When a loved one goes missing…and no one believes you…

Weeping in front of customers isn’t Laney Adams’s style. She would have gone unnoticed if security expert Teague Johnson hadn’t come to her grooming shop to pick up his boss’s dog, Cutter. Something about Teague—or maybe it’s the uncannily perceptive canine—compels her to open up about her best friend who’s gone missing and how she feels responsible. The confession reminds Teague of his own secret guilt. He can’t turn away. With the help of the Foxworth Foundation—and Cutter—Laney and Teague launch a dangerous search that leads to unexpected twists…and undeniable passion.

“I introduced them. This is my fault.”

Instinctively Teague reached across the table and put his hand over Laney’s. “You didn’t know.”

He needed to know more about what had triggered her worry.

“Tell me what about your friend’s texts you felt were off. You showed them to the police?”

She grimaced again as she nodded. “They thought it was just drunk texting. I know better.”

“Because?”

She reached into the low front pocket of her shirt—when had scrubs become somehow sexy? he wondered—and pulled out a phone. She tapped it a few times, then held it out to him.

He took it and read the message:

Take care of Pepper 4me, pls? He’s such a gd dog. Thx

“Seems innocuous enough,” Teague said.

“Yes. Except for three things. Pepper? A cat. And a she.” She took a deep breath. “And she’s been dead for ten years.”

Cutter’s Code: Men of honor offering the ultimate in private witness protection

Dear Reader,

I once set up a friend on a blind date. While they were out doing the traditional dinner and a movie, I sat at home in a panic. It would go horribly, they would have a horrible time, they would hate each other and then both hate me, what was I thinking? As time passed and my friend didn’t call to berate me, and I couldn’t reach her, that writer’s imagination that is both blessing and curse went crazy. By midnight I’d decided they’d both been killed in a car accident. By 2:00 a.m., they’d picked up a hitchhiker who turned out to be an ax murderer. By 4:00 a.m., I’d sent my friend into the clutches of a serial killer.

Ten months later, they got married. They’d been talking all that time, and never once thought of me and my wicked imagination. Hmpf.

I recovered, basked in my own cleverness for a while, wore the official title of “matchmaker” at the wedding with some embarrassment, and laughed at those awful moments when I feared the worst. But apparently I never really forgot them, because they resurfaced as I was toying with the beginnings of this book. May this be as close as you ever come to this scenario!

Happy reading,

Justine

Operation Blind Date

Justine Davis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JUSTINE DAVIS

lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by, and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.

Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at Twitter.com/Justine_D_Davis, or on Facebook at Facebook.com/JustineDareDavis.

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A lonely little girl.

A mistreated pup who needed a home.

A perfect match.

Ten to nineteen, important years for a girl.

He was the brother I didn’t have.

My playmate, my confidant.

My comfort through some rough family years.

He showed me the heart hole only a dog can fill.

And the real meaning of unconditional love.

Decades later, and a slew of dogs afterwards,

I miss him yet. Love ya’, Scamper!

—Pam Baker

This is the second in a series of dedications from readers who have shared the pain of the loss of a beloved dog. For more information visit my website at www.justinedavis.com.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Change was coming.

He could feel it in the air, Teague Johnson thought. It wouldn’t be long before the trees started to turn. Soon after that there would be a riot of color as the Pacific Northwest said goodbye to summer and settled in for a long, likely wet and maybe cold winter.

He’d missed that. As a kid, all he’d wanted was out of the wet, but after a while spent at Camp Pendleton near San Diego, he’d found the lack of defined seasons oddly disconcerting. It messed with his sense of time passing. And when he’d finally come home, he’d welcomed the shift from summer to fall and winter to spring in a way he never had before.

You never miss it until you lose it.

Terri’s voice echoed in his head as the pain jabbed at his gut. He steeled himself against it with the ease of long and frequent practice. The past had been nagging him lately, in all its various ghostly forms. That was usually a signal he’d been living too much in his head, and the cure was something hard, physical and exhausting. Maybe he’d borrow Cutter for a long, mostly uphill run.

“Crazy dog,” he muttered, but he was smiling. The uncannily clever beast had quickly gone from being the pet of his boss’s fiancée to being an amazingly useful member of the team.

He hesitated for a moment, looking at the small coffee place next door to the groomer’s. Another sure seasonal sign; they were putting up the sign for a string of pumpkin spice items. Tempting. He had a silly weakness for them. Maybe he’d pick up a latte and grab a muffin to share with Cutter, who seemed to have an affinity for the particular flavor as well. That would, if nothing else, guilt him into taking that long, hard run.

After, he decided. He continued toward the groomer’s, smiling at the image of a floppy-eared dog in a tub of suds painted on the window.

A bell rang as he pulled open the door of the small shop. A humming sound from the back halted just as he stepped inside, and a split second later he heard a woof of greeting come from the back. He couldn’t see the dog, but obviously Cutter knew he was here.

“Almost done, be right out.”

The female voice calling from the room at the back was low, even husky, but there was another note in it that made his brows furrow. An unsteadiness or something that was noticeable. He shrugged it off; it wasn’t his business. Maybe she had a cold. Or maybe the mess Cutter had gotten into—Hayley, said fiancée and the dog’s first chosen person, had said he was mud and muck from nose to plumy tale—had required some heavy-duty cleaners, although the only thing he could smell was a faint scent of something that reminded him of cough drops. Eucalyptus or something.

The humming began anew, and he realized it was a hair dryer of some sort. The image that brought on made him smile, but he had to admit Cutter had enough long, thick fur that it would probably take him hours to dry without the electronic assist.

He wandered as he waited, feeling a bit out of place here amid the displays of dog stuff. He’d had no idea there were so many different kinds of food and supplements. The toys were more familiar, and a couple made him smile; one designed as a fire hydrant actually made him chuckle. He noticed, here and there, more pictures like the one painted on the front window, featuring the same dog, with various expressions from mournful—over the diet foods, he noticed with a grin—to silly. Whoever the artist was, he or she had a great imagination, and clearly a good sense of humor.

He walked toward a few pictures he saw on a side wall. Photos from local 5K and 10K charity runs, in which the shop had apparently participated or sponsored a team. Community involvement. He looked at the people in the shots, wondered if the owner was one of them.

He stopped in front of a rack of colorful collars and leashes, each one sporting a fabric pattern of varying designs and degrees of whimsy. He picked up one with fire hydrants on it, and again chuckled. Bark Boutique, the tag said, with a website of the same name. He wondered if they did custom work. A collar with alternating doggie angels and imps would be more in order for the irrepressible Cutter.

On that thought, the dog appeared in the back of the store. Tail up and newly fluffed, he trotted toward Teague sporting his usual attentive expression. With gleaming black fur from his nose to well back over his shoulders, where the thick coat shifted gradually to a rich, reddish brown, and upright, alert ears, he was, Teague admitted, a beautiful animal. But it was the gold-flecked amber eyes and the uncanny intelligence behind them that was his most striking feature. And Teague had quickly learned the intensity in that gaze wasn’t effective just on sheep.

“Hey, boy,” he said when the dog reached him and sat expectantly at his feet. “Don’t you look all spit-and-polish.”

He reached down to deliver the anticipated scratch behind the dog’s right ear. He remembered that Hayley had told him how impressed she’d been when she’d brought Cutter here the first time, and the owner had carefully researched his breed to learn the proper way to groom him.

“At least, the breed he looks like,” Hayley had added with a laugh. It was of no concern at all to her that nobody knew for sure the ancestry of her fey lost waif. “I want to see her make a go of it. I like that she donates groomings to shelter animals, so they can look their best at adoption days.”

Teague liked that himself.

“You’re Teague?”

The woman called from the doorway to what was apparently the grooming room. Her voice was steady now, whatever he’d heard before gone.

“Teague Johnson,” he agreed as the woman approached. She was tall, maybe two or three inches shorter than his own five-eleven, he thought, attractive in an outdoor, bet-she-could-keep-up-with-you-on-that-run kind of way. Participant, not just sponsor, he guessed, thinking of the run pictures. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a jaunty ponytail he supposed was practical for her work, but also fit with her long-legged grace. She wore scrubs, the damp spots showing that was for practicality as well.

“Hayley called?”

She shook her head. “Quinn, actually.”

That his boss had made the call himself didn’t surprise him; Quinn never considered much of anything in the way of work beneath him. It was one of the many reasons he was so effective. Not to mention that he was stark, raving crazy about Hayley and would lay down and die for her if necessary. Teague envied him that. If it wasn’t so clear the feeling was mutual he might envy him Hayley as well; she was a remarkable woman. The kind Teague had begun to think didn’t really exist.

“I’m Laney Adams,” she said, and held out a hand as she came to a halt before him. He took it, firmly but not crushingly. Shaking hands with a woman was always tricky, or seemed so to him. Too strong and they winced, too easy and some seemed to get offended. Laney did neither, she just met his grip and released after a solid shake.

And didn’t seem to feel at all the jolt of awareness that had gone through him at the contact.

He quickly shook it off. Hadn’t rained much yet, so it was probably just some residual charge of static electricity.

Cutter rose and went to stand beside her, nuzzling the hand he’d just shaken in the way usually reserved for cheering humans up; obviously the dog liked and trusted this woman, and Teague had learned to trust the dog’s judgment about people.

“You work with Hayley?” she asked.

