C.J. Carmichael - Perfect Partners?

Long ago Lindsay had concluded that her memories of her childhood were unreliable, as a whole. But this one she knew was true and she clung to it.

Her parents had been happy, once.

Her father had loved her mother. Once.

Lindsay reached for a towel to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on her face. Through the fabric she felt the cheekbones she’d inherited from her mother. The strong nose and firm jaw of her dad.

As Nathan had said, life went on. In one form or another.

Slowly she got back onto her feet, then went to her closet and changed into jeans and a sweater. No sense trying to sleep again, at least not until she’d sufficiently distracted herself. Work was always good for that.

On her way out of the room, she touched a finger to the photo of her mother that she kept on her bureau. Her Mom’s smile calmed her, reminding her that not everything from her past had been terrible.

She grabbed her handbag from the rack by the front door, locked up, then headed down the stairs to the street. Though her neighborhood was primarily residential, it was never completely quiet, not even in the dead of night. The noise of the traffic was reassuring as she made her way down the block. A young couple, arms linked, passed by on the opposite side of the street. They were talking passionately about something, oblivious to her existence a mere twenty feet away.

She felt a touch of envy for their closeness and also curiosity. What could matter so much at two o’clock on a Thursday morning? She stopped to fish her keys from her purse, then made her way through the main door, up the stairs, to the office. She flicked on a few select lights, just enough so she wouldn’t bang her shin on any of the furniture.

As she passed by Nadine’s desk she noticed an African violet next to the phone. That was new. Touching one of the leaves confirmed her guess—it wasn’t silk.

Nadine meant well, but real plants needed watering and fertilizer and constant attention. Sooner, rather than later, they all died—at least every plant she’d ever owned did.

Tomorrow she’d talk to Nadine and remind her of the company policy toward green stuff.

In her office Lindsay switched on the desk lamp. Light pooled on the last file she’d been working on. Paperwork wasn’t a fun part of the job—that was one of the reasons she’d hired Nadine. But no receptionist was ever going to be able to take over the job of writing her reports for her.

That afternoon she’d shot some video footage for a Workers’ Compensation case and now she sat down to compose the report. She turned on her computer, and while she waited for the programs to load, she reviewed the footage on her camcorder.

As she watched, she shook her head ruefully. The claimant had made this case painfully easy, as he’d actually had the audacity to drive to his local gym for a workout, clearly not hampered by the injury he claimed made it impossible for him to drive a truck.

Setting aside the camera, she started typing.

“The following investigation was conducted by Lindsay Fox, of Fox Investigations, on October 17, 2009, in New York City.

“On this date I observed Lyle P. Cuthbert leave his house at quarter to nine, driving his 2005 Ford Taurus. I followed Mr. Cuthbert to—”

A noise from the reception area stopped Lindsay cold. She froze as she heard the distinctive scrape of a lock turning in a dead bolt. Good God, someone was breaking in.

There wasn’t enough time to call for help. She fumbled with her key ring, then unlocked the bottom drawer where she kept her gun. The weight of the Glock in her hand was reassuring as she quietly crept away from her desk, to stand in the dark shadows behind the door.

“Lindsay?”

“Bloody hell.” It was Nathan. She let her arms fall to her sides as the adrenaline filtered out of her body.

A moment later he appeared in the doorway. His gaze went immediately to the gun. “I scared you. Sorry about that.”

He was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved gray T-shirt. Combined with the day’s growth on his cheeks and chin and his inscrutable eyes, he could have been auditioning for a role as a cat burglar.

“What the hell are you doing here at this hour? And how did you get in?”

“Nadine gave me a key. I work here now. Remember?”

“One month,” she reminded him. “Then we reassess.”

His gaze held hers. “It’s going to work out.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“I just am.” His gaze dropped to her gun again. “Are you going to put that away? You’re making me nervous.”

She went to her desk and locked the gun back in the bottom drawer. Standing up, she brushed aside some hair that had fallen over her eye. She noticed Nathan watching her, his expression intent.

“You still haven’t told me why you came to the office so late,” she said.

“I was up with my sick nephew for a few hours, so my sister could get some rest. By the time Justin finally settled down, I wasn’t tired anymore.”

She remembered that he had a sister, but she’d thought she was married. “Does your sister live with you now?”

“Yeah. It’s a temporary thing. She split up with her husband a few months ago. By the way, I’ve set up a meeting tomorrow with Audrey Burchard. That’s why I’m here—to collect my notes and prepare some questions. I’m assuming you want to come to the interview?”

She was very interested in meeting Celia’s mother and judging for herself whether the woman really was telling the truth about what she remembered. “What time?”

“Celia arranged for us to drop in at the town house on Park Avenue at ten in the morning.”

“I’ll have to do some juggling with my schedule. Want to take a cab from here?”

“That’ll work.”

Lindsay glanced at her watch. It was almost three. One good thing about this late night encounter with Nathan—it had put all thoughts of her nightmare out of her mind. “I think I’ll head home and get a few hours’ sleep.”

He nodded. “I just need to grab that file. I made a copy for you, too.”

“Great. I’ll read it at home.” Lindsay closed up her office, then met Nathan at the front door. He had two manila folders in his hand and he passed her one.

“Thanks.” She was glad to see that he was still as methodical and conscientious as ever. They exited the office and she locked up behind them. Nathan followed her down the corridor and the stairs, until they were back on the street.

Nathan kept walking with her as she headed toward her apartment, even though the subway entrance was in the opposite direction.

“So what were you doing at the office so late?” he asked.

“I often work at night. I like the quiet.”

“Still a night owl, huh?”

Suddenly she was reminded of one night when they’d been working late together. They’d been in an unmarked car, waiting outside an apartment building for the suspect they were tailing to make his move.

They’d been listening to the radio and talking. The music was soft and romantic and a mood had settled over her, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She’d felt safe and warm and extremely aware of the attractive man beside her.

Until that moment, Nathan had never made an inappropriate comment or move, never given any indication that he might find her attractive, too.

But that night she’d thought she saw an admiring light in his eyes. When she held his gaze, he’d shifted subtly in her direction. She must have moved toward him, too, because the next thing she knew they were kissing.

There’d been an immediate spark between them, and soon the spark was a roaring blaze. They’d necked like teenagers, making love with their clothes on, and they might have gone even further, if Nathan hadn’t noticed the suspect leaving the apartment building. With their guy on the move, the moment between them was terminated with surgical precision.