Shrugging, he said, “He’s just Ted. Here, use this chair.”
Cautiously, keeping her gaze on the cat, Charlie circled to the chair Harry held out. “Is he always so mean?”
“With women, yes. He behaves well enough for me. Or maybe I behave well enough to suit him. Whatever, the arrangement works.” Harry smiled at her.
“The dogs don’t bother him?”
“Actually, they all get along fairly well. On his first day here, about a year or so ago, Ted explained things. We haven’t had a real ruckus since.”
“You’ve only had him a year? He looks older.”
“He is. I found him in an alley while I was on a job. He saved me by making a grand distraction when he objected to our invasion of his private space.”
“He threw a hissy like he just did to me?”
“Exactly, which effectively distracted the fellow who’d been holding a gun on me. I was able to…get the upper hand. So I brought Ted home. The vet treated him, despite Ted’s vicious complaints, and as long as I keep him well fed and his litter box clean, he doesn’t destroy my home.”
“A fair enough trade-off, I suppose.” She still eyed the cat warily, but Harry was pleased to see there was no dislike in her eyes. She understood, and he liked that.
“Cream or sugar?”
She snorted at such a suggestion, then took a healthy sip of her black coffee.
Harry scrutinized her as he liberally sweetened his own. “So you drink yours like a trucker, hmm? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”
After another sip, she asked, “For the same reason that seeing you turn yours into syrup doesn’t surprise me?”
“Your insults are getting sloppier. You must be tired.” He glanced at the clock, saw it was after midnight, and wondered if he should call Dalton after all. He hated to wake the older man if he’d already gone to bed. And Dalton did know Harry could take care of himself, so perhaps he hadn’t been worried at all. “Is your sister appeased by whatever story you told her?”
She frowned at that. “I told her the truth, and yeah, she’s appeased, but far from happy. She told me she’s going to wait up for me.”
Charlie offered that last small tidbit with a wince, which told Harry the night was going to get a whole lot shorter. “I assume this means you want to head home soon?”
“I’m afraid so. Jill is only eighteen, and she worries more than she should.”
That brought out a snort, which appalled him. Good God, he was beginning to pick up her less discriminating habits. Harry cleared his throat. “More than she should? With a sister who muddles into extortion and gets herself kidnapped, I’d say she’s justified.”
Charlie shrugged. “She wants me to give it up, my spying that is, but I’m determined.”
“Charlie—”
“No, before you start any lectures, I have a few questions for you.”
“Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“I know you said you wouldn’t want to see me again—”
Before he could correct her, because at this point he had every intention of seeing her, all of her, as many times as was necessary to get the fever out of his system, she held up a hand and continued.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to get clingy. A little hanky-panky would have been…nice. But the night has gotten way too complicated, and I can see why you wouldn’t want to get involved with me beyond the night. I mean, we’re hardly two peas from the same pod.” She tried a smile that looked more like a grimace. “But… Well, I was hoping we could work out a different arrangement.”
Harry leaned back in his seat, positively prostrated. “You think a rendezvous with me would be merely nice?”
She looked startled by his tone. “Very nice,” she clarified, as if that made it better.
He felt smote to his masculine core. Here he’d been dredging up pagan images too erotic to bear, and she’d relegated the possibilities to merely nice. “I’ll have you know—”
“I’d like to hire you, Harry.”
That effectively put the brakes on his righteous diatribe. Hire him? Did she consider him a gigolo? Did she dare think she could afford him if he was for sale? The nerve.
But in a lusty sort of way the idea genuinely appealed to him. His body tensed until his muscles cramped. He was so hard, he could be considered a weapon.
Carefully, in case he misunderstood, he asked, “Hire me for what?”
“Detecting, of course. What else would I mean?”
Disappointment flowed through him. Nevertheless, he contrived to look merely curious. “Of course. And what would you need a P.I. for?”
“I told you.” she said with exaggerated patience. “To find out information on my father. He abandoned my sister and me ages ago, and that’s fine by me because from what I know of it, we were better off without him. Except now I think it’s time he accepted a few responsibilities. I figure since your friend has hired you to look into the extortion, and my father is one of the proprietors in that area, it shouldn’t really be too much trouble for you to find out a few things for me.”
A sick feeling of dread started to choke him. He remembered their most recent introduction, when she’d given him her last name. His belly churned, and he forced the question out. “Your father is?”
“Dalton Jones.”
HARRY STARTED TO choke, picked up his coffee to take a large gulp, then choked some more. Coffee spewed out his nose and Charlie jumped up to pound on his back with surprising force. The cat hissed and loped out of the room. Harry fumbled for a napkin, and while Charlie tried to drive his ribs through his chest, he cleaned his face.
“You okay?”
Wheezing, he said, “If you’d quit bludgeoning me, it’s possible I’ll survive.”
She quit. In fact, her small hand opened, and rather than pounding, she smoothed her palm over his back. Harry stiffened. “What are you doing?” he asked carefully.
“You feel nice. Hard. And real warm.”
He started to choke again, and Charlie reseated herself. “That was the strangest damn thing, Harry. I’ve never seen coffee shoot out someone’s nose before. And it was still steaming.” She looked vaguely impressed when she added, “That had to hurt.”
“You frightened Ted, attacking me that way—”
“Yeah, right.” She gave a hearty snort. “Nothing would scare that beast.”
“—and you don’t sound the least bit sympathetic, so just be quiet.” His brain throbbed not only from her interested, caressing touch, but with ramifications of her admission. Dalton Jones, his best friend, the man who’d always been there for him, emotionally supported him, got him through his divorce-from-hell, was Charlie’s father? And she didn’t appear to have any fond feelings for the man. No, she literally sneered when she said his name, leading Harry to believe her feelings bordered more on contempt than anything else. Harry dropped his head to a fist and sighed.
“Sheesh. What’s got you so all-fired dejected, Harry?” She lounged back in the chair, at her leisure. “If you don’t want the job, just say so. It’s not like I was trying to coerce you or anything. I just thought since you’ll be checking things out there anyway, it’d be no big deal to let me know if you heard anything.”
Feeling himself duly cornered, Harry sighed again. “Let me get this straight. You want to get reacquainted with your father?” It was a shock, but Dalton would certainly be thrilled. Harry knew he’d spent a good portion of his life chasing after his ex-wife, doing his best to locate his children, to reclaim them, but the woman had always eluded him for reasons of her own.
Charlie bristled like an offended porcupine. “Hell no! I personally don’t want anything to do with him. And if I had any other choices, he could rot for all I cared. But…well, my mother passed away not too long ago and between her never-ending medical bills and the funeral, I’m flat broke. I need some cash to get my sister through college. The bar is mortgaged through the roof, and I can’t handle another personal loan.”
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