Teague nodded in answer to her question. And couldn’t help noticing the woman’s eyes and nose were slightly reddened.

“Dog soap get to you?”

Startled, she swiped at her eyes. “I... No. It’s fine.” She looked away, then down. “I’m sorry, I forgot his collar and tag. I’ll go get it.”

She turned on her heel and left quickly. To his surprise, Cutter followed her, although he wouldn’t put it past the dog to have understood about the collar.

He barely had time to appreciate the way she moved when it all tumbled together in his head. Red eyes and nose, that undertone in her voice, and the way Cutter had been nosing at her hand...

It wasn’t soap. She’d been crying. Unease spiked through him. Female tears unnerved him, like most guys. They made him start looking for something to fix, to make it better, and too often there wasn’t anything.

He heard the slight clink of the boat-shaped tag as the now-dressed Cutter approached. According to Hayley, he’d shown up on her doorstep with only that tag, engraved with his name, for identification. All her efforts to find his owner had failed, and in the meantime Cutter had settled in and begun to work his special kind of magic on her grief-torn heart.

And now he seemed glued to Laney Adams. When she stopped again, Cutter stayed pressed against her leg. He nuzzled her hand again, and the woman petted his head as if instinctively.

Cutter looked up, his gaze fastened on Teague. He stifled the urge to read “Well? Fix it!” into the dog’s expression, knowing it had to be arising out of his own earlier thoughts.

But there was no denying the intensity of the dog’s steady, unwavering gaze. And in the relatively short time since Cutter had come to Foxworth, they had all learned it was wise not to ignore the determined dog when he got “that look.”

He didn’t want to ask, but did anyway. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You were crying.”

He was a little surprised when she didn’t deny it, but simply acknowledged it this time.

“Some women can cry beautifully.” She shrugged. “I’m obviously not one of them.”

He admired her blunt honesty, but felt awkward. He didn’t even know this woman. But Hayley did, she’d said she really liked her, maybe that was why. Friend of a friend in need or something.

He opened his mouth to ask “Are you all right?” then shut it again. Obviously she wasn’t all right, or she wouldn’t have been crying. Feeling a bit proud of himself for having avoided a stupid question, he felt even better when she leaned down to scratch Cutter’s ear briskly.

“I’ll see you next time, you lovely boy,” she said.

There, another bullet dodged, Teague thought.

“Let’s go, dog,” he said.

Cutter didn’t move.

“Hayley’s waiting,” Teague said.

Cutter’s tail wagged, and he gave the softer version of the happy bark he always greeted Hayley with in reaction to the sound of her name. But he didn’t move from Laney’s side. And again he gave Teague that look, that compelling gaze that he had no doubt could drive those sheep right off a cliff if that’s what the dog intended. Not that he ever would. No, Cutter was a softie, always seeming to find the walking wounded, the ones who needed help.

Often, the ones that needed Foxworth-style help.

Cutter gave a short, sharp yip of impatience. Teague drew back slightly. He did not like how this was shaping up.

With a long-suffering sigh, Cutter finally left Laney’s side. Teague let out a long breath of relief. He’d been afraid there for a minute that—

His thoughts were interrupted when the dog, instead of heading for the door, walked behind him and bumped—hard—against the back of his legs. Pushing him rather awkwardly toward Laney.

“Uh-oh.”

The muttered phrase escaped Teague before he could stop it.

“Something wrong?” Laney asked. “Hayley already paid the bill, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I only wish it was that simple,” Teague said, staring down at Cutter, who seemed to realize he’d finally gotten the message. The dog walked back to Laney, sat this time, and looked back at Teague expectantly.

“He seems restless,” she said. “He’s usually pretty laid-back with me.”

Teague looked back at her. Her eyes were the color of cinnamon, he thought. He hadn’t noticed that before.

“Laid-back? I’d have to see that to believe it,” Teague said wryly. Then, with a smothered sigh, he gave in to the inevitable. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing.” She had herself together now, and clearly wasn’t inclined to discuss whatever had been bothering her with a total stranger. He appreciated that, understood it, and normally would have let it end there.

Except that when Cutter got involved, normal wasn’t a word that got used very often.

Chapter 2

Laney inwardly steadied herself. It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. Not sharing personal pain with a total stranger wasn’t lying. Maybe denying anything was wrong was, but not pouring out her heart to a man she’d never met before was simply reasonable. Even if she was disposed to see him favorably because he worked with Hayley, whom she’d very quickly come to like a great deal.

Now, Hayley’s fiancé, Quinn, was a man she’d found more than a little intimidating the one time she’d met him. But not this man, she thought. In fact, the easy smile, and the way he’d seemed so relieved when she’d refused to talk about the reason for her tears, made him seem much more approachable than his boss.

Not that he wasn’t as attractive, just in a different way. He was a bit taller than she, enough to be appreciated given her own height of five-eight. He looked lean, fit and strong. His eyes were a light, clear blue, and went well with his sandy-brown hair. And besides the nice smile, he had an easy confidence she found appealing. She even liked his haircut, buzzed close on the sides, slightly longer on the top. Ex-military? she wondered. Navy was her first thought, this being a navy region, but army and air force bases weren’t far, either.

Cutter nudged her hand again, stopping her musing and making her wonder how long she’d been standing there staring at him.

“See, he knows it’s not ‘nothing,’” Teague said.

It took her a moment to backtrack in her mind, she’d been so lost in her contemplation of the man before her. That was unlike her, and only added to her unsettled state.

“No,” she admitted, “it’s not. It’s just not something you need to hear.” She reached down to stroke Cutter’s head once more. “See you next time, Cutter. Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.”

She turned to head back to her office. And had to stop when Cutter darted in front of her, blocking her path. Startled, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, I’m flattered, sweet boy, but your mom’s probably missing you by now. You’d better go.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Teague said.

Laney whirled around. In her state of mind, the words almost sounded ominous. But the man’s expression was so glum and resigned any thought of being in danger from him vanished quickly. She wasn’t sure what this man did—wasn’t sure exactly what Foxworth did, for that matter—but she was sure he wasn’t a threat.

You thought that about Edward, too, she reminded herself, the thoughts flooding back, a painful contrast to the pleasant diversion of contemplating an attractive man. You thought he was harmless, safe to recommend to your best friend.

“Don’t let me see an expression like that and then try to convince me that nothing’s wrong,” Teague said quietly. “I may not be as smart as Cutter, but I’m not blind.”

She managed a laugh at the joke.

“I mean it. He knows when people are in trouble.”

“I’m not in trouble.” That much, at least, was true. She wasn’t the one in trouble. She was just to blame for it.

Cutter sighed audibly. This time he got up and walked behind Laney, leaned into the back of her legs the same way he’d done to Teague moments ago, an action that had amused and puzzled her. The dog was, she noted, more gentle with her.

She heard a wry chuckle from Teague and her gaze shot to his face.

“Guess he figures I’m more stubborn or more stupid, so he has to push harder,” he said, his tone matching his expression.

In spite of her worry, she smiled; she couldn’t help it.

“Look, I know this sounds crazy, but he really does know. When people have a problem, I mean.”

“I believe it. He’s a very perceptive animal. More than any I’ve ever known and I’ve known a few.”

He seemed relieved that she accepted it. “It’s even more than that. He... It’s hard to explain. He’s like a mind reader, a strategist and an early warning system all in one. He’s one of our team now, and we’ve all come to trust him, rely on him even.”

His praise of her favorite client warmed her; people who loved and respected dogs went quickly to the friend column in her book. One who realized how special Cutter was started near the top. But it was the phrase “early warning system” that made her blink.

“What exactly is it that the Foxworth Foundation does?”

“Hayley hasn’t told you?”

“She said they help people. I assumed they were some sort of charitable operation.”

“They are, when they need to be.” He seemed to hesitate, then asked, “Do you have another appointment?”

“Just with my bookkeeping program.”

He glanced at his watch, a heavy, military-looking thing with more dials than she could conceive of needing. Then he looked back at her.

“I was about to go get him a pumpkin muffin next door.”

She smiled. “He likes pumpkin muffins?”

“I think he’d bite for one. But only the pumpkin. Hayley brings an assorted box in now and then, and that’s the only one he wants.”

Laney laughed. It felt good after the morning’s grim thoughts.

“Join us for a cup of coffee.” He smiled crookedly, in a sheepish way that warmed her. “Or one of those pumpkin latte things. My weakness.”

That he could admit a liking for the flavored, frothy drink without feeling his manhood threatened was more reason to like him. And she liked his easy humor about it, too. He was racking up points quickly.

And you, she told herself firmly, are not keeping score. You have enough to deal with.

But she found herself saying yes anyway. After all, what harm could there be in sitting in a public place with him? She’d have to be wrong not only about him, but about Hayley, Quinn and Cutter for it to be a problem.

She knew she wasn’t wrong about Cutter.

She trusted Cutter wasn’t wrong about Teague Johnson.

* * *

Teague took another sip of the latte. It was probably a good thing they only did this seasonally, he thought, or he’d be twenty pounds overweight, or having to add five miles a day to his runs, which were already long enough.

Cutter, muffin happily consumed, had found the one spot of sunshine near the outside table and plopped down for a snooze. Now that they were talking, the dog had that mission-accomplished sort of air that Teague had learned to recognize.

