sister.”
And just like that, the vague worry that something was wrong swelled to a crescendo. The man standing in front of her was either a cop bearing bad news, or he was the source of the bad news himself. What she needed to do was find out which one applied.
* * *
Private investigator Samuel Potter watched the changing expressions on the blonde’s face with interest. Puzzlement. Irritation. Fear. Resolve. Then schooled blankness.
Mesmerizing.
The word popped into his mind, then stuck.
He hadn’t been expecting her to be so pretty. Or for her to have a soft, feminine voice that wrapped around him like silk and held him hostage. He hadn’t thought too much about her at all, actually. Except in terms of being a starting point for his missing-persons investigation, of course.
The second she opened the door, though, he’d been unable to stop himself from dragging his eyes over the length of those oh-so-long, trim legs, then up to her slim waist—visible even under that plain shirt—then across the swell of her breasts to that tied-up pile of hair.
Sam ground his teeth together.
Finding the target was his goal. Finding the target’s sister attractive...was not.
Focus.
He’d already lost the element of surprise, which was so key in getting people to answer questions honestly. Not that he assumed Meredith Jamison would be a liar, but he knew from experience that the more time people had to prepare, the more hesitant their replies became.
“Are you?” he persisted.
He was already sure of the answer. Her initial reaction had given it away. But Sam needed her to confirm it anyway. Thoroughness. A necessary part of his investigation.
“Am I what?” she replied.
Sam fought an unprofessional eye roll. “Are you Tamara’s sister?”
She bristled visibly.
She doesn’t like being the sister of an internet celebrity.
Sam noted that fact and automatically stored it in the back of his mind; it was the kind of thing that might come in handy later. His business was all about the details—reading people and using their “tells” to get to the truth.
“I do have a name.” Her tone was just shy of defiant, and Sam noted that, too.
“Which I’m hoping is Meredith Jamison,” he said drily.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you hoping my name is Meredith Jamison?”
Sam blinked. He wasn’t used to be challenged. Just his physical presence—six foot three, two hundred and ten pounds and perpetually scowling—made people back down. The attractive woman in front of him showed no sign of budging. If anything, her face grew more stubborn by the second.
Great.
“Well?” she prompted.
Sam suppressed a groan. What he needed to do was come up with a way of convincing Meredith it would be in her best interest to help him out. Which it was, of course. Her sister was missing, even if she didn’t know it yet, and Sam was her best bet at finding her.
He tried to relax his body, to make himself appear as open as possible. He even managed to lift one corner of his mouth in a smile.
“Assuming you’re Ms. Jamison... I just have a few questions about your sister. Easy-peasy. Then I’ll get out of your way.”
“What kind of questions?” She clearly didn’t buy his feigned pleasantness in the least.
“When was the last time you saw or spoke to Tamara?”
“Why?”
Sam clamped his jaw down tightly for a frustrated second, then released it. “Do you always need to know the why of things?”
“I do when those things involve a man showing up on my doorstep asking about my sister.”
Sam couldn’t blame her for her defensiveness or for the fear that lay underneath it. But he also couldn’t go into detail about his investigation. The confidentiality clause requested by his client prohibited him from disclosing more than the vaguest details. It tied his hands and made his job that much harder.
“There’s no cause for alarm, Ms. Jamison,” Sam ventured. “I’m just trying to get in touch with Tamara.”
“Fine. I’m guessing you have some ID to go along with the rest of those questions, then?”
“ID?” he repeated.
“A wallet? A badge, maybe?”
She definitely knows something. And she thinks you’re a cop. Sam examined her face for a moment, then amended the thought. No, not quite. She knows something and she’s trying to figure out whether or not you’re a cop.
He just wasn’t sure which answer she wanted. The truth—that he’d once been an officer, but wasn’t any longer—certainly wouldn’t do.
“Do I need ID to ask questions?” He kept his tone as friendly as he could manage.
Meredith stepped backward, and he knew his window of opportunity was about to close.
And so was the door. Literally.
He realized it with about a second to spare. Sam lifted his hand, intending to close his fingers on the door so he could hold it open. Instead, they landed on Meredith’s wrist. They closed on her silken skin. The unexpected feel of it under Sam’s rough hand sent his pulse skyrocketing. Desire jolted through him, sucking the air from his lungs.
Slowly, he brought his gaze up to Meredith’s face. Her eyes were wide with a surprise that matched his own, and they were as pretty as the rest of her. A liquid green that reminded Sam of the ocean at midnight. Drown-in-me dangerous.
As Sam watched, she drew in a breath and the tip of her pink tongue came out to lick the edge of her bottom lip. Then she whipped her arm from his loose grasp and slammed the door in his face.
For a long second after it happened, Sam stood frozen to the spot, processing. He’d just violated about a half a dozen of his own on-the-job policies, and the result was an epic failure. He hadn’t solicited a single piece of information or acquired the slightest hint as to where to go to next. The only thing that would make it worse was if the girl panicked and contacted the local authorities. There was nothing Sam hated more than cutting forcibly through red tape in order to get the job done. Especially the most basic of jobs, like this one.
He took a breath, counted to thirteen—because ten wasn’t quite enough—and reminded himself that Meredith was currently his one and only lead. Even if he put that aside, he’d also taken a hefty advance payment from his client. He would work as hard as he could to trace the target. So he couldn’t
