Page 84 of A Dead End Wedding

"What?" I turned to look at him, and he was staring at me with that same look of serious intensity in his eyes that he'd had at the jail. The temperature in the room shot up a few hundred degrees.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't go out with that woman in the bar. Or even with Gina, beyond two dinners more than a year and a half ago. She develops obsessions and has a hard time letting go, according to her shrink. You might quit jumping to conclusions long enough to listen to me, Counselor."

"I—"

"Right. Whatever." He stood up in a smooth motion that reminded me of a leopard I'd seen pacing at the zoo. I wasn't sure which of the two would be more dangerous.

Enough with the woo woo stuff, December. He's just an ordinary, if good-looking, guy. Get over it, already.

He reached into his pocket, and I felt my body tense up.

He noticed it, too, and raised his eyebrows. "Do I make you nervous, December?"

I lifted my chin. "Not hardly, Brody. It would take more than one little P.I. to make you nervous. What are you, former Jacksonville Sheriff's Office?" A lot of the investigators I'd known started out in the sheriff's department.

He smiled that dangerous smile again. "No, I used to work for Uncle Sam. The Navy."

"Oh, my dad was in the Navy. He was a flight engineer on P-3s. What did you do?"

"I didn't get to wear the pretty uniform all that much," he said, taking a step toward me.

I took a step back, warning bells jangling.

He smiled again. "I do a lot of work for the law firms in town, if you ever need my services. Just call me. I owe you one." He tossed a business card on my desk, then brushed past me on his way to my door. "Later, Vaughn."

I closed my eyes and let out the breath I'd been holding in for what felt like the past ten minutes, then my eyes shot back open as I felt his breath on the side of my neck. "Hmmm," he purred in my ear. "You have that effect on me, too. This is going to be an interesting friendship."

By the time I thought up a good comeback and whirled around, he was gone.

I'm in all kinds of trouble.

Almost time to go home, and the phone had been blessedly silent for the rest of the afternoon as I worked on Charlie's case and spent almost fifteen whole minutes wrestling with what Max liked to call our office budget.

We had no money and no real paying clients.

That's our budget.

My savings would run out in less than three months if I didn't start making some money. So, of course, I was planning out mypro bonowork, right?

Suicidal optimism.

The phone rang, and I picked up. "Hey, Max. Why don't you head home? I'm almost done for now."

"Yeah, I'm on my way out. But you have Gina Schiantelli on line two for you. Good night."

"Maybe she wants help to find a therapist. Thanks for making that list of social services for me. Good night."

I picked up line two, smiling at the thought of playing Helpful Lawyer again. "Hello, Gina?—"

Hideous shrieking cut me off. "You stay away from him! I saw him go to your office! You stay away from Jake, or I'll cut all that blonde hair off and stuff it up your?—"

"Whoa! What are you talking about? Jake stopped by to talk about YOU, Gina. You need to calm down, and we can?—"

"No, you need to calm down, or you're going to be in big trouble. Got it? BIG trouble!"

At least I held the phone away from my ear as she slammed the phone down. I was getting plenty of practice.

Really, isn't this solo practitioner thing just the most fun I've had since that time I got food poisoning?

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