THE BENNETTS' CHRISTMAS (The Bennett Family and the Masters Family #6) - Brenda Jackson Page 0,1

did, she noticed how the fabric of his dress slacks stretched across a pair of taut thighs.

A zing of attraction went through her. Her eyes moved to his face. He was definitely handsome—polished, yet rugged and oh-so sexy. Almond-colored skin covered chiseled good looks. He had it all, sharp cheekbones, a pair of gorgeous dark brown eyes, a hawkish nose and a pair of masculine lips that displayed sensuality, without a hint of arrogance.

Feeling bold after not seeing a ring on his finger, she took a couple of steps toward him. All thoughts of leaving the nightclub suddenly vanished. “I’m Monica Bennett,” she said, extending her hand.

The moment their fingers touched, a whirl of sensations raced through her, leaving her a bit stunned. Had he felt it as well? If so, she couldn’t tell. “Hello, Monica. I’m Landon. Landon Chestnut.”

She loved the sound of his voice. It was deep and husky, and every feminine cell in her body stood to attention. “It’s good to meet you, Landon. Are you from St. Paul?”

“No. I’m in town on business.”

She was tempted to ask him where he was from, but figured if he wanted her to know, he would tell her. “Are you enjoying the city?”

He smiled over at her. “So far, yes. However, work has kept me very busy, and I haven’t managed to get out much. And unfortunately, I leave tomorrow.”

What a pity, she thought. “If you ever return to St. Paul, please look me up.” Opening her purse, she pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “Maybe we can get together for drinks or something.”

He took the card and looked at it before sliding it into the pocket of his jacket. Then he looked back at her and smiled. “I’ll make sure I do that, Monica.”

He had dimples. Good Lord… As if he needed to be any more gorgeous. “Well, I better be going,” she said. There was no reason for her to hang around, unless he wanted company. But so far, it seemed he preferred to be alone.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car in case that guy comes back?” he asked her.

She was tempted to say yes—she wasn’t ready to part ways with him yet—but she knew that would not be wise. She knew nothing about this guy. He hadn’t told her anything about himself, except his name, and he hadn’t offered her a business card when she’d given him hers. She figured that was his way of letting her know he wasn’t interested.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be fine. And thanks again for coming to my rescue.”

“Don’t mention it.”

She gave him one last look before turning to walk back out to her car.

Landon entered his hotel room, still thinking about the woman he’d met in the nightclub. She had definitely been a looker. Normally, he didn’t get involved in other couple’s disputes, but two things had been quite obvious—the man was an ass, and the woman hadn’t wanted to be bothered.

They had a history, he gathered that. In fact, he had learned a lot from their conversation. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the former cop, police detective and present-day private investigator in him couldn’t resist. It seems that good old Dusty had been a disappointing one and done.

He walked over to the coffee pot in the room to get it started, before finishing up his report. He wanted to send it in to the agency before he went to bed. His flight left at eight in the morning, but he figured Richard Sharpe would be anxious to learn if Landon had located his missing granddaughter.

Landon had poured his coffee and was about to take a sip when his phone rang. Recognizing the ring tone, he answered. “Duan? Isn’t it kind of late for you?”

He and Duan Jeffries had been partners, working as police detectives with the Atlanta Police Department. Duan had quit the force to start Peachtree Private Investigative Firm, and Landon had joined him a year later. The following year, they’d brought three more investigators—Antron Blair, Brett Newman and Chevis Fleming—into the agency. The five of them worked well together and had an impressive track record for solving difficult cases.

“Richard Sharpe has been blowing up my phone, wanting to know if you found her.”

Landon settled back in the wingback chair next to the bed. Each of the investigators at Peachtree had a specialty. His was locating missing persons.

“Yes, I tracked down the runaway heiress. I’ll get my report