Forbidden Read online

  Forbidden

  Janelle Denison

  For years, Detective Josh Marchiano had fostered a forbidden love for Paige-his partner's wife. Now Paige was a widow and a target of a dangerous man… Paige had never experienced so many intense emotions-shock, grief, fear. And her incredible need to be with Josh,her protector, her friend, her cofidant. and now her lover. But could she give her heart to another cop?

  Janelle Denison

  Forbidden

  © 1999

  Dear Reader,

  Have you ever wanted something that was unattainable? Something almost forbidden? Most of us have. For Detective Josh Marchiano, that something has always been his best friend’s wife, Paige Montgomery. But now, Anthony Montgomery is dead, and Josh is assigned to protect Paige from a ruthless man who believes she has the diamond-and-emerald necklace her husband had stolen!

  Protecting Paige has its advantages, especially when Josh must pose as her lover and live with her. But Paige is more stubborn than Josh expected, and it takes more than a few sexy kisses and seductive caresses to make her believe they can live happily ever after.

  Happy Reading,

  Janelle Denison

  A special thanks to Jamie Denton, whose friendship and belief make each book a reality. Thank you for your faith in me on this one! To Karen Drogin, for sending a thank-you note that turned into something far more special. I treasure your friendship. And, as always, to my husband, Don, who is the reason why writing romance, and creating sexy, good-guy heroes comes so easily to me.

  Prologue

  PAIGE MONTGOMERY looked beautiful in black, Josh Marchiano decided. Graceful, elegant and poised, despite the recent tragedy that had made her a widow.

  A small, intimate crowd of friends and family filled Paige’s luxurious oceanfront home, to offer their condolences after attending the funeral services for her husband, Anthony Montgomery. Josh stood off to the side, near the spread of food the arrivals were contributing to, watching as Paige made sure she greeted everyone. A faint smile touched her lips as she gently squeezed the hand of an elderly woman offering her sympathies. Paige nodded in response to something the woman said, then moved on to the next person.

  Sadness dimmed her green eyes. That particular emotion was one Josh had seen too frequently during Paige’s three-year marriage to the man he’d once considered his best friend. There had been too many promises Anthony had broken, too many nights he’d opted to spend out with the boys instead of with the woman waiting for him at home.

  Anthony had treated Paige more like a possession than a wife, and over the years Josh had found himself trying to make up for Anthony’s neglect by being a friend to Paige. His good intentions had backfired.

  Anthony might have married Paige, but Josh had fallen in love with her.

  Paige glanced around, as if searching for someone specific, and stopped when she saw him. From across the room their gazes connected. Her expression softened, and for several heartbeats everyone else in the room faded away. A familiar awareness stirred between them, a tempting attraction neither one of them had ever talked about, or acted upon.

  It didn’t make the chemistry between them any less powerful.

  She started toward him, weaving through the guests. Her simple, traditional black dress draped subtly along her slender curves to just above the knee. Smoke-hued stockings encased a pair of long legs down to black heels. The dark color accentuated her flawless complexion and complemented her hair, a rich brown shade with natural auburn highlights. Today, she’d worn her hair up in an efficient, neat twist. Josh had the fleeting thought that he preferred the thick, silky strands flowing free down around her shoulders.

  She stopped in front of him, her gaze at once uncertain and expectant. Not caring that there were people in the room, Josh closed the distance between them and brushed his lips across her cheek.

  “I’m so sorry, Paige,” he said, knowing he’d repeated that sentiment at least a hundred times since delivering the devastating news of Anthony’s death. The condolence seemed inadequate in view of the tragic events of the past week.

  “Yeah, me too,” she whispered, a wealth of heartache lingering in her soft voice. “Thanks for coming today.”

  “You don’t need polite formalities with me.” Frowning at her, he pushed back his suit jacket and slid his hands into the front pockets of his navy trousers. “You know I would have been here for you. No matter what.”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I wasn’t sure if your lieutenant was going to let you attend the service, considering the risk to the case Anthony was working on.”

  “Lieutenant Reynolds had no choice in the matter.”

  Oh, they’d argued vehemently about the possible hazards of a Metro-Dade detective attending the funeral of a man who’d worked undercover to infiltrate a jewel-smuggling ring. In the end, Josh had won the heated debate. Though Anthony had been killed in the line of duty, sources still on the case had reported that no one in the ring had known Anthony Montgomery was a vice cop. He’d died with his assumed identity intact. Lieutenant Reynolds had decided any police association or political fanfare normally accompanying the death of a law enforcement officer would only draw attention to Anthony’s true occupation and risk the lives of the other undercover officers still planted in the ring, so his funeral had become a simple, intimate affair, without any pomp and circumstance.

  Josh had suggested that one ordinary person could blend in with family and friends much easier than a hundred uniformed officers. His lieutenant grudgingly agreed that it might not be a bad idea if he kept an eye on Paige until things settled down, and they determined the motive for Anthony’s death.

  “I could really use some fresh air,” Paige said, pulling Josh’s thoughts off police bureaucracy and back to her. “Care to join me?”

