Kristin Gabriel - Night After Night...

“Have a seat.” Harlan handed him the file folder, then hovered at his shoulder as Nate opened it.

“Now take a look at her vitals when you got into bed with her,” Harlan said

Nate glanced down at the file, noting a sudden spike in her pulse rate and respiration around the time that he joined her in the Elvis bed. “That’s not exactly surprising. She thought I was an intruder. Anyone would have that reaction.”

“Yes, but notice how long those levels stay elevated. Even after she falls asleep—or pretends to fall asleep.”

Nate’s gaze flicked from the television screen to the data report and back again. “According to this, she was awake for almost four hours after I got there.”

“Which makes me believe that you definitely had an effect on her.”

Nate closed the file, mentally storing the information for later use. “The only effect I want to have is closing this case. The sooner I can find out the truth about Carleen Wimmer, the better.”

Harlan frowned. “You’re not going to intimidate her, are you? I only agreed to set this up because you made her sound like some kind of ruthless barracuda. Now that I’ve actually met Carleen, I have to admit I’m having second thoughts.”

So was Nate. He’d let Mrs. Hamilton’s prejudices color his image of Carleen. But instead of finding a worldly schemer, she’d struck him more as a woman who didn’t know the power of her own sexuality. Or if she did, had used it so skillfully that Nate was still reeling from their close encounter this morning.

He closed the folder. “Don’t worry about Carleen. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Harlan started to say something else, but Nate’s cell phone interrupted him.

Nate looked at the number on the display panel. “I’d better take this.”

“I’ll give you some privacy.” Harlan headed toward the door. “Go ahead and show yourself out when you’re through. I need to start studying all the data from last night.”

“Thanks, Harlan.” He waited until the man was out the door before he answered the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“I know it’s early, Mr. Cafferty, but I’m quite eager for an update on my case.”

“Not much has changed since yesterday.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Mrs. Hamilton’s voice quavered. “My son called me last night. Somehow that tart convinced him to cut his trip short and come home a week early. He told me they’re going to marry as soon as his plane lands.”

“That doesn’t give you much time to torpedo the wedding.”

“You’re the one running out of time,” she countered. “I need dirt on Carleen Wimmer and I need it as soon as possible.”

Nate swallowed a sigh, tempted to quit the case and let Mrs. Hamilton find her own dirt. But the thought of leaving Carleen behind bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Besides, he wasn’t a quitter and Mrs. Hamilton had paid for his services.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said at last.

“Please don’t disappoint me, Mr. Cafferty,” she replied. “I only have three weeks left to save my son.”

He rang off, wondering how he could accelerate his investigation without arousing Carleen’s suspicion. She had told him only the most superficial information about herself and her family so far. Nothing solid he could go on.

Then it hit him.

Maybe the key wasn’t talking to Carleen, but someone who knew her. Someone who lived with her and worked with her on a daily basis.

Nate suddenly had an irresistible urge to redecorate the master bedroom of his home. And he knew the perfect interior designer to hire for the job.

Mia Maldonado.

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