him well. “I go by Kit. Kit Angelis.”
She transferred her frown from the card to him, and this time when he looked into those green eyes, he felt a little punch right in his solar plexus.
“Have we ever met before?” she asked.
“No.” Kit was absolutely certain of that—in spite of the fact that what he was feeling bordered on recognition.
“It says on this card that you’re a private investigator.” Her tone held a note of accusation—as if the card were lying.
“I am,” he explained, “during the days. On my free nights, I write crime fiction.” As he gestured around the room, a breeze sent more papers scattering to the floor. “You’ve caught me in my writing mode.”
“I’m interrupting, then.” She didn’t appear to be at all reassured by his explanation. If their positions had been reversed, Kit wasn’t sure he would have been, either.
“Not at all.” It wasn’t a lie, really. She hadn’t interrupted. He hadn’t even gotten one word down. Something she saw on his face must have reassured her—perhaps the dimples had finally kicked in—because she took a few steps forward. Good, he thought as he willed her to take a few more. He sat perfectly still while she did. Experience had taught him that luring a woman wasn’t a lot different than reeling in a fish. Patience and persistence usually paid off.
She was close enough now that he could reach out and touch her. Kit had to suppress a powerful urge to do just that. He wanted very much to trace his finger along her jawline, to find out if that porcelain-delicate skin was as cool as it looked. He thought not, but a good investigator always tested his theories.
“You do investigate crimes, then?”
“Hmm?” Kit reined his thoughts in from the little detour they’d taken.
“You investigate crimes, right?” She was studying his face very closely.
He finessed his wallet out of his pocket, flipped it open and handed it to her. “I’ve been licensed by the state of California to do just that. I’m even allowed to charge for my services.”
She glanced down at the wallet, then back at him. “Could you find out if I’ve committed a crime?”
He noted that her knuckles had turned white on the strap of the tote. He wanted very much to take that hand in his, but he kept himself very still.
“Probably.”
“How?” she asked.
“My brother Nik is a cop. If a crime has been committed and the police are involved, he would know. I also have friends at the newspaper and TV stations. What kind of a crime are we talking about?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a robbery. Maybe worse. That’s what I need you to find out.”
He said nothing, but he noted the way her grip tightened on the dress bag and the tote.
She held out his wallet to him, and when he took it, his fingers brushed accidentally against hers. Well, perhaps not accidentally.
The effect of that casual touch shocked both of them. She snatched her hand back as if it had been burned. And he knew exactly how she felt. The brief contact had sent a little current of electricity zinging along his nerve endings, and the knowledge that she’d been affected, too, had desire twisting his stomach into a hot, hard knot.
“I—” She faltered as if she’d lost her train of thought. He’d better damn well gather his own or he was going to lose her. He could read it in her eyes. She was still thinking of bolting.
Suppressing panic, he summoned up a businesslike tone. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me who you are and what happened?”
She pressed her lips together firmly, drew in a deep breath and met his eyes. Beneath that fragile-looking exterior was an inner strength that he couldn’t help but admire. “Are you any good at what you do?”
Considering the first impression he must have made, Kit couldn’t fault the skepticism in her tone. He sent her another smile, again putting his faith in the dimples. “I’m the best.”
She studied him for one more moment, then nodded. “I want to hire you, then.”
Relief streamed through him. “Fine.” He’d made the decision to take her case the moment he’d set eyes on her. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she spelled trouble. But he was Greek enough, curious enough, not to turn his back on what fate dropped smack in his path. The twenty pages would have to wait. So would his fishing trip with Theo and Nik, if necessary.
“To make it official, I’ll need a retainer. Do you have a dollar?” he asked.
“You’ll help me, then?”
“Yes.” Kit tried to ignore the feeling that he was agreeing to a lot more than a case.
She let out the breath she was holding and, for one brief moment, he thought she might lose that iron grip she seemed to have on her control. His admiration for her shot up a few more notches when she didn’t. Finally, she set the leather tote on a chair, opened it and dug out a twenty. “I don’t have anything smaller.”
Kit took the bill she offered and placed it next to his closed laptop. “Neither do I so I’ll have to owe you nineteen.” He met her eyes steadily. “Will you trust me?”
There was an instant of hesitation before she nodded. “Yes.”
A careful lady, he thought as he smiled at her. This was a woman who preferred to test the waters before she jumped in. That wasn’t his particular style, but he could admire it in others. “Good. Now, you said, “maybe worse.” Can you be more specific?”
Drawing in another deep breath, she finally let go of the death grip she had on the dress bag and draped it carefully over the back of the chair.
Then she stepped to the side and pointed to the stains on her skirt. “It’s blood, I think. I don’t believe it’s mine. I checked, and I’m not bleeding anywhere. But I don’t know how it got there. I can’t remember what happened.”
“You can’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything before the accident. I was in a taxi that was in a collision just a few blocks from here.” She gestured at the bruise on her temple. “I must have bumped my head during the impact, and I don’t remember anything before I came to in the backseat. I don’t know my name, what I do or what may have happened before I got in that taxi.”
Kit glanced at the tote. “What about a wallet? Do you have some ID in that bag?”
She shook her head. “I checked. And I couldn’t find my purse in the taxi. Everything’s a blank. And…there’s a wedding gown in the dress bag. I don’t know why I’m carrying it around. I could be on my way to my wedding or running away from it. I don’t remember.”
There’d been a thread of panic building steadily in her voice, and Kit felt some of it move through him. In sympathy? He might have accepted that explanation if he hadn’t tasted something bitter when she’d mentioned she might
