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“Whatever, Mark.”
It was her third whatever of the day. He was starting to loathe the word.
He looked at JoJo—what a silly name. “As you can tell, my daughter and I have a very loving and close relationship. It’s why we’re here together today. She can’t stand being apart from me.”
Sophie sat in one of the lobby chairs and said nothing. Mark sat on a couch and gestured to a chair across from it, indicating that JoJo should sit, as well.
He didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to ask, now that, once again, he was firmly against the idea of this woman working for him. She simply wasn’t going to fit in his world. His old one, yes. No question she would have fit. Hell, in his old life he would have been champing at the bit to get to know the woman behind the tattoos.
But in his new world, he couldn’t allow himself to cater to personal whims.
“You don’t quite look like the candidate you presented yourself to be.” Perfect. He could back out under the pretense that she’d misrepresented herself. Covering up her hair length...who did that?
“Sometimes people don’t look past the surface. So I didn’t dress to be obvious.”
“Obvious is one word for it.”
“Mark,” Sophie snapped. “How uncool. Just because she doesn’t look like everyone else that’s somehow wrong?”
Oh, yeah. The joys of fatherhood just kept on coming. “Do you mind, Sophie? I’m conducting an interview.”
“You’re being a total square.”
“Seriously? People still say square?”
“No.” She smirked. “People say douche bag but I thought that was crossing a line.”
“It did,” he snarled.
“Uh, excuse me?” JoJo waved her hand. “My interview, remember?”
“You do understand,” Mark said, “in this line of work blending in matters. Not standing out.” He waved his hand to indicate her whole being as one big standout. “No offense, but you don’t exactly blend.”
“Is that the only thing preventing me from getting this job? You’re concerned about how the way I look would affect my work?”
Not really. But what was he supposed to say? That her unapologetic style bothered him? That he felt uncomfortable merely sitting across from her? That his discomfort wouldn’t be conducive to a solid working relationship? That her eyes were really, really blue?
She would be the only other investigator working for him, and he imagined them spending a lot of time consulting with one another on their cases. Something akin to a partnership. Then there was the idea of having her look into the note. That meant actually trusting this woman.
He couldn’t explain all that. Instead he kept it simple. “I guess it is. I’ve spoken with Ben and he says I would be crazy to let you pass by. In fact, he’s waiting in the wings to scoop you up if I do.”
Another fact that rankled him. If he didn’t hire her and she worked for Ben, he might run into her at Ben’s office. How irritating would it be to find her solving cases for Ben while he was left with someone less talented?
No doubt Ben would lord it over him.
“Okay,” JoJo said, “we’ll make it a challenge. I bet I can leave and, within half an hour, be in your line of sight without you realizing it’s me.”
“That’s totally awesome. Mark, you have to let her do it.”
Mark gave his daughter a wry smile. Maybe he could impress her at last. “JoJo, you do realize I was a CIA black-ops analyst in the field for years.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “And years and years...”
Okay, maybe not.
“Observation is what I do. It’s how I survived. You can’t get past me. Especially not with the tattoos.”
JoJo held out her hand. “It’s a bet then. I do this, I get the job. You win, you get to show off your observation skills to your daughter. The only thing you’re out is a half hour of your time.”
“We were going to go eat—”
“Are you kidding me?” Sophie said. “I’m not leaving. I want to see this.”
JoJo winked at Sophie and his daughter smiled. Great, he thought. She’d known this woman for minutes and they had bonded more than he had with his daughter in months.
He did need another agent. Especially if the threat against Sophie was real. JoJo’s résumé did speak for itself....
Not that he was worried about losing, but he conceded that, if she pulled off the impossible, it wouldn’t be the worst thing from a professional standpoint.
Personal, maybe, but he could get over that. He would get over that.
He looked at his watch and pressed the timer.
“You have thirty minutes. You must be in my line of sight. If I identify you, I win. If I don’t, you’re hired. Go.”
She didn’t run. She didn’t leave through the front door, which was what he would have done. Much better to be someone coming in that way, then coming down the elevator where he could concentrate his attention.