“Now that’s the Cutter I know,” Laney said.

“He only seems to know two speeds,” Teague said, indicating the dog with his cup, “that, and full tilt.”

“Maybe the latter requires the former,” Laney said.

Teague smiled. And not for the first time since they’d sat down here, he felt the urge to just forget what had brought them here, to simply sit here and enjoy a few minutes with an attractive woman, without the undercurrent.

But if it wasn’t for that undercurrent, they wouldn’t be here. It wasn’t like he asked every appealing woman he ran into out for coffee. In fact, he hadn’t asked a woman out for coffee, dinner or anything else in a long time. A very long time.

“Problem with your drink?”

Her quiet question made him realize he’d been frowning. “No.” He seized on his earlier thought, since he wasn’t about to open the door on his pitiful social life. “Just thinking it’s good this is only available now.”

She smiled. “It might not be so appealing on a hot summer day.”

“Did you really use the words ‘hot summer’ while sitting here in the Pacific Northwest?”

She laughed. It was a wonderful sound, and he wondered why she didn’t do it more. Then remembered that the reason was probably why they were sitting here in the first place.

“It does happen,” she said. “A couple of years ago we nearly set a record.”

“A record heat wave here is a cold snap elsewhere,” he said; he was willing to let the chat about the weather continue, if that’s what she needed to ease into the real subject. Or maybe she’d flat-out refuse to talk about it, and he could walk away knowing he’d at least tried. Guilt-free.

“Like where you’re from?” she suggested.

He gave a one-shouldered shrug of assent. “Where I’ve spent time,” he acknowledged, and left it at that. This was not the time to speak of distant lands of heat and burning sun and sand. “But I was born in Seattle, grew up over there.” Time to do a little steering of this conversation. “You?”

“I was born in Phoenix,” she said. “But we moved here when I was two, so I practically feel like a native.”

“Family?”

“They’ve retired back to Arizona,” she said. “Dad’s building dune buggies and mom’s taking skydiving lessons.”

He blinked at that one. She apparently came by the athletic bent honestly. Laney laughed again.

“You slow down, you die. That’s Dad’s motto.”

“He’s got a point,” Teague said.

She seemed relaxed now, smiling. “I miss them, but they’re having so much fun, and they worked so hard for so long, I can’t help but be happy for them.”

“What about you? How’d you end up doing this?” he asked, indicating her shop.

“I wanted to be a vet, even started school. I wanted to help animals, but I just couldn’t deal with seeing so many sick and in pain. I had to find another way to work with them.”

“And you did.”

“It’s not as important, but it’s what I can do.”

“I’ll bet the dogs who get adopted after you spruce them up think it’s pretty important.”

She looked startled, then smiled. “Hayley told you.”

“She mentioned it, yes. She admires you for it.”

“It’s what I can do,” she said again. And he liked the quiet way she said it. If everybody took that approach, we’d all be better off. He watched her for a moment.

Now, he thought. “So what is it you’re upset or worried about?”

It didn’t quite have the effect of a glass of cold water tossed at her, but it was close, and he wished he hadn’t had to do it. He realized with a little shock how much he’d been enjoying simply talking with her. Simply sitting and talking with an attractive woman was a pleasure he’d not had in too long.

“I’m not...”

Her voice trailed away. He felt a twinge of disappointment at the denial after she’d been so honest about the crying.

She tried again. “I’m not sure I should talk about it.”

Well, that was better. At least she wasn’t denying that “it” existed.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not my problem, it’s someone else’s. Maybe. Or maybe it’s not a problem at all. Except in my own overactive imagination. Everything could be fine. Could be wonderful, in fact. But I have this gut feeling there is something really wrong. But everyone else thinks I’m the one who’s wrong. So I just don’t know anymore.”

Teague felt like a guy who’d just had a jigsaw puzzle dumped at his feet, all the pieces scrambled, and he was supposed to make sense of it.

Laney laughed, as if she’d just realized how what she’d said sounded. But it was a different sort of a laugh, not charming and fun, but self-deprecating and on the edge of some deeper, darker emotion. But it cemented Teague’s notion that this was not a woman who cried at the drop of a hat, making the times when she did significant.

“I’m sorry. That didn’t make much sense, did it? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Or say it all,” Teague said. “Whose problem is it, maybe?”

Her mouth twitched into almost a smile at his use of her own words back at her. But still she hesitated. This time he stayed silent, just looking at her, which was no hardship. She stared down into her cup, and Teague noticed the length and thickness of her eyelashes, the delicate arch of her brow, the length of her neck revealed by the pulled-back hair. Her fingers, wrapped around the cup now as if she needed its warmth even on this relatively mild day, were long and slender, tipped with nails cut short; no fancy manicures for this woman who dealt with washing animals every day.

Crazy, he thought. The most common complaint about women he’d heard from his buddies in the corps was that they never stopped talking. And here he couldn’t get this one to start. Whether that was a reflection on her, or himself, he wasn’t sure.

He was contemplating pressing harder when Cutter intervened. As if he’d sensed the lull in the conversation was a problem, the dog had roused from his nap in the sun. He looked at them both consideringly, then got to his feet and padded quietly over to Laney. He rested his chin on her knee and looked up at her. In a move that seemed and probably was automatic, Laney began to stroke his dark head.

“You are so warm from the sun,” she said to him. “That must feel good.”

The dog stared at her until she gave an odd little shake of her head. Teague knew just how she felt. He’d been on the receiving end of that steady gaze himself, and he knew the odd feeling it gave you.

“You might as well tell me,” he said after a final taste of the flavorful drink. “He’s not going to let go until you do.”

“Is that what you think he’s doing? Trying to compel me?”

“I know it is. I’ve seen him do it too many times. He’s done it to me.”

“Giving him a bit too much credit, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be too sure of that,” Teague said wryly. “My boss is the biggest skeptic on the planet, save maybe one—well, two—and even he thinks there’s something uncanny about that dog.”

“I can’t deny he’s clever—”

“Oh, it goes way beyond clever. I could tell you stories,” Teague said. “But I promise you, he’s not going away until you talk about what’s bothering you.”

She looked from him to Cutter, then back.

“I know you don’t know me, not enough to trust me. But you can trust him.”

“I know.”

“So talk to me. You need to talk to somebody.” When she still didn’t answer, he leaned back in his chair. “I could call Hayley. Would you talk to her?”

“Oh, don’t do that. I know she’s busy, or she would have come for him herself.”

“Yes. But she trusts me with him.”

Her head came up then, and he sensed he’d finally hit the right words. “Yes,” she said softly, “she does.”

Again he stayed silent, thinking that pushing harder at this instant would be the wrong thing to do. He’d learned from Cutter that sometimes the best thing to do was just stare them down and wait.

“It’s my best friend,” Laney finally said in a rush, and before he processed the words Teague allowed himself a split second of satisfaction. “Amber. Amber Logan.”

“Pretty name.”

“Yes. And it fits her.” She gestured back toward the shop. “She’s a graphic artist. She did the paintings here.”

“I noticed those. Cute. She’s good.”

“Yes. She is.” He saw her mouth tighten slightly.

“Has she done something?” he asked. “Gotten in trouble?”

“I think...” Her voice trailed off. She drew in a deep breath and started again. “The police don’t believe it, even her folks don’t believe it, but I can’t shake the feeling something’s very, very wrong.”

The police? That kicked it into an entirely different category in Teague’s mind. He leaned forward, sensing she was on the verge of either blurting it out or withdrawing altogether.

“Wrong how?”

She met his gaze, held it. She was committed now, he could feel it.

“I think she’s been abducted.”

Chapter 3

Relief was obvious on Laney’s face as the words finally came out. She looked as if having someone listen to her without that doubt in their eyes, without that expression that told her they were merely humoring her and couldn’t wait to move on, was nearly overwhelming.

She proved his guess right with her next words, spoken fervently.

“You don’t know how much time I’ve spent every day trying to make myself believe that they’re all right, that there’s nothing wrong, that Amber’s just fine and I’m being silly, with an overactive imagination.”

She also looked as if she wanted to hug him. Not something he’d particularly mind, but he wasn’t about to stray into that minefield. Not now, anyway.

“Why don’t you just tell me? Don’t worry about how it sounds, just get it all out there. Then we’ll sort it out.”

Gratitude supplanted relief on her face. She nodded, a short, sharp motion that spoke worlds about what she was feeling. Even if it really was nothing, she needed to get this out.

She continued to pet Cutter, as if she welcomed the distraction. He could almost see her turning over in her mind where to start. He opened his mouth to prod her along, then stopped; he didn’t want to sound like the police who hadn’t believed her, but coplike questions were the first thing that came to mind.

He remembered Terri once telling him she had to work up to the real problem sometimes. And you were a lot of help when she needed you, weren’t you, halfway around the world fighting for people who didn’t even want—

He broke off his own thoughts before they galloped down that old path. And grabbed the first neutral question he could think of.

“Tell me about Amber.”

“We’ve been best friends since third grade. I know her like a sister. And love her like one.”

“Is that where you met? School?” he asked.

“Yes. Ms. Waters’s class. Meanest teacher in school.” Laney looked up at him then, gave him a fleeting smile. “I don’t mean hard, or strict. I mean...mean. And Amber and I, we bonded together in surviving her.”

Now that was something he understood. “Easier to handle stuff like that if you’re not alone.”

