were piles of papers and books here, too. There was a television in one corner, and a leather couch that looked, from the pillow and blanket tossed to one side, as if it had been the scene of more than one night’s sleep.
So, did he sleep on the couch for the traditional reasons, a tiff with a significant other that Redstone didn’t know about? There was no sign of a feminine hand in this place, and rare would be the woman who could look at all this and not want to do…something.
More likely, she thought, as she heard footsteps and dodged out of the room and back into the entryway, he got so involved in his reading or work that he crashed here on the couch because it was closer. That fit with what Josh had said about him.
Of course, it could simply be that the bedroom was full, too, she thought, stifling a grin.
“It’s a bit lumpy,” he said apologetically as he handed her the mug, now nearly full with indeed lumpy sugar.
“No problem,” she assured him. “It’ll still dissolve just fine.”
He seemed a bit more at ease now, and she wondered if she could stretch this a bit.
“I and my bleary, morning eyes thank you.”
He managed an actual smile. A nice smile. In fact, a very nice smile. It changed his entire face, from that rather somber, serious mien to something that could pass for the proverbial boy next door. Which he was, in a way, she thought, smiling back at him.
“Have you lived here long? I don’t know the neighborhood at all,” she said, hoping to draw him out.
“Almost all my life. My parents bought this place when I was seven.” He frowned slightly. “I didn’t even realize the Howards had put their place on the market.”
“They didn’t, actually. A friend who knew I was looking for a place out here put us together.” She didn’t want to over explain and draw his curiosity, so she asked, “Your parents don’t live here now?”
This time the quirk of his mouth was almost a grimace. “They don’t live anywhere. They’re never in one place long enough. They visit here now and then, but live? No.”
“They travel?” She knew that already, but schooled her features to friendly interest.
“In the extreme,” he said. “The old phrase the jet set was invented for my parents. When I was a kid, every summer we were off to some exotic place. Now that they’re retired, it’s constant.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said, as if she hadn’t had her own experiences of round-the-world travel since she’d joined the Redstone security team. Of course, her travel was hardly for pleasure, and often she barely got to glimpse whatever exotic part of the world she was in.
He lifted one shoulder. “It’s okay, if you don’t mind not having a home base.”
She thought about that for a minute, then shook her head. “No, I’d have to have someplace to claim as home.” She grinned at him. “Or that would claim me, at least.”
He grinned back then. A quick, flashing grin as lethal as any she’d ever seen. And she’d seen a few. Again she had to reassess Ian Gamble.
Who hadn’t, she realized, told her his name.
“So tell me, where’s the best pizza, Chinese takeout and ice cream?” she asked, knowing full well those were his weaknesses.
He blinked. And the grin widened. “Luigi’s, Wong Fu’s and The Ice Cream Factory. All within walking distance, if you like to walk.”
“Hallelujah.”
“Luigi’s and Wong Fu’s even deliver,” he added helpfully.
“I may survive,” she said. “Thanks—” She lifted a brow at the place where normally she would have said his name. He didn’t miss the hint.
“Ian. Ian Gamble.”
She held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Ian.” No macho posturing here. His handshake was firm but not crushing. “I’ll replace the sugar.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“Okay, then I’ll buy the ice cream one night.”
“I…uh…”
He looked so startled it disconcerted her. He was a reasonably attractive man—well, okay, more than reasonably—surely he’d had a woman ask him for a casual date before. Hadn’t he?
He was, she knew, only thirty-two, hardly old enough to be of the mind-set that women simply didn’t ask men out.
“How about tomorrow afternoon?” she asked, thinking perhaps a Sunday afternoon might seem less threatening. “Besides,” she added, “that way you can show me where it is.”
That practicality seemed to convince him, and he nodded. “Okay. If it can be late afternoon, I’ve got some work to finish up.”
“Work? On Sunday?” He shrugged. She looked at the two computers. “Are you some kind of dot com guy or something?”
He laughed. It was as nice as his smile. “Not hardly. I’m just a…researcher.”
Had he hesitated over using the word inventor? And if so, why? she wondered. Because it was too hard to explain to strangers?
“You work at home?” she asked.
“No. I work downtown.”
“So do I.”
As if the need to be careful had just come back to him full force, he asked, “Where did you move from?”
“An apartment so small I could barely breathe,” she said, with total honesty. She never spent much time in the place she’d moved into after Billy had settled into his own new home, because she was on the road so much for Josh. But when she was there for more than a few days, it seemed cramped. She had the feeling that by the time this was over, she’d miss the extra room. This house wasn’t huge, but it was three times the size of her apartment.
“This will be worth the extra drive,” she added, and he seemed to accept the implication that her apartment was closer to her work.
“It’s a nice neighborhood. Quiet.”
“Good. I’ve already picked out my favorite reading spot, up in the window seat,” she said, figuring she’d supply the reason now, in case he noticed and started to wonder why she was up there so much.
“You read a lot?”
“Not as much as I’d like. That’s why I’m planning on more.”
He smiled at that, the understanding smile of a fellow reader. She gestured around at the living room office. “Do you read anything but work?”
“I try, but like you, not as much as I’d like. I read history, mostly. But now and then a good mystery will keep me up nights.”
“Me,