Instead, she sauntered to the elevators in that same efficient, but also aggressive, walk of hers. A walk that said, Get out of my way, I’m coming through. She stepped through the door and Mark leaned back to wait.
Thirty minutes. He wished he had a magazine to help kill the time.
CHAPTER THREE
MARK CHECKED HIS WATCH. Twenty-three minutes had passed. He watched the elevators for activity then swung his attention to the front entrance. A man and woman walked in, but a quick assessment told him the woman was well over fifty. Not that makeup couldn’t do wonders, but JoJo wouldn’t have had enough time to put together a costume like that.
He turned to the elevators and spied a family getting out. A mother, a father and a teenage boy who was dressed from head to toe in black and carried a skateboard over his shoulder.
At least he looked like a boy. Mark kept his attention on the kid, searching for tells. There was a tattoo on his arm, but nothing around his neck. Was that sparkle on his face a nose ring? He heard Sophie gasp—clearly she was wondering the same thing.
Had JoJo, a small woman, turned herself into an average-sized teenage boy?
The front door opened again and a single woman walked in. Tall, blond, pretty, wearing a shockingly red coat over a short skirt and high heels. Mark assessed her quickly, and decided anyone trying to blend in wouldn’t wear such an eye-catching color, nor something so provocative as the short skirt. It would naturally draw the attention of any man in the vicinity. It, in fact, drew his. Her legs were fabulous.
Still, there was something about the way she moved. Mark’s gaze followed her to the desk, where she asked to use a phone. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she held the receiver to her ear. Mark could not see tattoos on her neck.
“Twenty-eight minutes,” Sophie announced.
Mark stood to scope out hiding spots around the lobby where she could claim to be in his line of sight, but actually be hidden from view. The people working behind the desk hadn’t changed, so she hadn’t sneaked in that way. The family stood together, using the lobby computer. The boy had his back to Mark, so he couldn’t check for blue eyes. Instead Mark studied the shape of his back, his height.
Close. Definitely close to JoJo’s height. Had she paid the two people to pose as parents?
“Twenty-nine minutes. She’s so going to win.”
Mark shot Sophie a glance and started toward the kid. A motion in his periphery caught his attention. The woman on the phone had lifted a leg up behind her. He followed that beautiful leg to her shoes.
Not just high heels. Platform high heels. They raised her height by at least two inches.
Gotcha.
“Time is up. Who is she?”
Mark looked at his daughter. “Do you know?”
“I have my suspicions.” Her smile was smug.
Smiling. Sophie was smiling. Mark looked at the blonde again. She had turned and he briefly caught her eye, but she bent her head and continued talking into the phone.
“You think that’s her?” Mark pointed toward the kid.
Sophie’s face fell a little. She obviously thought JoJo was the boy, and that he had won. He wasn’t sure if Sophie was displeased that he had won or that JoJo had lost.
It had been a very short time for two people to make such a positive connection. There were worse things than his daughter liking someone Mark employed.
He was throwing the contest, but in all of the time he had spent with Sophie, this was the most fun they had ever had. Deliberately, he went over and tapped the kid on the shoulder. The boy turned around, his Adam’s apple clearly visible. “What?”
“Oh, sorry,” Mark said. “I mistook you for someone else.”
“Whatever.”
Ah, yes, Mark’s favorite word. The kid turned around and Mark could see the father shoot him a look, but Mark simply folded his arms over his chest and waited.
The blonde made her way to him sporting a victorious smile.
“Oh, my God, I totally did not guess that was you,” Sophie said hopping up and down on her toes with excitement. “How did you hide the tattoos?”
“A trick I learned from Hollywood actresses.” JoJo tilted her neck and peeled off a thin layer of beige tape. “They use this stuff when they’re filming.”
Effective, at least from a distance. Up close, Mark could see the faint outline of the tape on the other side of her neck. That was probably why she hadn’t used the adhesive during her interview.
“Not bad. Hiding in plain sight. It worked.”
“Did it?” JoJo asked. Their eyes met. She clearly knew she’d been caught. She wasn’t counting on Mark throwing the contest.
Sophie looked at him. “Yes, totally. You won the job. Right, Mark? I mean, you’re not going to back off the bet now?”