The smile was better this time as she nodded. “We had secret meetings where we plotted her absence in various ways, from changing the number on the door of the classroom, to the address on the school. At eight, logic didn’t enter into it much.”

He smiled back. “No GPS in cars yet, so who knows?”

She laughed then, and he felt oddly pleased.

“We were best friends from the day Ms. Waters sent us to the principal’s office for passing notes. Which weren’t even about her, by the way.”

Teague’s mouth quirked. “Why do I get the feeling that that part was pure luck?”

She looked startled, then laughed again. And he got that same little jolt of pleasure out of it. Natural, he thought. She’d been crying when he’d arrived, and he’d managed not to make it worse, maybe even a little better. Something any guy would be happy about.

“But the point is, we were inseparable after that. We shared everything. We poured our hearts out to each other. When I had my first crush on a boy, she was the one I told. When her mom got sick, I was the first to know. She’s the sister I never had.”

“A long time ago, my father used to say there’s two kinds of families—the one you’re born into, and the one you build yourself.”

“Your dad sounds wise.”

“At one time, he had his moments.” He knew he sounded a little odd, but went on easily enough. “He also used to say that’s not something you can pass down to your kids. You have to earn your own wisdom. Usually the hard way.” Too bad he forgot his own lessons, Teague thought.

Laney grimaced at the words. Thinking of Amber, Teague guessed. It was time for those cop questions. He certainly wasn’t about to keep discussing his own family; that was not a topic he lingered on. Ever.

As if he was finally sure things were progressing properly, Cutter lay down. But for insurance, he put his head on Laney’s foot. She seemed to take it as a sign the time for idle chatter was over. Teague saw her take in a deep breath, then let it out slowly.

“When did you last talk to her?” he asked.

“It’ll be four weeks on Friday.”

“That’s a long time, for friends as close as you are.”

He didn’t say ‘female friends,’ although he at least knew enough to realize there was a difference. Girls seemed to always want to be in touch, whereas with a guy he could go for weeks, even months without any contact, and then run into him and it would be like nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong. But a woman tended to take offense at that kind of benign neglect. At least, that had been his sad experience.

“That,” she said firmly, “is unheard of. For us. We talked or texted every day. Usually multiple times a day.”

“Wow.”

He couldn’t imagine that. It had boggled him when Quinn and Hayley had come out of that mess so tightly connected they did the same; neither of them was happy if they went longer than a few hours without contact of some kind. He teased his boss about it, but beneath the joking was a thread of wonder. He’d never felt that way about anyone.

“Now she’s blocked incoming calls,” Laney said. “I had another friend try, and my mother. Even the police officer tried, I’ll give her that, and she was blocked, so it’s all incoming calls, not just me.”

“Hmm.” It was the most noncommittal sound Teague could manage.

“Look, I know how it sounds. I even understand why the police feel the way they do. On the surface, it looks simple. Woman meets a new man, they hit it off in a big way, then head out on a romantic getaway. They want to be undisturbed, so woman blocks incoming calls on her phone.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No. She just wouldn’t, not without telling me. In fact, she’d call me and giggle about it for an hour first. And then there’s the texts.”

“Texts?”

“The ones that came after my calls were blocked.”

His brow furrowed. “So you have heard from her? Via text?”

She sighed. “Yes. And no.”

He leaned back. “I think maybe you’d better explain that one.”

“I’ve gotten texts sent from her phone. But they’re...off.”

“Off how?”

“They just don’t sound like her.”

“The wording or what she’s saying?”

“Yes. And there are mistakes. Things that are just flat-out wrong.”

He tapped the side of his now-empty cup with his index finger. “All right. Could she have lost her phone, had it stolen?”

“She would have a replacement by now. Amber wouldn’t go from the living room to the kitchen without a phone. And besides, she missed our get-together yesterday, without even a call to cancel. She would never, ever do that. All of this is completely out of character for her.”

Which probably explained the tears today, Teague thought.

“I remember my sister telling me about girls who blow off their friends when a new guy comes along,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Amber’s not one of them. Nor am I. We always hated that, swore it would never happen, and it never did.”

She was so adamant he decided to leave that one alone. “So she would have told you if she was going to run off with this guy she just happened to meet.”

Laney went a little pale. Cutter’s head came up, so Teague knew he wasn’t imagining her sudden tension.

“She didn’t just happen to meet him.” He saw moisture gathering in her eyes, saw her visibly fighting the tears. “I introduced them. This is my fault.”

“Whoa. Slow down. You knew this guy?”

She nodded. “Slightly. I knew him from my old job, where I learned, over in Lynnwood.”

“A bit of a drive, from the U-District.”

“My boss specialized in pocket dogs,” Laney said. “People came from farther than that.”

He smiled at the term, but said only, “Go on.”

“So, Edward, he’d even asked me out a couple of times. But I wasn’t attracted, and I was too busy with plans for this shop.”

“And?”

“Last month Amber and I went to the mall there. She loved to shop. Edward was there with a friend, we ran into him. I introduced them. She seemed interested, and so did he, she’d just broken up with a guy and was kind of down, so I told her she should go, he was a nice guy.” She blinked again, more rapidly this time. “I told her she should go, damn it. I practically set her up on a blind date with this guy, and now—”

“Easy.” Instinctively he reached across the table and put his hand over hers. “You didn’t know.”

Not that he was sure anything was wrong himself, not really. He needed to know more about what had triggered her worry.

“Tell me about the texts you felt were off. Did you answer?”

“Yes. But she never responded. Which isn’t like her, either.”

“What if you initiate a text?”

She shook her head. “I either get no reply, or if I do, it doesn’t really answer what I said.”

“Example?”

“I ask where she is, she says she’s fine. I ask when she’s coming back, she says she’s having a great time.”

Which could, Teague thought, be answers. Just not the ones Laney wanted or expected.

“You showed them to the police?”

She grimaced again as she nodded. “They thought it was just drunk texting. I know better.”

“Because?”

She reached into the low front pocket of her shirt—when had scrubs become somehow sexy? he wondered—and pulled out a phone. She tapped it a few times, then held it out to him. “This is the first one I got.”

He took it and read the message.

Take care of Pepper 4me, pls? He’s such a gd dog. Thx

“Seems innocuous enough,” Teague said neutrally.

“Yes. Except for three things.”

“Three?”

“Pepper? A cat. And a she.” She took a deep breath. “And she’s been dead for ten years.”

Chapter 4

“Amber has never been that drunk in her entire life,” Laney said firmly. “Pepper was her pet for eighteen years, from childhood, and she adored her. She cried for months when she died.”

It wasn’t much to go on. But even Teague had to admit that three such mistakes in a text message fifty characters long was a bit much. Even drunk on her ass, would Amber have forgotten Pepper was a cat not a dog, a she not a he, and that she had died a decade ago?

Teague glanced down at Cutter, still ensconced on the floor with his head on Laney’s foot, as if to hold her there until the story was out. He tried to imagine, even drunk, ever forgetting about the dog.

Nope. Impossible. And he’s not even my dog.

“Are there more?” he asked.

She nodded. “None as obviously wrong as that one, but some. Read through them. I cleared out all the non-Amber ones.”

He wondered for a moment if there had been some from a boyfriend. But she had said she hadn’t been attracted to this Edward, implying if she had been, perhaps she might not have said no. So there couldn’t be a boyfriend. Unless she was the juggling type. He didn’t think so. If nothing else, he suspected she didn’t have time.

And none of that was in the slightest bit relevant, he reminded himself.

He focused on the series of texts. Most seemed innocuous to him, something about being late for the office and catching up later, one about wanting to buy a new car, and a final one about jetting off to Canada. Nothing jumped out at him, but then nothing would have about the first one, either.

He didn’t have to ask. The moment he looked up, Laney ran through a list. “Except for days when she meets with clients, Amber works from home. She bought a new car late last year, and the process exhausted her so much she plans on keeping it at least ten years. And she absolutely hates to fly. Canada’s way too close to get her on an airplane.”

“You told the police all this?”

“Yes.” She let out a compressed breath. “Their answer was people newly in love do things they might not otherwise. And I can’t argue with that. Especially Amber. She’s always...impulsive, especially with men. More than me, anyway.”

Teague filed that self-observation from Laney away in the “might be good to remember” slot in his mind. Even as he did it, he silently chastised himself; he needed to be paying attention, not...whatever he was doing.

She lowered her gaze to the painted surface of the small, round table. There was something scratched into the surface, something Teague couldn’t read upside down because of the angular shape and unevenness of the letters. A name, perhaps. Carved by somebody as infatuated as Laney said Amber got?

“It’s my fault,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was even glad when he seemed even more interested in Amber than he had been in me, after I’d said no all those times.”

“Laney—”

She picked at the scratched name with a thumbnail. “I told her to go. That he seemed like a nice guy.”

“Did you lie? Did you really think he was a bad guy?”

Her head snapped up. “No! I would never—”

She cut herself off, giving a short, abrupt shake of her head.

“I brought them together. She never would have met him if not for me. I still feel responsible. Maybe that doesn’t make sense, but...”

Teague stared at her for a long, silent moment, fighting down the memories that battered at him. “I get it. Believe me, I get it.”

When he refocused, Laney was staring at him. “You do, don’t you.” The way she said it wasn’t a question. “You lost somebody, didn’t you?”

