She spread her napkin in her lap and gave him an expectant look, saying nothing. She’d learned that if you kept silent long enough most people would say something to fill it.
He took a long drink of iced tea, then set it down with a loud thump. “You really want to know?”
She nodded.
“I was married. One day I came home and found all my stuff packed in boxes and suitcases in the front hall. My wife asked me to move out.” His voice was calm, but the lines around his eyes deepened and his knuckles whitened on the hand that held the glass.
“That’s pretty cold,” she said, trying for sympathy without pity.
“Yeah, well, she said she’d been trying to let me know how unhappy she was, but I was so wrapped up in work I hadn’t noticed, so she figured kicking me out was one way to make sure I got the message.”
Give the woman points for being direct. “What did you do?”
“I was stunned. I really hadn’t had a clue. I got a room at a cheap hotel and promised her I’d make things better. Since she seemed to think my job was part of the problem, I quit. I decided being my own boss offered more flexibility and better hours.”
Wow. He must have really wanted to save his marriage. She couldn’t imagine loving someone enough to make that kind of sacrifice. “But it didn’t work?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Turns out the problem wasn’t really my job—it was her boyfriend who’d lost his job and wanted to move in with her.”
She winced. “Ouch.”
The waitress delivered their order. The salad looked delicious. “Why didn’t you go back to your old job when things didn’t work out with your wife?”
He poured ketchup over his fries. “By then I kind of liked the P.I. business. No office politics, make your own hours. It was a good fit for me.”
“Okay, then why Denver?”
He shrugged. “I knew a few people up here. The climate’s good. It seemed like a good place to start over.”
She nodded. “I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay in Houston.”
“Your turn. Why did you quit Culpepper and Piper and come to work for a one-man detective agency?”
She speared an olive on her fork and swiped it through a pool of dressing. “Kind of like you, I guess. I’m starting my life over.”
He paused, the burger halfway to his lips. “Divorce?”
“Another D word—death.”
He set down the burger and stared at her. “Run that one by me again?”
She laughed. “I didn’t really die, but almost. I lost control of my car on an icy road and went over an embankment. Apparently I was in a coma for a week. Then I was in rehab for almost six months. When I was finally well I promised myself I was going to live the kind of life I’d always wanted to live. Instead of dreaming about things I’d do ‘one day,’ I was going to do them now.”
“What kind of things?”
“Getting a different job, for one. A new wardrobe. Trying new things. I signed up for a Spanish class at Red Rocks. I want to go to Spain, and lots of other places. I want to learn gourmet cooking.”
“That’s a lot of stuff.”
“There’s more. I actually made a list of one hundred things I intend to do.”
“You wrote them down?”
She nodded. “I have them all in a red leather notebook in my purse.”
“You sound pretty determined.”
“Oh, I am.” Their eyes met, and she felt the electricity between them again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this attracted to a man.
The fact that he was her boss made things a little complicated, but it wasn’t as if this was a big company where one or both of them could fall prey to office gossips or even legal entanglements. It was just the two of them, in the office together every day. Anything could happen with that kind of intimacy.
Was that good or bad? The old Lexie would have thought it was bad.
She smiled to herself and finished the last of her salad. Right now, she thought, maybe it was a very good thing indeed.
2
NICK LEANED BACK in his desk chair and admired the view through his open office door. Lexie was doing something with the fax machine, bent over at the waist with her back to him, presenting an enticing view of her rounded backside and long legs. Today she was wearing a black knit dress, belted at the waist, a black-and-white scarf knotted at her throat. She must collect scarves the way some women bought shoes. She’d worn a different one every day this week.
She bent farther over the fax and his eyes traced a line over the curve of her bottom, down her thighs. His fingers curled against his palm as he imagined stroking her there. He was getting a hard-on watching her like this; he felt like a cross between a horny teenager and a twisted voyeur. Every day when he left work he told himself he was going to go out and find a woman and let off some of this sexual steam. Unfortunately, no woman he’d seen lately turned him on the way the one working in his office did, which left him where he’d started—watching and wanting and not doing a damn thing about it.
He told himself he ought to close the door so he could get some work done, but he was enjoying himself too much at the moment.
Hiring Lexie was one of the best decisions he’d made in a long while. She was efficient and intelligent as well as good-looking and sexy. And she was good company, pleasant and easy to be around. He looked forward to coming to the office every morning, knowing he’d see her.
Of course, having her around did interfere with his work to a certain extent. His mind might be determined to focus on the job, but when Lexie was around his body invariably reminded him that he was a healthy man who’d been alone for a while now.
Much as he was tempted to start something with her, he knew it was a bad idea to mix business with pleasure. He’d settled on the unsatisfactory compromise of admiring her when she wasn’t looking, and keeping his distance otherwise.
He doubted she’d stay with him long anyway, not with all her talk about wanting more adventure in her life. He’d been like that himself once, when he’d first joined the police force. He’d gotten over that restlessness soon enough. Now he wanted to be settled somewhere, taking comfort in the everyday routine. He hoped Denver was going to be his home for a long time but it was too soon to tell.
The front door opened and a well-dressed man entered. Lexie greeted him with one of her hundred-watt smiles, leaving the man with a slightly dazed expression on his face. He followed her toward Nick’s office, clearly mesmerized.
Nick straightened and faked interest in the paperwork spread out on his desk. “Mr. Delaney, Mr. Wittier is here to see you.”
Stan