“Nope.” He put his hands into his pockets. “You won fair and square. Since today is Tuesday, you can take a few days to get settled. Be at the office at eight o’clock sharp next Monday and we’ll work out salary and what your billing rate will be.”
JoJo held out her hand and Mark shook it. Odd for such a small hand to pack such a firm grip. She was a study in contrasts.
“Sophie, why don’t you check the computer for restaurants. Find some place you want to eat.”
“Okay. You should invite JoJo. It can be like a celebration dinner for beating you.”
Sophie left him in a ridiculously awkward situation. He didn’t particularly want to have dinner with JoJo. He would need the next few days to come to grips with the fact that he was now working with her. Maybe dinner would help with that. Maybe he would find himself less uncomfortable after breaking bread together.
“Would you like to join us? Not sure what Sophie will pick, her tastes are rather eclectic. It could be burgers, it could be sushi or it could be Thai food.”
“Why did you let me win?”
Mark feigned confusion.
“You caught my eye, let me know you knew it was me. Then you tapped the kid on the shoulder. Why?”
“I guess I decided I wanted to hire you after all. Besides, it was a good costume. It almost had me fooled.”
“You looked at my legs,” she said. Not judgmentally, but merely as a statement of fact.
“That was the intention, wasn’t it? For me to look at them and not at you.”
“Yes. I want to make sure you’re not going to have an issue working with me. Maybe the problem isn’t the tattoos. Maybe the problem is I’m a woman.”
Mark laughed. “Trust me. That’s not the problem. I’ve worked with plenty of women in my career. Operatives and soldiers. I have nothing but respect for people who do their job and do it well, regardless of their gender.”
“Okay.” JoJo nodded slowly. As if reaching some conclusion about him.
“And if you’re worried about me being attracted to you, I can promise you that won’t be an issue.”
“Okay...” she drawled.
He realized he’d basically said she was unattractive. At least unattractive to him. What phrase had Sophie used? Douche bag? It seemed appropriate here.
“Look, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re a very attractive woman. I just... For me...”
“I get it.”
“Your legs were really distracting—”
“Mark, put a sock in it. This is actually a good thing. You’re not into me and I would never find someone like you attractive, either. So we’re cool. Business colleagues and that’s it.”
“That’s it,” Mark agreed. Although why the idea that she would never find someone like him attractive suddenly bothered him, he couldn’t say.
* * *
SOPHIE HAD GONE with Mexican. The restaurant was a small place off Market Street. Not a lot of ambiance but the waiter brought out a big basket of hot chips and spicy salsa. Combined with a margarita and JoJo had all a girl needed to be happy in life.
For a second she considered passing on the drink. Not exactly a good image, to be drinking in front of the boss shortly after being hired, but she had concluded she was done playing games for this guy. She was hired. She wasn’t working a case. She would have a drink and not put on any more pretenses.
She’d gone to her room to ditch the wig and the tape, but she kept her outfit on because that was part of her, too. The vibrant red coat hung on a hook at the corner of the booth.
Neither Mark nor Sophie could refrain from checking out her tattoos every once in a while.
JoJo couldn’t pretend it bothered her. After all, she’d gotten the tattoos for a very specific purpose—just like she did most things in her life. So to complain when people stared seemed hypocritical.
She also knew that with her tattoos she was writing off nice guys like Mark Sharpe, who would never be attracted to her. Solid businessman, clean-cut. Probably a conservative who wore boxers. Yes, he was definitely not her type.
Still, as she looked at him with his neatly trimmed dark hair, his barely there scruff along his chin and his dark sweater that highlighted broad shoulders, she got the impression he wasn’t quite the conformist he portrayed.
Then there were his eyes. To say they were brown didn’t describe them at all. They reminded her of a bird’s eyes. Sharp and calculating. Assessing her like she was nothing more than a squirrel he would hunt for sport rather than food.
There was no escaping those eyes now that they were focused on her. They were like her tattoos. Badass. When he’d looked at her in the lobby and she knew she’d been made, she’d felt like prey being given a reprieve. She wouldn’t be so lucky next time.