“My sister. Years ago.” And yesterday. “But Amber is now. Let’s stay there.”

For a moment he thought she might persist. And he wasn’t about to talk about Terri. He’d talked to no one about her in a very long time, except Quinn, and then only because he’d known he had to be thoroughly honest during the long vetting process for going to work at Foxworth.

As if Teague just thinking the name Foxworth had roused him, Cutter got up. He turned from Laney to look up at him. When he was certain he had Teague’s attention, he walked toward where his car was parked. After a few steps he stopped and looked back over his shoulder at both of them.

Teague sighed.

“I guess he’s finally bored and ready to go,” Laney said. She stood up. “Thanks for listening to my...conspiracy theory.”

Teague slowly rose as well, but said nothing. He had a theory of his own about Cutter’s sudden movement. A year ago he would have laughed at the idea, but after seeing the dog in action for months now, he knew better.

“Maybe I’ll see you again, if he keeps getting into messes,” she said with a creditable attempt at cheerfulness.

Cutter yipped. Short, sharp and to the point. Laney smiled. “Now he’s impatient. You’d better go.”

“I’ll try,” Teague said. “I think he’s got other ideas.”

Her forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“Wait and see.”

He started to follow Cutter back toward his car. The dark gray SUV was parked about twenty feet away. He made it five before Cutter reacted.

Tail up, ears alert, the dog turned back. He trotted toward him, then right past him, just as Teague had expected. He stopped in front of a surprised Laney, nudged her hand, then tried the walk and look back routine again.

“What is he doing?” she asked.

“I think,” Teague said with a wry quirk of his mouth, “he’s saying it’s time for us to go tell your story to Foxworth.”

* * *

This was, without a doubt, the craziest thing she’d ever seen.

She loved dogs, she’d worked with them for years now, but she’d never seen one act like Cutter before. Except maybe in movies or on TV, where the animal did what it was trained to do, no more thought process behind it than a willingness and a need to please.

But this, this was all Cutter’s doing, born out of his obviously uncanny canine brain. He had a Plan, Teague had said, and woe be unto the human who didn’t get that.

She liked him for that, Laney thought. One of the many things she could like him for; he was a good listener, he didn’t laugh at her or make her feel as if she were being silly, to be humored, sent on her way and then forgotten.

Of course, there were the blue eyes, the lean, strong build, the air of quiet confidence, the easy grace and that smile...oh, yes, that smile.

She tried to shake off the feeling that was growing. She had no time for this. She needed to focus on Amber, on finding her, even if she had to do it alone.

But Teague was saying she might not have to do it alone.

“I can’t promise anything, except that they’ll listen. And take you seriously.”

Her first instinct was to doubt that. But Teague had done just that, hadn’t he? He would hardly take her to his boss if he didn’t think there was something to her suspicions, would he?

“I can’t afford to hire anyone.”

“If Foxworth takes it on, it won’t cost you.”

“So Foxworth is a charity?”

“It is, in some ways. In other ways, it’s something completely different. Come on, lock up and I’ll explain on the way.”

“But—”

He gestured at Cutter, who was pacing now, from where they stood outside her shop to Teague’s car and back. “You might as well give in, because he’s not going to give up.”

“So you’re saying you’re letting a dog boss you around?”

He grinned suddenly. It took her breath away. “Yep.”

She found herself grinning back, unable to stop it.

She went back into the shop, Cutter on her heels. He truly wasn’t going to let up until she followed him. She went into the small bathroom and quickly switched her scrubs for the jeans and lightweight cabled sweater she’d worn in this morning, grabbed up her keys and her slouchy bag and headed back out. She flipped the Open sign to Closed and locked the front door.

Cutter was clearly happier now, and she followed him back to where Teague was waiting. The SUV obediently chirped twice as Teague unlocked it and he opened the passenger door for her, the door behind it for Cutter, who leaped in then turned on the seat to look at her expectantly. She was nearly laughing as she got in.

Teague walked around and slid into the driver’s seat. Cutter let out a soft, clearly happy woof.

“You got what you wanted,” Teague said to the dog. “Way back.”

Without hesitation the dog jumped over the back of the seats into the cargo area of the SUV.

“Safer for him back there,” Teague said as he turned the key.

“This is insane,” she said as she fastened her seat belt.

“Yep.”

“He’s a dog.”

“Maybe.”

Laney laughed out loud. The relief of having someone actually listen to her worries must have made her giddy.

“Foxworth,” she began.

“Is the most amazing place, full of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“A little bit of everything,” Teague said. “But it’s all aimed at one single goal.”

“Which is?”

He glanced at her as they were caught by a light turning red, the newest of the three signals in the small town. He’d pulled into the left turn lane, heading away from the main road toward the next, bigger town.

“Helping people in the right, when they have nowhere else to turn.”

She blinked. “That’s...quite a goal.”

“We do what should be done but isn’t, for whatever reason.”

“You must have hoards pounding on your doors,” she said wryly.

“We work only on referral,” he said. “We don’t advertise.”

“Then how did you find them?”

His mouth quirked upward at one corner, as if he liked the question. “I didn’t. They found me. There was this online military forum, and some of us got into some pretty heavy discussions. I used to post a lot. Turns out it was monitored by Foxworth, and they noticed. Thought I might be a good fit.”

So she’d been right about the military air. But she thought she heard something else in his voice as well. “You miss it,” she said.

“I do. I was a marine,” he said, as if that answered all. Perhaps, to him, it did. “The corps was the greatest fighting force in the world.”

She wasn’t sure what the past tense referred to, but there was a finality in his voice that kept her from asking. Or asking why he’d left, if he loved it so much.

“So Foxworth, what, recruited you?”

He shrugged. “It was pretty clear I wasn’t happy with the way things were going. I wasn’t re-upping, anyway. I didn’t know what I would do. They gave me an alternative.”

“So now you work for Quinn?”

“Yes. And Foxworth is a private foundation, so the only limits on what we can do are our own.”

“And now you sound very...proprietary.”

He gave her a sideways glance, and she saw that grin flash across his face again. It had the same effect it had had before. He answered as the light finally changed and they made the left turn.

“Yeah, I guess I am. We do good work. I’m proud to be part of it.”

She liked that. So many people just griped about their jobs all the time. “How long have you been there?”

“I’m the new guy. Only two years—three if you count the vetting process—but I’m there as long as they’ll have me.”

She drew back slightly. “A vetting that lasts an entire year?”

He nodded. “Quinn and Charlie Foxworth are very, very particular.”

“They run the foundation?”

He nodded as they slowed for a truckload of topsoil pulling out of a side driveway. “It’s a family thing. Quinn’s idea, mostly, but Charlie makes it possible.” He grinned again. “It’s nice to have a financial and logistical genius in the family, I guess.”

“Are there more Foxworths?”

“Just them,” Teague said, sounding suddenly solemn. “Their folks were killed in the Lockerbie bombing. Charlie’s a little older than Quinn, and raised him after that. It’s why Quinn started the foundation. He hated feeling so helpless when it happened, even though he was just a little kid. And when they let the guy go, he was so furious he vowed to try to help people who felt like he did, helpless to do anything about whatever injustice had befallen them.”

“He turned his anger to good use.”

“Yes.”

He slowed the car then, and Laney realized she hadn’t been paying much attention to where they were. She felt a little pang of unease. She was putting a lot of faith in his connection to Hayley, and the fact that Cutter clearly liked and trusted him. And now she was out in a remote area she didn’t know well, with a man she’d just met. Her unease grew as he turned into a narrow driveway that wound through thick trees.

It hit her then that perhaps Amber had been the same way. Too trusting. Because her best friend had said a guy seemed nice to her and she should give him a shot.

Guilt flooded her again, and she shivered under the force of it.

There was no getting around it. If Amber was in real trouble, or worse, it was her fault.

Chapter 5

“Laney?”

Teague had noticed her shiver, she thought. He didn’t seem to miss much.

“I don’t expect you to understand, but I really do feel so damned responsible,” she said. “For Amber.”

He said nothing as they reached a wide clearing in the trees where a rather utilitarian, three-story green building stood. There was no sign, not even a street number marking it. It was like many places out here, she guessed. If you belonged, you knew how to find it. Off to one side was a large metal building that looked like a warehouse, with a battered-looking silver sedan parked beside it. And beside that was a large swath of concrete with some odd markings. She was puzzled until she saw the bright orange windsock to one side and realized she was looking at a helicopter landing pad.

Teague pulled to a halt in a graveled parking area beside the green building and a larger, dark blue SUV. He put the car in Park. He turned off the engine. He unfastened his seat belt.

Then he shifted in his seat, turning to look at her.

“I understand perfectly,” he said, his voice holding a grimness she hadn’t heard from him until now. And when he went on, it sounded as if he were digging the words out with a rusty knife.

“My little sister was sixteen when I was first deployed. I was off to the Middle East, excited and afraid at the same time. Dad was stoic, as usual, Mom tight-lipped and silent. Neither of them was happy about what I was doing. Only Terri was proud. Weepy at my leaving, but proud of her big brother in uniform.”

Laney could picture it, and marveled anew at the bravery of people like Teague who served voluntarily. And hated that they weren’t always treated with the respect they deserved.

