk like the little warning voice in her head was shouting for her to do.

He stopped mere inches away, invading her personal space, and close enough for her to breathe in the alluring scent of cologne and man. She cursed her rotten luck. Why couldn't they have found her a more middle aged, less virile, cop to play one half of the happy couple for the next week or two? Living in close quarters, in a ridiculously expensive and lavish honeymoon suite no less, with a man she found dangerously attractive held little appeal.

Or maybe too much appeal, her conscience taunted.

Definitely way too appealing, she thought. Since she knew the type so well, she could protect herself. Couldn't she? Forewarned was supposed to mean forearmed, not an invitation to lose control. Considering she'd once fallen victim to a guy with all the right words, all the right moves and all the wrong answers she'd been too blind to see, she'd just have to be extremely careful not to lose her head, and never, for one second, forget Blake was merely a means to an end that would finally give her the chance to follow her own dreams for a change.

Oh, yes, she knew Blake Hammond's type all right. Cocky swagger and confident, killer smile, the kind capable of reducing any living, breathing female to tongue-tied idiot. Soft, sexy bedroom eyes, combined with a deep velvety smooth voice warm enough to melt the iciest resistance. Throw in a body, hard in all the right places, yielding in even better places, and he fit the type to perfection. She'd sworn to stay away from that kind of guy, no matter how irresistibly charming. One momentary lapse of common sense was more than enough to last her a lifetime thank-you-very-much.

She shook the thoughts from her mind and concentrated instead on the tiny lines of fatigue bracketing Blake's eyes, and struggled to ignore the way her pulse revved when his gaze dipped momentarily to her mouth.

She would not make the same mistake twice, no matter how much her hormones clamored for male attention. Just to prove it to herself, she pulled in a steady breath. Almost.

"You've already threatened me with sexual harassment," he said, his voice filled with a calm she suspected tightly controlled. "How are we supposed to behave like newlyweds with a threat like that hanging over my head?"

His meaning wasn't lost on her. Newlyweds not only spoke in endearing terms to each other, they touched, caressed and kissed . . . long deep kisses. Toe curling kisses. Kisses that generated heat and fire and spelled trouble.