and Nolan stayed about ten more minutes, gathering more specific information about Patrice’s habits and hobbies (jogging with Maria, word puzzles and needlepoint, which her mother had taught her years ago), favorite hangouts (Bailey’s Bar and Grill with her friends from class and JoJo’s Java every Friday before class with Amanda) and other friends (Gail Schuster, another high school pal who was next on Summer’s list).
When they returned to Summer’s car, Nolan gave her a querying look. “There a reason you chose to abuse my leg while we were in there?”
She rolled her eyes and groaned. “You were hijacking the interview, asking questions about things that didn’t contribute to the investigation.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry, but what questions did you think were irrelevant?”
“The whole thing about her family. Did you miss where I told you they are the ones who hired me?”
“So?”
“So why would they hire me if they were involved in her death?”
He scratched his temple, his brow furrowed. “Um, you do know that when a woman is killed, the most likely candidates are always the people closest to her, right? The husband or boyfriend. A parent…”
She started the engine and shook her head. “I’m aware of that statistic, but in this case, the family doesn’t make sense. I looked in her father’s eyes and saw genuine grief.”
“Sure it wasn’t guilt?”
“Nolan!” She slapped a hand on the steering wheel. “This is my case! I told you I didn’t want you trying to take over.”
When she reached for the gearshift to back out of the parking space, he covered her hand with his to stop her, then turned the key to shut off the engine.
“Uh! What are you doing?” She gaped at him, trying to ignore the thrill that chased up her arm when he’d touched her hand.
“I don’t want you driving while distracted. And I want to clear things up before we go any further with this case.”
“Clear what things up?” Her heart struck a hard staccato beat when she faced him. His mercurial eyes bored into her, and his scruff-dusted jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth.
“Do you want me helping you with this case or don’t you?”
“I do,” she said with confidence, adding, “but only if you remember my terms. This is my case. Don’t try to commandeer it from me.”
His eyes clung to hers, but he said nothing for several uncomfortable seconds. Finally, his gaze softened, and he said, “Your case. I get that. Why is that such a sticking point for you? You seem hypersensitive about it. What’s going on? The Summer I used to know wasn’t this uptight.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and tried not to let memories of rampant sexism from her past elevate her blood pressure. Nolan had asked a fair question, and he deserved the truth. “The Summer you knew was included as an equal in all the stuff you guys used to do. You didn’t defer to me or cut me out of anything muddy or rough-and-tumble because I was a girl. But this Summer—” she pointed to herself “—never got the lead on cases at her last investigative agency, despite the fact I had every bit as much or more training than the men in the agency. This Summer—” she tapped her chest “—was treated like a glorified errand girl, who always got sent for coffee or asked to do the copying and collating and transcribing notes for the men. I got leering looks at my chest and pedantic speeches and mansplaining out the wazoo.”
His expression darkened at the mention of being sexually objectified by her colleagues.
“I finally had enough and quit.”
“Good,” he said, nodding his head in approval.
“I came here to start my own business and be the boss. But even here I get funny looks when I tell people I’m the owner of Davies Investigations LLC. I’ve lost business when people change their mind about hiring me when they learn a woman would be handling their case.” She huffed angrily. “So, yeah, I’m a little sensitive to being pushed aside and treated with sexism, because it has been happening for years. And it drives me nuts!” Summer raised her hands, her fingers curled like claws as she growled her frustration.
Nolan again sat quietly, his gaze on her, steady and a bit unnerving with its penetrating power. Something deep in her core stirred in response to his hazel stare.
Finally he spoke, his voice calm and deep and lulling. “First of all, this Nolan—” he flattened a hand against his chest “—is the same Nolan you knew. I didn’t discriminate against you when we were kids, and I will not now. I see ability and character in you. Not man versus woman.”
Reluctantly, she said, “Okay.”
His reply should have made her feel better, but the marrow-deep awareness he awoke in her deflated instead, leaving a hollow ache. She wanted to be treated as an equal, but would it be so terrible if he saw her as a woman? Did she really want to be just his pal? The feminine side of her said no, while a more practical part of her brain reminded her of his platonic-only rule.
“Second, I hate that you were subjected to that kind of discrimination and objectification. I’d love to set those men straight on a thing or two.” His hand flexed as he scowled, leaving no secret how he’d set her sexist colleagues straight.
“And finally, the questions about Patrice’s family were valid and necessary. I wasn’t trying to take over. I was asking important questions, if only to legitimately eliminate them as suspects. It’s not impossible that they hired you to throw the investigation off their tracks.” He angled his head and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I think if you’ll look past your sense of being overshadowed, you’ll know I’m right.”
The tingles were back. In spades. Her attention zeroed in on his warm hand, the sensation rushing through her blood, the hint of dizziness that swamped her.
“Summer?”
She jerked her gaze back to him, mentally replaying his last words. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry I overreacted.” She exhaled a cleansing breath. “I’ll try not to be so testy from here on out.”
He lifted the corner of his mouth and gave her a wink. Before he withdrew his hand, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze.
When she turned the key again to restart the engine, her hand was trembling. With a tight grip on the steering wheel to hide the tremors, she backed from the parking spot and headed out to the side street, praying Nolan hadn’t noticed her show of nerves. Her crazy attraction to Nolan was her issue to manage. He’d been clear that he wanted their friendship to continue on the same course it had begun. Strictly buddies. Asexual pals.
And because she valued his friendship, his insights and his expertise on this case, she would find a way to rein in this new fascination with his GQ physique, thrilling touch and drool-worthy mug.
As she drove, Nolan opened her notebook and read over her notes. “I suggest we follow up with Patrice’s dad on the job interviews and find these guys from her vocational classes.”
Summer nodded. “I agree. I also want to look