“Terri was the one who made me promise to write, call and Skype whenever I could. And she kept to her part of the bargain. I know more than once she passed on a date or a night with her friends or a party because that was the only time I’d be able to reach out halfway around the world.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was.” His voice was tight, harsh.

You lost somebody, didn’t you?

My sister. Years ago.

The brief exchange they’d had echoed in her head now.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

“While I was on my second tour, she vanished. Left for school and never arrived. She was never found. It destroyed what there was left of my family. My father drank himself to death, and my mother is a bitter woman who drives away anyone who tries to get close. Especially me.”

The words came choppily, and she wondered when the last time he’d told anyone this was. That he was telling her now, to help her, moved her a great deal.

“Teague, I’m so sorry. But it wasn’t your fault.”

“No? Tell my mother that. If I’d stayed home, like my parents wanted me to, I might have been able to protect her, or at least find her. So, yeah, I understand. Perfectly.”

Laney sighed. “I guess logic loses when stacked up against enough guilt.”

“Always,” Teague agreed.

Cutter woofed softly, politely, as if to remind them he was still there.

“Sorry, buddy,” Teague said, his tone reverting to normal. He hit a button that opened the back of the SUV. Laney turned to look as the dog jumped out, lifted his dark head, sniffed the air for a moment then confidently trotted toward the green building.

“Look,” Teague said, drawing her attention back, “I can’t promise they’ll take this on. But if they do, even if Amber is really just on some romantic escape, we’ll make sure of it so you can quit feeling guilty.”

“Do they usually take on what you bring them?”

His mouth quirked. “I’ve never brought anything to them before.”

She didn’t know whether to feel honored or worried.

He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door. Manners, she thought. Nice.

And then she was distracted by Cutter’s actions as he rose on his hind legs at the single door she could see, and batted at a large square button with his paw. He hit it, and the door slowly opened.

Teague saw her look. “Quinn’s brainstorm,” he said with that killer grin. “Sort of an oversize doggie door. And handicapped access, should it ever be needed. Took Cutter all of three seconds to figure it out. Now he comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Is that safe for him?”

“Nearly ten acres here and Cutter knows exactly where the boundaries are. He never gets too far from his people anyway.”

“Why is this place so...anonymous?” she asked as they neared the door Cutter had used.

“Sometimes those people who aren’t doing the right thing end up not too happy with us,” he explained. “So we don’t hang out a sign to advertise where we are. And that automatic door has a cutoff and lock switch in just about every room, in case we have to secure the building.”

She blinked at that. Did they really expect some kind of attack here? What had she gotten herself into?

He skipped the automatic door button and simply pulled it open for her. She stepped inside, not knowing what to expect.

To her surprise, the downstairs was furnished as if it were a home, a gas fireplace the centerpiece along one wall, with a leather couch and a couple of chairs arranged around a heavy coffee table in front of it, and a large area rug marking off the space visually. There was a small kitchen area along a back wall with an island separating it. A doorway on the other side stood partway open, showing a bathroom.

“This is...unexpected, from the outside.”

Teague chuckled. “Quinn was living here before he kidnapped Hayley.”

She blinked. “He what?”

“It’s a long story. Ask her sometime.”

He led her toward the stairway that ran along the far wall. They went up a flight, past the second floor that seemed mostly used for storage, then another.

“Quinn set up in here so we could watch the eagles,” Teague explained. “There’s a nesting pair in the woods just across the clearing.”

Laney smiled, feeling better at that. The frequent sightings of majestic bald eagles was one of her favorite things about living out of the city. She didn’t miss the crowds, the traffic or the noise, either. She had few regrets about moving across the water.

Except Amber.

She only hoped she didn’t regret that for the rest of her life.

* * *

Laney, Teague noted, had the same reaction many did to Quinn, a sort of awed silence. Despite the casual clothes, the polite words as he greeted them, and the way he was scratching the clearly delighted Cutter’s ears, what they called “command presence” fairly oozed from the guy. More than once Teague had caught himself about to salute him, and more often than that had thought if there were more like Quinn in the upper echelons, more brass that had come up the hard way instead of the political way, he never would have left the corps. When they talked about riding into the valley of hell, Quinn was the kind of guy it would take to lead that charge.

“Where is Hayley, anyway?” Teague asked. She wasn’t usually far away from Quinn or Cutter for long.

“Shopping.”

“Oh.”

“Clothes. Charlie,” Quinn said.

Teague grinned. “She’s still nervous about that, huh?”

Quinn grimaced. “Hell, I’m nervous about that. You know how Charlie can be.”

Since he’d had to go through a lengthy interview—more like an interrogation—with Foxworth’s CFO/CEO himself, Teague had all the sympathy in the world for anyone looking at their first meeting with the redoubtable Charlie Foxworth.

Quinn gave Cutter a final, roughhousing sort of rub behind both ears, then straightened up and looked at Laney.

“I can see he’s fine, and you’re not bandaged so I assume he didn’t bite you.”

Laney laughed, and Teague sensed her relax a little. “Cutter? Oh, no. He’s far too well-mannered for that.”

“That,” Quinn said dryly, “is up for debate. But if not that, what’s up?”

The “why are you here?” wasn’t spoken, but Teague heard it just the same. They didn’t bring people here unless they were already involved in their case, and Teague suddenly realized maybe he should have arranged a meeting somewhere else.

“Laney has...a problem.”

Quinn lifted a brow at him.

“One I think we could help with.”

“I see.” He focused on Laney, who had lapsed back into silence. Second thoughts? Teague wondered. Wishing she’d never agreed to this?

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding intimidated. “Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe I—”

“Maybe you should just tell me what’s going on.” Quinn’s voice was gentle then, calming, encouraging. It was another facet of that ability to command, and Quinn had them in balance better than anyone Teague had ever known.

Quinn walked over to the table that was placed beside the expansive windows that looked out over the clearing to the thick stand of trees. Different shades of green marked the spots where maples and other deciduous trees stood against steady evergreens.

He cleared away some papers, closed an open laptop and slid it to one side. “Sit down,” he said, “and let’s go over it.”

Laney still looked a little nervous, and Teague guessed she was remembering how the police had reacted. She gave him a sideways glance that made it clear going through it all again for the intimidating Quinn seemed overwhelming to her.

So Teague began. In the back of his mind he’d been thinking how to present it all the way over here anyway. He managed a fairly concise assessment, and Quinn listened without comment or interrupting.

“At least you made sense out of it,” Laney muttered when he’d finished.

“Not much to go on,” Quinn said neutrally.

“I know that,” Laney said. “Believe me, I know that.”

“I thought maybe we could at least find her, make sure she’s okay, put Laney’s mind at ease,” Teague said, wondering if his first effort at bringing a job to Foxworth was going to be a miserable failure.

“And if she is, Amber will likely be so embarrassed she might never speak to me again,” Laney said. “I hadn’t really thought that far until now.”

“If she gets angry with you for worrying about her,” Quinn said, “she’s not much of a friend.”

Laney’s surprised expression told Teague she hadn’t expected that. But the cogent assessment seemed to help, because Laney slowly nodded.

“There’s one more thing,” he said to his boss. “One thing I left out.”

“What?”

Teague drew in a deep breath. “Cutter.”

Quinn drew back slightly. He glanced over to where the dog was curled up on his bed in a beam of late summer sunlight, snoozing peacefully.

“Uh-oh,” Quinn said, much as Teague had back in the shop.

“Yeah. He made it pretty clear.”

He described the dog’s actions until Quinn held up a hand.

“All right,” his boss said. And with a slight shake of his head, he added, “Then I guess we’re in.”

Laney’s startled look nearly made Teague grin.

“Wait,” she said, “you decided this because of Cutter’s behavior?”

“His instincts are...I won’t say infallible, but he hasn’t made a mistake yet,” Quinn said.

Laney looked from Quinn to Teague and then back again. She spoke slowly, carefully. “I love dogs as much as anyone, and more than most. But you’re letting a dog decide this?”

“No.” Quinn glanced at Cutter again. “I’m letting that dog decide this. Because that’s what he does.”

“He brings you cases?”

“He finds them. After that it’s up to us.”

She gaped at Quinn. Teague couldn’t resist poking a little more.

“And he trusts us with them, unless he feels we’re not moving fast enough, or in the right direction. Then he butts in again.”

Quinn chuckled. “Makes you wonder how we functioned at all before he came along, doesn’t it?

Laney shook her head. “I think I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.”

“Nope,” Teague said, more cheerful than he had been, now that Quinn had agreed to take it on. “But you are in Cutter’s world now. And you’ll find things go smoother if you just accept that. He’s got his own sort of code, and a way of making sure we all follow it.”

“And when we don’t, things tend to go haywire,” Quinn said, his tone only half joking.

“And when you do?”

“Then things seem to work out.”

“You’ll see,” Teague said at Laney’s expression. “But the most important thing is, you’ll know for sure about Amber.”

And he could tell by the change in those expressive cinnamon eyes that he’d managed to say the right thing.

And Foxworth had a new case.

Chapter 6

“I’m not sure of Edward’s last name. His aunt’s name was Reed. Nancy Reed.” She grimaced. “I always thought it was nice he was willing to help her out picking up her dog at my old shop. Not every guy’s secure enough to be walking around with a three-pound Yorkie with a pink bow.”

“I’d be afraid I’d break it,” Teague said. “Or drop it.”

