even though he’d forced himself to shut off the video feed on those few occasions where she’d started to strip off a little more than a stranger had the right to see.
“It’s Jake Brennan,” he called through the door. “I did some work on your office a couple of months ago and I think I might have left one of my tools behind.”
He knew she’d remember him from his brief stint working there. He’d given her a steal on his labor, mostly because his work was entirely self-serving.
Plus, she’d eyeballed him enough that day to make him think she hadn’t been oblivious to his presence in her office. If it hadn’t been for his suspicions of her back then, he would have asked her out.
Now that he was going to retrieve the surveillance equipment and declare this part of his case finished, Jake looked forward to seeing her again without his work as a barrier.
Inside, he could hear her slide a dead bolt and flip one other lock open. He could picture it perfectly since he knew the inside of that office like the back of his hand from watching Marnie run her business day in and day out. Other than the brief view he’d allowed himself in the car, however, he hadn’t reviewed any tapes in a while. Not since his case had led him in another direction.
Slowly, the door creaked open.
A whisper of black silk fluttered through the crack. She’d left the final latch on the door—a long hook like the kind used on hotel rooms—so she could see into the street without leaving herself vulnerable.
Recognizing the black silk as the calf-length, sexy number she liked to wear around the place before bed, he swallowed hard, knowing damn well she wasn’t wearing much else.
“Sorry to bother you so late—”
The expression on her face froze him in his shoes. Pursed lips, a clamped-tight jaw and gray eyes staring daggers at him all suggested he’d interrupted something. Had she been arguing with someone on the phone? Protective instincts flared to life.
“Is everything okay in there?” He stepped closer, trying to look past her into the familiar office interior that he’d seen often enough on his surveillance tapes. Framed prints of the Egyptian pyramids hung next to a map of London highlighting historic pubs.
“Everything is fine.” She spoke the words oddly, like a marionette where the mouth’s movement didn’t quite match up with the sounds. “Especially now that you’re here.”
“I don’t get it.” He didn’t like the brittle set of her shoulders or the flushed color in her cheeks. Was she not feeling well?
Before he could ask, she raised a silver-tipped dart that he remembered well from an earlier meeting.
“You’re just in time for target practice while we wait for the cops to arrive.”
“What?”
His confusion only lasted until she arced back her arm and let the missile fly, aiming for his eye.
Oh, shit.
Belatedly, he realized her assortment of symptoms pointed to stone-cold fury. All directed at him.
Luckily she was so angry, that her release point was late and the dart clattered harmlessly to the concrete pavement at his feet.
“How could you?” she yelled through the narrow opening. Disappearing for a moment, she returned with a whole handful of darts. “You pervert!”
The darts started flying in earnest now and he took cover against the door.
Ace detective work told him she’d found his hidden camera.
“Marnie?” He tried leaning into her line of sight between rounds of incoming fire. “Did you really call the cops?”
That was going to be a nightmare. He had as many enemies on the force as he had friends. With his luck, one of the former would answer the call and gladly lock his ass up for the night until he could straighten away the paperwork.
“Of course.” Another dart.
He ducked.
“You can wait with me while the local police bring you a pair of handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit.” A painted pink stone that he happened to know was her paperweight came hurtling through the opening now, joining the darts on the pavement.
He heard the stomp of furious footsteps away from the door. Leaning into the vacated space, he used the time to make his case.
“Marnie, wait.” He pulled out his wallet and tossed it inside her storefront where it skidded across the gray commercial carpet and thudded against her ankle. “There’s my ID. I’m a licensed private investigator.”
She slowed her battle with the buttons on the desk phone. Apparently, she’d been making more calls. To a friend or neighbor? Backup to be sure he stuck around long enough for his own arrest?
“If that’s true, that sounds only marginally less smarmy than being a complete and total perv.” She cradled the phone against her shoulder and started punching buttons again, this time with slow deliberation.
“Premiere Properties didn’t terminate you because they couldn’t fund your department. They terminated you because of a major embezzlement scam that originated in your sector of the company. You were a prime suspect.”
She shook her head. Confused. Shocked. He’d seen that expression on people’s faces when he’d worked in homicide and he’d had to face grieving family members to question them. Hell, he still saw that expression as a P.I. when a wife learned her husband had been cheating. He didn’t take jobs like that often, but sometimes he could be persuaded. Having been on the clueless end of an unfaithful relationship made him empathize.
Marnie’s face mirrored that kind of disillusionment now.
“Who are you?” She seemed to see him for the first time that night, her brows furrowed in concentration as if she could guess his motives if she stared hard enough.
Relieved, he pointed to her feet.
“My ID is right there. Just hang up the phone long enough to let me talk to you.”
With a jerky nod, she replaced the receiver and retrieved his wallet. Seeing his Florida private investigator’s license inside, she met his gaze again.
“I didn’t really call the cops yet. I only just found that camera a minute before you arrived.”
Thank God. He didn’t want to deal with that drama tonight.
“I’m going to collect the darts out here,” he told her, scooping up the littered sidewalk. “If you want to meet me somewhere you’ll feel safe, we can talk.”
By the time he straightened, she was already back at the partially opened door. The stiff set to her shoulders had vanished.
Her caramel-colored hair slid loose from a messy twist on one side, the freed strands grazing her shoulder where her satin robe drooped enough to show she wore a black cotton tank top underneath it. Her gray eyes locked on his, searching his face for answers.
“I
