Nora Roberts - Brazen Virtue

BRAZEN VIRTUE by Nora Roberts From Nora Roberts, the Nodd1 New York Times bestselling author of The Villa and Carolina Moon, comes a classic tale__a searing novel of twisted passion and lethal cunning, available in hardcover for the first time.

Superstar mystery novelist Grace McCabe needs to unwind after a grueling book tour, and visiting her sister, whom she hasn't seen in months, seems the perfect solution. But Grace is surprised to find the fastidious Kathleen living in a grungy Washington, D.C., neighborhood. Kathleen, reeling from a bitter divorce and the loss of her son, is saving every penny of her teacher's salary to hire a hotshot lawyer for a custody battle. Then Grace discovers that Kathleen is boosting her income with an unlikely profession: as an at_home phone_sex operator. Known as Desiree to the clients of Fantasy, Inc., Kathleen is living life on the edge.

Yet how dangerous could it really be? With the ironclad anonymity the agency guarantees its employees, could anyone ever track her down? Grace finds out one cherry_blossom_scented night when she comes home to find her sister dead, strangled with the cord of her "special" phone. Suddenly Grace's life turns into a scene from one of her own books__the horror, the tight_lipped police, the shattered survivor. Only this time the survivor is Grace herself. But she isn't waiting around for the police to catch up with the killer. Instead she creates a daring trap to lure the killer to her. Her plan goes against every coolheaded instinct of Detective Ed Jackson, the lead investigator on the case.

He's read all of Grace's books and might have been the perfect consultant for the one she's working on, though in this real_life murder, she's the last complication he needs. He's determined to keep Grace out of harm's way, but it's too late. Her trap has already worked. She has aroused the attention of a brilliant madman, and now nothing may be able to protect her from the murderous lust that drives this killer down a path of ecstasy laced with death. NORA ROBERTS, one of today's most successful and best_loved novelists, is the author of Night Shield, Heart of the Sea, and a host of other bestsellers. She lives in Maryland.

Bantam Books by Nora Roberts Brazen Virtue Carnal Innocence Divine Evil Genuine Lies Hot Ice Public _Secrets Sacred _Sins Sweet _Revenge vii To Amy Berkower with gratitude and affection

"And what would you like me to do to you?" the woman who called herself Desiree asked. She had a voice like rose petals. Soft and sweet. She did her job well, very well, and customers asked for her over and over again. She was talking to one of her repeaters now, and she knew his preferences. "Just close your eyes, close your eyes and relax. "Just close your eyes, close your eyes and relax.

I want you to forget all about the office, and your wife, and your business partner. It's just you and me." When he spoke to her, she answered with a low laugh. "Yes, you know I will. Don't I always? Just close your eyes, and listen. The room's quiet and lit by candles. Dozens of white, scented candles.

Can you smell them?" She gave another low, teasing laugh. "That's right. White. The bed's white too, big and round and white. You're lying on it, naked and ready. Are you ready, Mr.

Drake?" She rolled her eyes. It killed her that the guy wanted her to call him mister. But it took all kinds. "I've just come out of the shower. My hair's wet, and there are little beads of water all over my body. There's a drop clinging to my nipple.

It slides off and onto you as I kneel on the bed. Feel it? Yes, yes, that's right, it's cool, cool, and you're so hot." She fought back a yawn. Mr. Drake was already breathing like a steam engine. Thank God he was so easily satisfied. "Oh, I want you.

I can't keep my hands off you. I want to touch you, to taste you. Yes, yes, it drives me crazy when you do that. Oh, Mr. Drake, you're the best. The very best." For the next few minutes she just listened to his demands and delights.

Listening was the biggest part of her job. He was right on the edge now, and she glanced at her watch, grateful. Not only was his time almost up, but he was her last customer of the evening. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she helped him go over the top. "Yes, Mr. Drake, it was wonderful.

You're wonderful. No, I'm not working tomorrow. Friday? Yes, I'll look forward to it. Good night, Mr. Drake." She listened for the click, then hung up the phone. Desiree became Kathleen.

Ten_fifty_five, she thought with a sigh. She was off at eleven, so there should be no more calls that night. She had papers to grade, and a pop quiz to make up for her students for tomorrow. As she rose, she glanced at the phone. She'd made two hundred tonight, thanks to ATANDT and Fantasy, Incorporated. With a laugh, she picked up her coffee cup.

It was a hell of a lot better than selling magazines. Only miles away, another man clung to the phone receiver. His hand was damp. The room smelled of sex, but he was alone. In his mind Desiree had been there. Desiree. Desiree.

With his heart still pumping fast, he stretched out on his bed. Desiree. He had to meet her. And soon.

The plane banked over the Lincoln Memorial. Grace had her briefcase open on her lap.

There were a dozen things to be packed away, but she stared out the window, pleased to see the ground rushing up toward her. There was nothing, as far as she was concerned, that was quite the same as flying. The plane was late. She knew that because the man across from her in seat 3B kept complaining about it. Grace was tempted to reach across the aisle and pat his hand, to assure him that ten minutes in the scheme of things really didn't matter so much. But he didn't look as though he would appreciate the sentiment.

Kathleen would be complaining too, she thought. Not out loud or anything, Grace mused as she smiled and settled back for the landing. Kathleen might have been just as irritated as 3B, but she would never have been rude enough to mumble and moan. If Grace knew her sister, and she did, Kathleen would have left home over an hour before, making certain to take into consideration the unpredictability of Washington traffic. Grace had heard the note in Kathleen's voice betraying her annoyance with Grace that she'd chosen a flight that would arrive at six_fifteen, the height of rush hour. With twenty minutes to spare, Kathleen would have parked her car in the short_term lot, rolled up the windows, locked the doors, and made her way, without being tempted by the shops, to the gate.

She would ever have gotten lost or mixed the numbers up in her mind. Kathleen was always early. Grace was always late. That was nothing new. Still she hoped, really hoped, there could be some common ground between them now. Sisters they were, but they had rarely understood each other.

The plane bumped to earth and Grace began tossing whatever came to hand into her briefcase. Lipstick tumbled in with matchbooks, pens with tweezers. That was something else a woman as organized as Kathleen would never understand. A place for everything. Grace agreed in principle, but her place never seemed to be the same from one time to the next. More than once, Grace had wondered how they could be sisters.

She was careless, scatterbrained, and successful. Kathleen was organized, practical, and struggling. Yet they had come from the same parents, had been raised in the same small brick house in the suburbs of D.C., and had gone to the same schools. The nuns had never been able to teach Grace anything about organizing a notebook, but even as far back as sixth grade at St. Michael's, they had been fascinated by her skill at spinning a tale. When the plane was at the gate, Grace waited while the passengers who were in a hurry to deplane clogged the aisle.

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