Molly Summers woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom.

The lights were off. The air carried a warm, woody scent — sandalwood, maybe — and even in the low light she could tell the room was unapologetically male. Gray and black, clean lines, no clutter. Simple, but it had taste.

The apartment was quiet. From the living room came the low murmur of Adrian Hadley's voice. A phone call.

Molly started to sit up — then stopped, reached for the blanket, and pressed it to her ...