“He was always very gentle with her. I think that’s why I...”

Her voice trailed off.

“Trusted him?” Quinn asked.

She looked miserable as she nodded.

Teague couldn’t think of a thing to say that would make her feel better. Nothing had ever really made him feel better about Terri, so maybe the words didn’t exist.

“Can you tell us anything else about him?”

She’d already given a good description of him to Tyler Hewitt, their tech genius, who had used his own software, tweaked even further by former Foxworth client Dane Burdette’s company, to produce a very lifelike image of the man. Two, actually, one with and one without the ball cap with a boat on the front that Laney said he’d been wearing that day at the mall; people tended to focus on things like that. Printed on photo paper, you’d swear they were actual photographs of him. She’d been more observant than she’d realized, once she got into it, Teague thought. She’d remembered not just the cap but a mole behind his right ear and a small indentation over his left eyebrow.

“And I think Peachy may have bitten him once,” she’d said. “He had a couple of little scars on his right hand.”

“I wish I could be more help about him,” Laney said now, sounding upset with herself.

“You gave a great description,” Teague said.

“I feel so...self-absorbed. I never really noticed him that much at all, until he asked me out. Colleen, my boss and trainer at the shop there, usually handled the drop-offs and pickups, because she knew all the customers.”

Teague’s gaze flicked to Quinn, who gave him a barely perceptible nod. He was clearly giving Teague the lead on this, and Teague wasn’t sure how that made him feel.

“Did she ever say anything to you about him?”

“I’ve been trying to remember,” she said. “She never gossiped, said it wasn’t good business. The only thing I can think of was that once after he picked up Peachy for his aunt, I said how thoughtful that was. She laughed, and said something about him knowing where his bread was buttered. I’m not sure what she meant.”

“How about the aunt? Ever see or meet her?”

“Once. She was older than I expected, he’s only in his thirties. I think she might be Edward’s great-aunt, really.” She started to go on, then stopped.

“Laney?” Teague prompted.

“I don’t want to be mean,” she said. “And it doesn’t have anything to do with Amber.”

“We need everything you can tell us. For Amber’s sake,” Quinn said. “Let us decide if there’s a connection. It’s what we do.”

Laney sighed.

“She was older than I expected, but trying to hide it. I think she’d had surgery on her face. It had that kind of tight, wide-eyed look. But her hands...they were old.”

Teague flicked another glance at Quinn, saw he’d picked up on the two things Teague had.

“What kind of car did he drive?”

Laney blinked. “I... Uh, a racy little import. You know, one of those classics-brought-back kind of things. Red.”

Something in her tone made Teague ask, “You didn’t like it?”

“A bit much for me. I’m more of a utilitarian kind of person.”

“Did the aunt impress you as well-off?” Quinn asked.

Laney frowned “Wealthy, you mean? I suppose. She lived in a nice neighborhood. She did have diamond earrings, and a big ring on her right hand the one time I saw her, but it’s not like she was dripping in them. Nice clothes. I didn’t see her car. And if she did have plastic surgery, I suppose she must be. Why?”

“Diamonds, nice clothes, nephew drives a fancy car and knows where his bread is buttered.”

Laney’s eyes widened as Teague ran through the list. “You think he was just helping her out because he gets money from her?”

“Or plans to,” Teague said. “If she’s older, he may be playing a long game.”

She got there quickly. “Expecting to inherit?”

“It’s been done.”

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Teague liked her for that. Or he just liked the cute way she did it.

Slapping that thought back, he made himself focus. “Anything else about him? Did he live with his aunt?”

“I’m not sure. She lived near the U-District.”

“The university?” Teague asked. “Good hunting ground if you’re a thirty-plus-year-old guy into fresh-out-of-high-school women.”

Again her nose wrinkled. She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “ew.” Teague suppressed a smile and wondered what the hell he was finding so amusing about all this.

“Wouldn’t Amber be too old for him, then? She’s my age.”

Teague couldn’t picture anybody over sixteen thinking Laney Adams was too old. Too hot, maybe.

“Never mind,” Laney said, answering herself. “For a woman who looks like Amber, what guy wouldn’t make an exception?”

Teague was glad she’d gotten there on her own, because he had a feeling anything he would have said would have come out wrong.

“Did Amber have a passport?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t think so. But she had one of the travel ID cards. We used to go up to Victoria sometimes, at Christmas. Figured it was as close as we’d ever get to Christmas in London.”

“So she could have made the trip, technically.”

“Yes,” Laney admitted. “And I’m not saying she wouldn’t, just that I can’t believe she’d fly someplace that’s only a three-hour drive.”

“People in love change,” Teague said carefully.

“Amen,” Quinn said dryly.

Teague grinned at his boss, admitting the statement had been double-edged.

“And thankfully so,” Quinn added, with a smile Teague had come to know, an inwardly directed expression of pure love that made clear his thoughts were of the woman who had so changed his life.

“I know they do,” Laney said, her voice tentative, as if she didn’t want to interrupt Quinn’s pleasant musings. “But Amber never did. And I’ve been through a lot of guys with her. She’s always had guys after her. But she never blew me off for one of them.”

“Until now. With Edward. If that’s what’s happened,” Teague added carefully.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t go out with him. Wouldn’t.” Teague hadn’t meant to ask that, but he’d been saying a few things he hadn’t meant to lately.

“I told you, I wasn’t attracted.”

Quinn seemed to ponder that. “Good-looking guy, nice car, money, potentially a lot of money.”

He sounded like he was only musing out loud, but Laney answered somewhat defensively, “I don’t need money, or things, or even looks, but character and kindness and honesty. I’m really picky.”

“And Amber isn’t.”

And there it was, Teague thought. Damn, Quinn was good at this. Laney drew back, looking almost hurt at first, but then thoughtful.

“No,” she finally said, very softly. “She isn’t. Particular, but not picky. A difference she often pointed out to me.”

I’ll take picky, Teague thought. What could be better than knowing a picky woman had picked you?

He caught himself again, wondering where the hell this tendency to personalize every damn thing had come from. This was work, this was a job, and he’d better attend to it or he was going to royally mess it up.

He’d promised her they’d find Amber, one way or another. And that was what he intended to do. All he intended to do. Laney was vulnerable, hurting, and his screwy reaction to her was just his protective instincts in overdrive.

To prove it, he focused completely on the matter at hand as Quinn worked out the next steps. Foxworth was on a case, and that was where his unruly mind would stay.

Chapter 7

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hayley asked.

Laney looked at the woman who had so quickly become more than just a client since she’d first brought Cutter to her several months ago. She had stopped in just after Laney had opened up this morning, and had obviously talked to Quinn.

“You seemed really distracted yesterday,” she said.

Hayley made a face. “Well, you’re right about that. I’m a wreck about meeting the boss for the first time. Somehow I got it in my head the right clothes would make a difference, make me relax. Didn’t work.”

Laney stifled a laugh, then said, “And I thought Quinn was the boss. Teague said Charlie’s the organization, logistics and money side.”

“Genius burns,” Hayley said wryly.

“And you’ve never met before?”

“No. Charlie’s headquartered in St. Louis, near where they grew up, and prefers to stay there. Quinn’s only here because he loves this part of the country.”

“Well, and you.”

Hayley smiled then, a bright, flashing smile of pure and utter happiness. “Yes. And me.”

Laney felt a stab of...not envy—she liked Hayley too much for that—but perhaps longing. She supposed most women dreamed of having what Hayley had found, a strong, steady man like Quinn who would go to the ends of the earth for her.

And that’s what gets us into trouble, she thought. Like Amber.

“We’ll find her,” Hayley said, accurately reading her thoughts. “I promise. Nobody’s better at this than Foxworth.”

“I didn’t give you much to go on,” Laney said ruefully. She’d spent most of last night trying not to get her hopes up. “I know so little about the guy.”

“We have an amazing research team that can find darn near anything, or anyone. They can look in places most people don’t even know exist.”

“That sounds a bit...something.”

Hayley laughed. “Foxworth’s built up a lot of goodwill in a lot of different places over the years. It pays off.”

“What a strange operation,” Laney said. “You help anybody who needs it?”

“No,” Hayley said. “Not just anybody. People on the high road, who tried to do the right thing in the right way, but ran up against a roadblock they couldn’t get over or around, a block that shouldn’t be there in the first place. Sometimes groups, but individuals mostly, who have fought hard on their own but can’t keep going, financially, physically or emotionally. People fighting decisions made against them for no better reason than political expediency. Or stupidity. The powers that be, or petty tyrants throwing their weight around, or bigger types of corruption. That’s what Foxworth fights.”

Laney couldn’t miss the passion in Hayley’s voice. She might be the most recent to join Foxworth, through Quinn, but she was clearly as dedicated as the rest of them. And if that was truly their cause, she could understand that.

“Sorry,” Hayley said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to launch on you.”

“You don’t have to apologize for believing in what you do,” Laney said, meaning it. “Teague said you worked on referral only, though.”

Hayley nodded. “Word of mouth is the best advertising, and the only kind we rely on. Well, and now Cutter, since he seems to have such a knack.”

Laney laughed. “I still can’t believe Quinn really decided to help me because of what Cutter did.”

“It took us all a while to realize the dog knows what he’s doing. And the Foxworth crew is an unlikely bunch to put their trust in four paws, but they’ve learned he’s usually right.” Hayley shook her head. “Sometimes I think he’s not really a dog, but some magical being in disguise.”