JoJo made a mental note that there wouldn’t be a next time. As a rule, she wasn’t intimidated by men. The experience she had with her father after her sister had died made intimidation impossible. She never feared men because she knew she could survive anything.
Mark was different, somehow. He threatened her in a way she couldn’t define.
Unfortunately that threat didn’t mean he wasn’t someone she might be attracted to. If anything, it contributed to the possibility. Telling him he wasn’t her type had been a flat-out lie. Done out of pride because he was so completely not into her. Also because she wanted to affirm there was no way she would ever be attracted to someone she worked for.
Which was a crock. A woman couldn’t control who she was attracted to. She only controlled what she did with that attraction.
She had been lucky that it was never a concern in her prior job. Even if there had been someone, she never would have crossed the line. It was hard to earn respect from your peers if they thought they could take you to bed. A perfectly logical reason to avoid interoffice dating.
Of course she’d also never had a relationship with any of the men from her last firm because she was completely and totally messed up emotionally. Every once in a while she forgot that.
“So,” JoJo said, dipping a chip into the salsa. “What’s your deal?” She looked at both Sophie and Mark. It was a nosy question, but she was a detective. She lived to be nosy.
Mark didn’t say anything, but Sophie looked at him, clearly waiting for him to say something first. Mark just shifted in the booth and reached for a chip.
“No deal.”
“Okay.” JoJo was prepared to let it go, but she could hear Sophie huff.
“Uh, please. She wants to know why I call you Mark. And why we’re together.”
“You call me Mark to annoy me.”
“My mom is dead.”
JoJo heard the flat note in the girl’s voice. It was as if she practiced saying it over and over again in the mirror so that when she had to say it out loud, to real people, she wouldn’t crack.
JoJo was sure her own voice had the same tone when she told people her sister was dead.
“I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. It was an accident that happened months ago. Actually...it’s over a year now. I forgot.” Sophie frowned but quickly shook away whatever bad stuff was floating through her head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Mark left me when I was a baby to save the world in Afghanistan and when my mom died he had to come back. I wanted to stay with my grandparents, but they’re too old to keep up with me so I’m stuck with Mark.”
Mark clenched his jaw and JoJo watched the muscle in his cheek spasm. “That’s about eighty percent accurate.”
“What part is wrong?” Sophie asked, having clearly told her story as truthfully as possible.
“You say I left you like I dropped you on the side of the road. Your mother and I reached a decision. Also, I would like to add that I have been in touch with you throughout your life.”
Sophie turned to JoJo. “Sorry. He sent me cards and gifts for my birthday and Christmas. When he wasn’t hiding under a rock somewhere, we would talk over the internet. Really intense conversations, too, like, ‘What grade are you in now?’ Mostly I saw a grainy picture of a guy with a scarf over his face. Half the time I didn’t even recognize him. So emotional.”
“It’s sandy and windy in the Stans. Scarves are a necessary accessory for, you know, breathing.”
“What—”
“—ever,” Mark finished. “Yes. But you should also know I didn’t come back because your mother died. I was coming back regardless. Your mother’s death only sped up the process.”
Sophie said nothing, but shook her head to show she didn’t believe it. Then she lifted her hand to her mouth and nibbled on a fingernail.
“You’re not supposed to do that,” Mark said.
Instantly her hand dropped and she reached for the chips.
“That’s the other thing about Sophie,” Mark said. “She’s a child prodigy. A piano player who has toured the country and Europe performing with various orchestras. Right now she’s under contract with the Philadelphia Orchestra.”
“I’m almost fifteen now. We can lose the child-prodigy tag. Just say I play the piano.”
“I would like to hear you sometime,” JoJo said.
“I can get you tickets.”
“Cool.”
JoJo looked again at Mark. He sat back in the booth defensively, looking like he wanted to escape, but he didn’t move. JoJo knew what it was like to have a broken relationship with her father. The difference between Mark and her dad was that Mark cared about what Sophie thought of him. He cared that she felt abandoned. And his expression showed that he also felt guilty.
That was something JoJo’s father had never felt. Still didn’t.
Mark excused himself to go to the restroom. “If the waiter comes—”
“You want a beef burrito,” Sophie said. “Like that’s news.”
