Anna Nesmith has it all—enchanting looks, a great job, an exquisite home, a husband she should adore. Then Frank Caburn arrives at her door in the midst of a winter storm. He was hatless, dripping wet, and exuding testosterone so thick it could've been churned into butter. An internal investigator for the State Department, Caburn insists the questions he has for Anna about her husband, her finances, and her personal life are merely routine.
Anna suspects differently. What she learns over the coming hours, days, and weeks shatters every facet of her well-ordered life. Her confidence plunges, her husband doesn't come home, her dream job has to be put on hold, and her mother-in-law comes unhinged. All she wants to do is indulge in her misery, but Frank Caburn won't have it. He has a droll and infuriating sense of humor. He forces laughter from her lips when all she wants is to indulge her misery. Man to the bone, Caburn's smile could take him from a cocktail hour to a bedroom, but he finds Anna enduring, unassailable, and far too intelligent to be swayed by mere charisma. He wants off the investigation. But his boss is a rock, and his colleague is a hard place, and both have their own agendas. Caburn is on his honor to do the right thing. He knows the secret and is forbidden to reveal it. Yet, he's promised Anna he will always tell her the truth. He realizes he will have to tread very carefully to gain her trust—and her bed. Coping with one disaster after another, Anna longs to lean on Caburn, absorb his strength, and yes, she wants to release her pent-up passion. She feels like some mad god is urging her to go to bed with the man, enjoy it, and then get on with her life. But that isn't what the Fates have in mind ... .