“He certainly communicates better than any dog I’ve ever known.”

“He knows a lot more human than we know dog, that’s for sure,” Hayley agreed with a laugh.

Laney picked at a thread that had worked loose on her shirt. “Teague was very kind.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“He really seemed to understand how I feel. Because of his sister.”

Hayley went still. “He told you about Terri?”

Laney nodded. “How she vanished while he was deployed, and was never found. And how he feels guilty for not being here to protect her. Of course, his parents didn’t help, blaming him.”

For a long, silent moment Hayley just stared at her.

“What?” Laney finally asked.

“Teague,” she said, “never talks to anyone about that. I don’t think even Quinn knows as much as you just said. I certainly didn’t.”

Laney stared in turn. “You didn’t?”

Hayley shook her head. “I knew his sister had disappeared, but I had no idea he felt like that, or worse, that his parents blamed him. No wonder he’s not close to his mother now.”

“I think she was the worst,” Laney said. “I got the idea his father just shut down after.”

Even as she spoke, her mind was racing. She believed Teague never talked about his sister, it would explain the painful sound of his voice. She’d had the feeling then he hadn’t talked about it in a while, but she hadn’t realized “a while” meant never.

And yet he had told her.

It was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Teague is the most cheerful guy I know,” Hayley said. “Always with a quip, the one who lightens the mood. I knew there was another side to him, deeper, but he hides it so well....”

She focused on Laney. And the speculation in her vivid green eyes was hard to miss.

Oh, don’t go there, please!

Her sudden internal recoil startled her. Shouldn’t she be flattered that the guy let down enough to share an awful, painful story? That he felt enough empathy for her, and her situation, to do something he never did, share a part of himself he always kept hidden?

If she was honest, she had to admit she was flattered. Problem was, maybe she was too flattered. Teague was an attractive guy, she’d been alone a long time now, and he came with as much of a guarantee as you could get with a guy these days; the benefit of a thorough background check by Foxworth.

Instead of a casual, thoughtless “he seems like a nice guy, go for it” tossed off by an unthinking friend.

It stabbed at her again, the guilt, sharp and merciless. How on earth had Teague survived this for so long? Hayley said he was the most cheerful guy she knew; how did he do it? Was it just a facade, or had he really found a way to...obviously not forget, but live with it?

“It’s that guy thing,” Hayley said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “Compartmentalization. They really are able to do that, much better than I am, anyway.”

Laney drew back, eyes wide. How had she known exactly what she was thinking? “You are as perceptive as your dog. And I trust you to realize I mean that as a compliment.”

Hayley laughed. “Oh, I know. And it is a compliment, to be compared to that rascal in the perception department, since he’s uncannily good at it.”

Hayley’s cell phone rang, and from her instant smile Laney guessed the lilting, lively bit of music was assigned to Quinn’s calls. She answered, and Laney tactfully turned away, giving her some privacy. But Hayley mostly listened instead of talking. When she finally spoke, it was only to say “I’ll tell her.” Then a pause, an even wider smile, followed by “I love you, too.”

She tucked the phone back into an outside pocket on her bag. Then she turned to face Laney straight on.

“We have a lead,” she said.

* * *

“I can’t believe you guys did this so quickly.”

Teague glanced at Laney, who was sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV once more. They were on their way to SeaTac airport with recent photos of Amber in hand. Quinn was a big believer in HUMINT, human intelligence, or as Teague called it, boots on the ground, a holdover from his corps days. But it was Hayley who had quietly convinced Quinn to add another facet to their approach in non-hazardous situations: letting the involved party participate if that was what they wanted. No one, she said, was as invested in the case as the person themselves, and the urgency and emotion they displayed sometimes nudged people over onto their side, into empathy, by the sheer force of it. It made sense, and Teague had seen it work a couple of times now. He’d already had a lot of respect for Hayley after how she’d handled their actions the night she’d become collateral damage in their operation, and this only added to it.

Laney Adams, he thought, was cut from similar cloth. She might have been crying at first, but not since, and there was a steely determination in her, now that she knew she wasn’t alone. He suspected it would be wise not to underestimate her, now that she had a course set. And she’d made it clear she wanted to be involved every step of the way.

He’d reluctantly volunteered to be the one to pick up Laney. It only made sense, given he was the one who had brought her problem to them. And he didn’t quite understand his own reluctance. He hadn’t been happy about pouring his guts out to her about Terri, but it had seemed necessary at the time. He wasn’t much for looking backward and dwelling on things he couldn’t change, a lesson learned in the hardest of ways with his sister. But he was still uneasy, and if it wouldn’t have been odd enough to draw attention, he would have opted out.

He’d even thought of suggesting Hayley, using the girl thing as an excuse, but Quinn had so obviously assumed he’d want to be handling this one that it made him stop and wonder why he didn’t.

Maybe it was just that this one reminded him too much of Terri. True, Amber was an adult, not a sixteen-year-old girl, and there had been some contact, at least, via the texts, and they had a clue who she might be with....

Yeah, right. Cases are exactly alike, he thought wryly.

That excuse shattered, he wasn’t sure where that left him. Except in the car alone with Laney Adams, who unsettled him far too much. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, that was likely what had him wishing someone else would be doing this. Somewhere along the line he’d turned into a coward, wanting to avoid a situation that made him uncomfortable.

“Teague?”

He’d never answered her, he realized. In fact, he had to think for a second to remember exactly what her words had been.

“Sorry. Thinking.” Don’t ask me about what. “Yes, our guys are good.”

“It helps that they even looked.” Her voice was harsh, even a touch angry.

“The cops are understaffed, they have to play the odds,” he said. “And the odds say that an adult who’s still, as far as they know, texting her best friend, is okay.”

“And the friend who thinks something’s wrong with those texts is imagining things.”

“They have to justify the time they spend on cases. They have a lot on their plate. When they’re dealing with murders, shootings, robberies and the like, there’s not a lot of time left for...”

He’d been about to say “lesser things,” but managed to bite it back before the words got out.

“I get it. I know they have priorities. And they did try. They took the report, entered it into their system, put out flyers and released them to the press. But it pretty much ended there. I don’t really blame them, and I wouldn’t be upset if I weren’t so worried.” She sighed audibly. “I would have hired a private investigator, if I could afford it. But everything I have went into starting the shop.”

“Well, you’ve got in essence a team of them now,” Teague said.

“And you really do this for nothing? How does Foxworth afford it?”

“Charlie.”

“Charlie,” Laney said, “must truly be a genius.”

“In many ways. Plus being the only person on earth I’ve seen Quinn intimidated by.”

“That is a frightening thought.”

Laney laughed as she said it, and Teague was grateful the moment of tension seemed to have passed.

“I still can’t believe Amber got on a plane to Vancouver, though,” she said. “She seriously hates to fly. She got groped really badly once, and she’s never flown since unless she had no other choice.”

“All we know for certain is she bought a ticket,” he cautioned. “Or at least, her credit card did.”

Laney was looking at him; he could feel it, without even taking his eyes off the road in front of them. And when she spoke he heard the underlying note of fear in her voice, although he could tell she was trying to hide it.

“Are you saying somebody else bought it in her name?”

“The ticket was purchased online.”

“So all they needed was the card in hand.”

“Yes.”

“If she is with Edward, why didn’t he buy it?”

“Good question.”

“They said it was a round-trip ticket, though, right?”

Teague nodded. He didn’t point out that anybody paying attention these days would know a one-way ticket, especially one for an imminent flight, automatically drew more attention.

“So she would have been back by now, if she really had taken that trip.”

“If she kept to that schedule, yes. It’s taking our team a bit longer to find if the ticket was actually used. Passenger manifests are kept pretty close these days.”

She went silent then, but Teague sensed her mind was still racing. It was as if having Foxworth on her side had helped her go from helpless flailing to critical thinking, and now she was catching up in a hurry.

“It’s asking a lot to hope some ticket or airline agent will remember having seen her two weeks ago, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But there’s always a chance.”

“She is kind of distinctive.” She paused, gave him a sideways glance. “By that I mean beautiful. Stop-you-in-your-tracks stunning.”

He’d seen the photo they’d chosen to show, seen the others Laney had. He couldn’t deny Amber was a beautiful woman. Hair the golden color of her name, hazel eyes also more gold than anything. He preferred the warmth of cinnamon-brown, himself, but there was no denying Amber would have been noticed by any guy around.

Amber and Laney together would be enough to turn heads.

“You two must have looked like flip sides of the same coin.”

“Amber’s much prettier,” she said. It sounded like a reflex, an automatic response. Because she believed it? Because she’d said it so many times it actually was a reflex?

A third possibility occurred to him.

“If you were fishing for a compliment, consider it landed.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her head snap up. “No! I wasn’t. It’s a simple fact. I’m all right, but Amber is exquisite.”

He couldn’t deny the genuineness of her quick response; she really hadn’t been fishing. But what she said still surprised him.

All right? Is that really what you think, that you’re just “all right”?

It wasn’t just him, he told himself. Any guy breathing would think she was a lot more than “all right.”

But any guy wasn’t working for her—that’s how they were taught at Foxworth, you were working directly for the client—so he’d better keep his head straight.

No matter how difficult the woman sitting beside him made that.

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