  Considering how claustrophobic the house was beginning to feel, the thought of sunshine and a cool breeze appealed to him. “Sure.”

  He had every intention of passing through the living room to the slider leading to the deck where other people had gathered, but she grabbed his arm before he could head that way.

  “I want to be alone,” she said, answering his questioning look. “If we go that way it’ll take me an hour of accepting more condolences before we make it out to the deck, and it’s even getting crowded out there.”

  He smiled, understanding she was tired of keeping up a polite front. “Come on, we’ll sneak out the other way.” Pressing his hand to the small of her back, he ushered her toward the marbled foyer.

  They slipped discreetly out the front door and followed a tiled walkway veering toward the right side of the house. The path led to a white gazebo surrounded by tropical plants and flowers. Night-blooming jasmine twined through the lattice columns around the structure. The warmth of the mild fall afternoon intensified the pleasant fragrance drifting from the tiny white flowers.

  Once inside the gazebo, Paige crossed to the opening overlooking a stretch of Miami beach and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. Pressing her hands to the railing, she took a deep breath of sea air. Josh imagined he could see some of her tension drain away.

  “How have you been?” he asked quietly. He’d asked her that question numerous times over the past week when he’d talked to her on the phone and always received an automatic response of “fine.” In person, he expected a more honest answer.

  She didn’t disappoint him. Glancing back at him, she gave a slight shrug. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. I’m glad the funeral is over, but I have to admit that Anthony’s death still doesn’t seem real.”

  What with the funeral arrangements, the steady stream of people paying their respects, and the arrival of her sister, Valerie, from Connecticut offering moral support, he guessed she’
d been too distracted to accept the reality of the situation. “It’ll take more than a week for the shock to wear off, Paige.”

  “Oh, the sensible side of me knows that,” she said, leaning against one of the jasmine-draped columns. “But Anthony was gone so much that a part of me just feels like this is an extended leave on another case.”

  He heard the pain in her voice that touched beyond her current sorrow. It mingled with the misery and loneliness he’d seen glimpses of the past few years, and grabbed at something deep and elemental in him.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she turned her gaze back out to the sea. “You know, it was one of my greatest fears that Anthony would get killed working on some secretive, undercover case.”

  “Getting killed in the line of duty is a risk all cops take.” He grimaced. The automatic response sounded trite even to his own ears.

  “Yeah, Anthony told me that plenty of times,” she said, her lips pursing into a tight, angry line. “It never did do much to ease the fears and uncertainties or the long, sleepless nights.”

  “I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say.

  “Don’t be.” She waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss his apology. “You know, his occupation was a bone of contention in our marriage. He loved the risk of undercover work, the thrill of the danger that went with it. I grew to hate it.”

  By the look in her eyes, she’d despised his occupation for more reasons than she’d ever divulged to him. “It’s not always easy being a cop’s wife.”

  She tilted her head and regarded him speculatively. “Why didn’t you warn me before I married one?”

  Recognizing the teasing sparkle in her eyes, he allowed a slow grin to lift the corners of his mouth. “Would you have listened?”

  She laughed, the breezy sound breaking the tension caused by their previous conversation. “Probably not.”

  The lighthearted moment reminded him why he enjoyed her company so much. “Then there’s your answer.”

  She shook her head, and picked at one of the little white flowers, her face serious again. “Have you learned any more about the accident that killed him?”

  He chose his answer carefully, not wanting to divulge any of the disturbing suspicions circulating about Anthony’s death being more than just an accident. “It’s still under investigation.”

  “And it’s confidential information,” she added for him, bitterness creeping back into her voice.

  He sighed heavily, wondering how many times she’d heard that same line from her own husband. “Yes, it is.”

  She flicked the flower over the rail and watched it flutter to the landscaped lawn. “Well, when you’re at liberty to share the privileged information, I’d like some answers on what, exactly, happened.”

  He nodded. Giving her closure was the least he could do for her. “As soon as the investigation is concluded, and the reports released, I’ll let you know.”

  And for Paige’s sake as much as his own, he hoped the rumors of criminal involvement surrounding Anthony were unfounded.

  1

  Three months later

  JOSH GLANCED out the windshield of his black Thunder-bird and scowled at the thick, gray clouds overhead. The dreary, temperamental weather settling over North Miami Beach suited his mood, which was grim, with an angry undercurrent as ferocious as the jagged bolts of lightning streaking across the darkening sky. The elements of the brewing storm about to break weren’t much different from the sense of betrayal raging within him.

  Shifting his gaze to the luxurious, custom-built home he’d parked in front of, he attempted to push his surly emotions aside so he could mentally prepare himself for the unpleasant task ahead. Not easy, considering his personal feelings for the woman inside that house.

  Paige.

  Dread settled in his chest, and he scrubbed both hands over his face, feeling the burn of his two-day stubble against his palms. It had been that long since Lieutenant Reynolds had summoned him into his office and verified what had been mere speculation among the cops working on the case Anthony had been assigned to. With the help of the officers still working undercover on the case, Internal Affairs had concluded their investigation of the sudden, merciless death of Anthony Montgomery. The official reports had confirmed the rumors no one in the department, least of all himself, wanted to believe.

