corridor and around a corner. He didn’t want her to see him until he’d scored a proper interview first. That would make it difficult for her to not at least listen to what he had to say.
He’d spent his weekend researching her business, her new career, and he was impressed. She had more clients than she could handle, and most of them were very satisfied with her services.
Fox Investigations, as far as he could tell, was a successful going concern. This location—on the second floor of an historic brownstone on West Seventy-ninth Street—was central and convenient to the subway. After one call to the rental agency, he’d learned that Lindsay was locked into a favorable five-year lease that included expansion possibilities.
From down the hallway, he heard the door open and Lindsay call out to her receptionist, “You can reach me on my cell if it’s an emergency.” The door closed and the sound of her footsteps on the wooden floor receded.
Nathan waited until she was gone before retracing his steps to her office. Carefully he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the ad he’d seen in the Saturday paper.
Help Wanted: Professional investigator. Experience necessary, references required, no attitude.
He had to smile, reading it again. Especially at the no attitude part. Lindsay had her nerve making that request.
He pushed open the door to Fox Investigations and took stock of the professional, almost austere furnishings. The walls were pale gray, the furniture modern, functional…and cold. The only spot of color came from the receptionist, who was wearing an expensive-looking pink blouse. She was in her twenties—a petite, dark-haired woman who was quick to smile.
“I’m sorry, but do you have an appointment? I’m afraid you just missed Lindsay.”
Quite deliberately, I assure you, he thought. “That’s okay. I should have called first, but I was in the area and thought I’d take a chance.” He showed her the ad.
“You’re here about the job?” She put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry, I shouldn’t sound so surprised. Lindsay requested experience, but she wasn’t really expecting…not that you’re old. Heaven’s no. It’s just that we’ve been getting a lot of recent high school graduates, who aren’t at all right for the job.”
“No insult taken,” he assured her.
“I’m so glad. Sometimes I wonder why Lindsay gave me my job. I’ve never been a receptionist before,” she confided. “And this is just my second week.”
“I think you make a fabulous receptionist.” To hell with experience. Lindsay had made a smart choice, selecting someone so unguarded and warm. He glanced at the nameplate next to the computer. No matter how many gaffes Nadine Kimble made, the clients would love her. She was the perfect yang to Lindsay’s yin.
“That’s very nice of you to say.” Nadine clicked the mouse and opened a calendar on the computer screen. “Lindsay is booking interviews for Thursday. Right now you have your choice of time slots. Any preferences?”
“The earlier, the better.” Lindsay was a night owl. Best to catch her when her instincts were at their dullest.
“How is nine o’clock?” Nadine’s fine, dark brows rose in consternation. “I’m sorry but Lindsay doesn’t come into the office any earlier.”
“Nine is good.”
She studied him apprehensively, then seemed to come to a decision. “I should warn you. Lindsay can be a little…prickly. That’s why she put that stuff about ‘no attitude’ in the ad. She said we might as well weed out the wimps from the start.” Her gaze swept over him. “But I’m guessing you’re not one of those.”
“I’d like to think not.” He glanced around the offices one more time, trying to get a feel for the place. Trust Lindsay to keep the decorating elements to a bare minimum. She always had been all about the work.
Nadine seemed to sense that he was judging the place and finding it lacking. “Almost surgical, isn’t it? I’m trying to talk Lindsay into some plants. She’s agreed to silk, because they’re low maintenance, but I’m holding firm on real, growing plants.”
Good luck with that, he thought. Obstinacy was another of Lindsay’s stronger traits.
“Well, thanks for your help. I guess I’ll see you Thursday morning.” As he was about to leave, Nadine waved her hand anxiously.
“Oh, I forgot to ask your name.” She smiled sheepishly. “I told you I was new at this.”
He’d been hoping to capitalize on her inexperience, and leave without needing to resort to subterfuge, but now that he’d been asked, he gave her his second name and his mother’s maiden name. He had no doubt Lindsay wouldn’t let him in the front door if he was honest about his identity.
And he wanted in that front door.
He needed to keep a roof over his sister and nephew’s head someway. And his father’s legacy demanded redemption.
Thursday morning
WHEN SHE’D STARTED HER OWN investigative agency, Lindsay Fox had been tempted to combine her office and living space in the same building. Her sister, Meg, had talked her out of that plan.
“You need to make an attempt to separate your work from your private life,” she’d argued, and so Lindsay had acquiesced and rented a one bedroom in a different building…but on the same block.
She figured she had to have one of the easiest commutes in Manhattan, which came in very handy on the mornings when she was off to a slow start—like today.
She’d had another tough night. This was nothing new for a chronic insomniac, but that didn’t make the lack of sleep any easier to deal with. As long as she had time for a cup of coffee before her first appointment of the day, though, she’d be okay.
Heels clicking on the sidewalk, Lindsay took long strides toward her destination. The hazy sky and cool temperatures didn’t bother her—in truth, she hardly noticed that the sunshine and warmth of summer had faded. Today she was hoping to hire a new employee and she had ambivalent feelings about that. She was glad her business was thriving and growing…but she was also concerned about finding the right person for the job. Nadine had been a bit of a risk but she was working out surprisingly well. Could she be so lucky a second time?
Lindsay crossed from the north side of the street to the south. She passed a middle-aged couple who had stopped on the corner to kiss goodbye. As she squeezed past them amid a crowd of other pedestrians, the couple separated and headed in opposite directions. Lindsay turned to the brown brick building on her left, then went up a short flight of stairs to the front door.
Inside was a foyer with a bank of mailboxes on one wall and an elevator on another. Lindsay bypassed both and took the stairs. One flight up and she was in the short corridor that led to Fox Investigations. As soon as she stepped inside, she headed for the coffee station. Nadine was already there, filling a cup for her.
“Thanks, Nadine. That smells wonderful.” Her well-groomed receptionist was wearing a sea-green cashmere sweater and gray trousers, neither of which Lindsay recalled seeing before. This was her third week, and so far she had yet to repeat one outfit.
“How