Mark paused and a small smile lit up his face. “You know how tempted I am to say I want fajitas?”
“Cutting off your nose to spite your face. You know you want the burrito.”
His smile only grew larger. “You’re right. I do.”
JoJo watched him walk away and tried not to notice how nicely his jeans fit over a firm ass. Nice shoulders, nice ass. Oh, my. When was the last time she’d taken in a man’s appearance like that? And of all men, it had to be her new boss?
When she looked at Sophie, the girl was biting her fingernails again. As soon as she noticed JoJo’s eyes on her, Sophie dropped her hands into her lap.
“Why aren’t you supposed to bite your nails?”
Sophie wiggled her fingers. “Don’t want anything messing with the tools. A hangnail or infection could be death for an artist like me.”
JoJo heard the sarcasm that was obviously a big part of who Sophie was. But it also let JoJo know the girl didn’t take herself too seriously. Which was probably a good thing in someone so talented.
“I really am sorry about your mom. I’m not just saying it.”
There was a shimmer in the girl’s eyes that she would hate to know was there. A small crack. Instantly JoJo felt contrite for making the girl crack in front of company. As a concession she offered her own pain. “I lost my sister. When I was young.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“It blows.”
Sophie nodded. “It’s like...I get up every day and I do the stuff I am supposed to do. Like nothing happened. Only everything happened.”
“You feel guilty.”
“Yeah. Like I should be in my room crying every day. And some days that’s all I want to do, but I don’t. I go to practice, I go to rehearsal. I get ready to perform. It’s like this horrible thing didn’t happen. Only it did. I forgot it was more than a year ago.”
This was where JoJo was supposed to offer up some nice words. You’ll work through it. It will get better. It was the least she could do.
“It will get better.” JoJo choked out the words.
“Will it?”
“No,” JoJo admitted truthfully. The girl was too smart and would see through any fabrication. When you removed the bullshit there was only the truth. “No, it doesn’t get better. It just gets less worse.”
Sophie took a chip from the basket. “She died in a car accident. The guy wasn’t even drunk. It was just some stupid car accident.”
“My sister was murdered. She was my twin and she was murdered.”
JoJo had belched up the words—they never came out freely. But she’d played a game with a master spy and had won. Sort of. And she had gulped down a really good margarita on a stomach that was empty except for a few chips.
It felt like Sophie got it. They both knew the same pain. It was different when people died when they were supposed to because of old age or after a long illness. When they died young, the pain was sharper because it happened so abruptly. Sophie’s pain was fresher, but JoJo’s was no less intense.
“Murder. Oh, my God, that, like, totally sucks. I’m really sorry. Is that why you became a detective?”
“It’s why I became...everything.”
* * *
MARK OPENED THE door to his apartment and let Sophie pass by him.
“I was thinking of watching a movie. You up for it?”
“I’m going to read. I have work to do for Nancy that I’d rather get out of the way tonight.”
She’d rather do homework than watch a movie with him.
Ouch.
Still, he wasn’t going to complain. Today, by far, had been their best day together. She’d been almost happy while playing with baby Kelly. She’d agreed to go with him to meet JoJo. And he knew she liked JoJo.
To quote Sophie on their ride to their apartment, JoJo was cool.
The best news of all was that she knew he preferred beef burritos. It meant they were getting to know each other. Maybe reluctantly on her part, but it was happening.
“Yeah, sure. If you’re interested, maybe we could take in the new superhero movie that’s coming out this weekend.”
She halted. “You’re into superheroes?”
“Honey, I was a superhero.”
She rolled her eyes, but at least he got her to smile. “Yeah, sure. Okay. What—”
“Please. I beg of you. No more whatevers. Not tonight.”
“Lame. First one up makes breakfast.”
“Deal,” he said, even though he knew it was a trap. Sophie had mastered the art of staying in bed until he was awake, so he would be stuck with breakfast duty. One time he tried to outwait her and ended up lying in bed staring at the ceiling until almost ten in the morning. While dinner was his responsibility, they both agreed breakfast and lunch were a free-for-all. During the week they stuck to toast or cereal.