  Anthony Montgomery had been dirty, and he’d tangled Paige in the middle of the mess. Because of Anthony’s deceit, she was about to be dragged into a world where violence and greed reigned.

  Josh was her best hope of surviving.

  A fresh wave of anger gripped him, and he tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. It outraged and disgusted him that Anthony had stooped low enough to put his own wife into such a dangerous situation.

  You were his best friend, Josh, ol’ buddy. You knew better than most that Anthony rarely thought of anyone but himself.

  Yeah, he’d seen that selfish, arrogant side of Anthony many times in the years since they’d graduated from the Academy together, but he’d believed marriage to someone as gentle and caring as Paige would tame and humble him. Not so. If anything, Anthony had grown more cocky and reckless. His last actions on earth proved his disregard for the wife he’d left behind.

  Tamping down the flare of emotions, Josh flipped up the collar of his lightweight jacket, slid out of the vehicle and headed toward the front of Paige’s house. Thunder shook the heavens, and the wind began to howl and whip through the nearby palms and trees. Then the sky split wide open, and big, fat drops of rain began to fall. Within seconds, he was drenched.

  With a distinct curse, he leapt onto the tile steps and ducked under the awning covering the front porch, which sheltered him from the pelting rain and wild winds.

  “Great,” he muttered. Dragging his fingers through his wet hair, he pushed the thick, unruly strands into some semblance of order. His face was wet, too, the excess moisture trailing down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. “Just great.”

  Puffing out an aggravated breath, he knocked firmly on the heavy oak door. Through the etched-glass insets he could see the soft glow of lights illuminating portions of the house, then a slim, blurred figure moving toward the foyer. A lock unlatched, then the door opened.

  “Josh!” Paige smiled, surprise and pleasure brightening her striking green eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  Recent revelations caused his fierce protective instincts to rise swiftly to the surface. “Do you always open the door to strangers without asking who’s standing on the other side?”

  She blinked, taken aback by his abrupt question. “You’re hardly a stranger, Josh.”

  He resisted the urge to reach out and shake her. “You didn’t know it was me when you opened the door.”

  A dark auburn brow lifted, and she crossed her arms over her chest She looked nice and cozy and dry, Josh noted grumpily, taking in her cocoa-colored knit sweater that hung to mid-thigh, and slim leggings in the same shade. Her feet were bare, though, her toenails a light shade of pink. And her hair was down, a thick luxurious tumble of cinnamon and fire. The tips of his cold fingers tingled at the thought of burying them in such silky, sensual warmth.

  “If the purpose of your visit is a lecture, Detective Marchiano, I don’t need it.”

  “Seems to me you do.” He scowled at her for being so naive, and at himself for letting his mind drift to other forbidden enticements. “You’re too damn trusting.”

  Before the night was over, though, he was going to shatter that guileless trust of hers, the serenity of her life, and make her suspicious of everyone she came into contact with.

  The way she viewed the world would never be the same.

  “It’s a trait some people appreciate,” she replied lightly.

  “And others take advantage of.” The tail end of a gust found its way into his corner of the porch. A chill shivered throughout his body and made goose bumps rise on his damp flesh. The glowing warmth of her house beck
oned.

  “You know, Josh, you look like hell, and you’re as surly as an angry bear.” She tilted her head, regarding him with a small degree of amusement “If you’re looking for me to invite you in, you’re going about it the wrong way.”

  If he’d been standing on her doorstep under different circumstances, he would have laughed. His relationship with Paige had always included plenty of good natured teasing, and the smiles and laughter that seemed to be lacking in her relationship with Anthony. They’d always gotten along well-too well, he sometimes thought, connecting on so many levels that stretched beyond simple friendship.

  Today, laughter wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, he blew out a harsh breath that did nothing to ease the anxiety knotting up his insides. “This isn’t a social call,” he said, his tone heavy with regret. “I’m here on official business.”

  “Oh.” Her smile fell away, as did the tenderness and teasing. She automatically stepped aside to let him enter.

  He brushed past her and into the foyer, welcoming the rise in temperature. The interior of the house was warm and inviting, redolent with the pleasing aroma of fresh-baked bread and another richer scent he couldn’t name, but his empty stomach appreciated nonetheless.

  He stopped just inside the entryway, when the soles of his leather loafers squeaked against marble. Not wanting to muddy the expensive Oriental runner leading to the living room, he toed his shoes off by the door.

  “Criminy,” he muttered, shaking his head in disgust. “Even my socks are wet.” He took those off, too, and put them with his shoes.

  Paige tried to smother a grin, and failed. “You’re absolutely soaked, Josh.”

  He jammed his hands on his hips and glanced down at himself. There wasn’t a dry patch on his jacket, and his jeans were plastered to his hips and legs. The wet denim was heavy and clammy against his skin. “Right down to my briefs,” he confirmed wryly. “I got caught in the downpour.”