Kate Hoffmann: Sean

"How long have you been watching this guy?"

"Two weeks," Sean said, his gaze returning to the front door of the building. He watched the door open and couldn't help but smile when Eddie stepped out-right on schedule-dressed in a tailored sport coat and perfectly pressed trousers. Though he was in his mid-forties, Eddie made a point to stay in shape. He could easily pass for a man ten years younger. He carried a leather overnight bag, an ominous sign for a guy like Eddie. Was he preparing to run? "That's him," Sean murmured.

Atkins looked at his watch. "Two fifty-five. I guess you don't know your guy as well as you thought you did." He stepped into the street and Randolph followed. "We'll take him. You stay here."

"The hell I will," Sean muttered. "If he bolts, I want to be close enough to catch him."

They were halfway across the street when Eddie saw them. Sean knew before the agents did that he was going to run. Sean could see it in that split second when their eyes met. It was that knowledge that gave him a jump on the agents. Before they could even shout, Sean took off after Eddie. He caught up to him halfway down the block, grabbing him around the waist and wrestling him to the ground.

By the time Randolph and Atkins reached them both, Sean had Eddie pinned, his hands twisted behind his back. Atkins cuffed Eddie, then yanked him to his feet. "There are a whole bunch of ladies anxious to see you again, Eddie," the agent said.

"Wait, wait," Eddie said. "You can't take me now!"

Randolph laughed. "You want us to come back later? Yeah, right, we'll do that. In fact, why don't you just call us when you're ready to turn yourself in?" He shoved Eddie toward the car, but Eddie stopped and turned back to Sean.

"Hey! Hey, buddy!" he shouted. "Come here."

Sean glanced at the two agents and they both shrugged. "What do you want?" he asked.

"You gotta help me out. It's really important." He tried to reach into his pants' pocket, but the agents grabbed him. Atkins pulled out a wad of bills secured in a fancy money clip. "Give the guy fifty," Eddie said. "No, make it one hundred."

The agent handed Sean two fifties. "What's this for?" Sean asked.

"I want you to go over to 634 Milholme Street and tell Laurel Rand what happened."

"You'll get a phone call," Sean said. "You call her." He pushed the money back at him.

"No, I can't. By then it will be too late. You gotta do this for me. Tell her I'm real sorry. Tell her I really loved her."

Sean stared down at the money. He should refuse, but every dollar in his pocket was one more dollar toward a real office and maybe even a real secretary. One hundred dollars would pay the electric bill for a few months. Why not take a few minutes and run a simple errand? "All right. You want me to tell her you were arrested?"

Eddie nodded.

"You want me to tell her why?"

"You might as well. Once she learns the truth, she isn't going to want to talk to me again. But tell her I really did love her. She was the one."

"Yeah, Eddie," Agent Randolph muttered. "I'm sure that's what you tell all the ladies. Do you say that before or after you pick their bank accounts clean?"

"I loved them all," Eddie said. "I just have this compulsion. I keep asking them and they keep saying yes. That's their fault, not mine!"

"Let's go." Agent Randolph dragged Eddie away by the arm.

"Remember, you promised," Eddie shouted at Sean. "I'm counting on you."

The agents pushed Eddie into the back of the sedan, then roared off down the street. Sean glanced at his watch again. It wouldn't take him more than a half hour to deliver the message. After that, he'd head back to his apartment, type out a final invoice and get it in the mail. By next week, he could have his money, and the week after that, he could start looking for a small office. There was still advertising and office equipment to think about, of course. And he'd need a phone and an answering service and a beeper. If he was going to build a successful business, he'd have to start dressing for success, too-like suits and maybe a tie or two.

He strolled over to his car. "Milholme Street," he murmured. "This should be fun."

Milholme was only a few miles from Eddie's place. Sean squinted against the midday sun, pulling his sunglasses down to read the numbers on the homes along the wide boulevard. But when he reached the address Eddie had given him, he discovered it wasn't an apartment or a business, but a church.

He pulled the car into a spot on the street. Parked near the front of the church was a long limo with a Just Married sign pasted to the back. "What the hell is this?" Suddenly he regretted saying yes to Eddie. The last thing he wanted to was to tell some woman that she was going to be dateless for the wedding festivities.

Sean noticed several single women standing in front of the church, dressed in their Saturday-afternoon finery. One of them had to be Laurel Rand. He jogged across the street and approached the first woman he met. "I'm looking for Laurel Rand," he said.

"She's inside," the pretty guest replied.

Sean nodded, then took the steps two at a time. The sooner he took care of this responsibility, the sooner he could get over to Quinn's Pub and celebrate the successful closing of a case. He found a bridesmaid just inside the doors, clutching a bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Laurel Rand?" he asked.

"She's down that hallway," the bridesmaid said, pointing to the left. "Last door on the right. Are you the photographer?"

Sean frowned at the girl before he headed down the hall. He wasn't sure what to expect when he knocked on the door. But when a woman dressed in a bridal gown opened it, he knew taking the money from Eddie had been a colossal mistake. He'd just been thrown to the lions and he was wearing sirloin shorts. "Laurel Rand?"

"Yes?"

Sean swallowed hard as her gaze met his. He recognized her as one of the women he'd seen with Eddie over the past few weeks. But he'd never realized how beautiful she was. She looked like a angel, all pale and perfect, dressed in white. He had to clench his fingers just to keep from reaching out and touching her. Her wavy blond hair was pulled back from her face and tucked beneath a veil, but a tiny strand had slipped loose, the only distraction from absolute perfection.

Her dress rustled, startling him back to reality. "You're Laurel Rand?" Sean repeated, all the time praying that Laurel Rand was somewhere else inside the room, maybe arranging the flowers or polishing the bride's shoes.

"Yes," she said. "Are you the photographer? You were supposed to be here an hour before the wedding." She reached out and grabbed his hand, then pulled him into the room. Her touch was warm and caused an unbidden reaction. "We only have thirty minutes before the ceremony is supposed to begin. How are we going to get all the shots I wanted? Where is your equipment?"

"I-I'm not the photographer."

She let go of his hand. "Who are you? And why are you interrupting me? Can't you see I'm the bride? You're not supposed to make me nervous," she babbled. "I'm supposed to be calm. Don't I look calm?"

He fought the temptation to grab her hand again, to hold on tight while he gave her the news. "You… you look-" Sean took a deep breath, searching for a word to adequately describe her. "Beautiful. Stunning. Actually… I'd say… breathtaking." For a guy who had trouble talking to women, he certainly wasn't having any trouble now.

A tiny smile curled the corners of her mouth. "Thank you."

Sean wanted to turn and run, content to keep the memory of Laurel Rand in his head just as she was when she smiled. To hell with Eddie. He was a bigamist, nine times over. But still, some inborn instinct to protect her from humiliation kicked in. "Can we talk?" he asked, reaching out to take her by the elbow, anxious for any excuse to touch her again.