LITMIR.BIZ

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no offense, but I’m working way too many hours to put up with you, as well. It’s almost ten o’clock. I still have to finish this report. I haven’t even eaten lunch. If my stomach growls any louder, you could arrest me for disturbing the peace. Please, go away. Make an appointment if you have to come back. Better yet, make dinner reservations.”

      “All right.”

      “What?”

      “You haven’t eaten, I haven’t eaten. I am going to ask you questions. Now, I can stand in your doorway for the event, or, if you’d like, we could go get a bite to eat.”

      “I…I…” Josie stared down at her wrinkled silk blouse and creased navy blue skirt. Her bare feet, with their red-painted toenails, stared back at her. She’d forgotten about her toenails. Her whole body abruptly flushed with mortification. She was too exposed. “Tomorrow night,” she said weakly. “I’m…I’m not dressed for it now.”

      “Tomorrow night’s the fund-raiser. I thought you were going.” He added dryly, “I have four tickets.”

      Now her cheeks were definitely hot red. “I’m not dressed to go out now.”

      “We’ll go someplace casual.”

      “No. No, really, I’m not hungry anymore.” Her stomach growled loudly and endlessly. She stared at the ceiling and pretended the noise had come from the vents. Jack, of course, was amused. The smug son of a…

      “You don’t have to order anything,” he said with feigned innocence. “You can watch the glasses of water in case they’re planning a fresh attack.”

      “That’s not funny.”

      “Josie, I’ve had a long week as well. Now, come with me or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and personally carry you to the restaurant.”

      “Police brutality!”

      “Necessary use of force. Want to grab your purse now? My stomach’s about to growl, too.”

      She scowled harder. She didn’t trust Jack Stryker. Most of the time she was pretty sure she didn’t like him. Worse, she was even more certain that she liked him too much. There was a good reason they had been avoiding each other for two years. And now?

      “I’m buying my own dinner,” she said stiffly. “I don’t accept free meals from cops—there are too many strings attached.”

      “Fine. Don’t you think you should put on your shoes, as well?”

      “Oh.” She fought back another blush and recovered her heels from beneath her desk with as much dignity as possible.

      * * *

      Jack took her to a corner diner, the kind of place frequented by cops and people working night shifts. The pink Formica tabletops were sticky, and the red vinyl booths patched with gray duct tape. A gum-cracking waitress tossed laminated menus at them, poured two cups of thick coffee without asking and walked away.

      Josie stared after her with open admiration. “Now, that’s attitude.”

      “Wait till she returns to take our order. You’ll discover the menus are just for show. They serve whatever the cook feels like making that particular evening.”

      “I see. Come here often?”

      “Often enough. The coffee is strong and the food good.” He set down his menu and folded his hands on the edge of the table, looking at her intently.

      She returned his gaze inch for inch, her chin stubbornly in the air.

      Jack, however, didn’t speak right away. Instead, his eyes took on the dim stare of a man whose mind was already a million miles away. Was he thinking about the case? Or maybe this evil ex-wife she’d heard rumors about. Mary…Margaret…Marjorie. The evil Marjorie.

      She scrutinized him, trying to get some insight into his cool, controlled expression. The lights in the diner were harsh and far from kind. This close, she could see the fresh lines around his eyes and the pall of sleepless nights tingeing his skin. He was ragged around the edges, as if life was beating him up a bit. She knew that feeling.

      “You don’t have any leads, do you,” she asked bluntly.

      He didn’t bother to pretend. “Just you.”

      “Me?”

      “We know it’s a woman with blond hair and the nickname Jo. How many people call you Jo, Josie?”

      “That’s…that’s ridiculous!” she exclaimed, but she was shaken. They were looking for a blond woman named Jo? She hadn’t known that. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so well. “No one calls me Jo,” she tried to protest. She was lying. Her father had called her Jo. When she’d been really young and her hair cut short, he would dress her up as his son Joe, depending on the scam they were running.

      “Everyone has a nickname.”

      “How do you know it’s a woman?”

      “I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”

      “Oh, well, I beg your pardon! You’re at liberty to accuse me, but not tell me why. Must be great to be a cop!” There was too much anger in that last sentence and they both knew it.

      “You seem to have a thing against the police, Josie. Why is that?”

      “I’m head of the Save-the-Doughnuts Foundation,” she said flippantly. “Can’t you people see the damage you’re inflicting on pastries everywhere?”

      “Cute. Want to try again?”

      “No, I don’t. I’m not ‘at liberty to say.’ Now, are you going to feed me, or was that just a ruse to get me in heels before you cut me down to size?”

      “We can order.” His tone was controlled and dispassionate. She sat across from him and silently contemplated his death. It hurt her that he could be so distant. It hurt her that he was the quintessential cop when a part of her had wanted him to be something more. Someone worthy of the secret tingles he sometimes sent up her spine. Well, she was stupid.

      The waitress arrived. As Jack had predicted, most items on the menu were currently unavailable. However, they could order turkey with trimmings or roast beef. They both ordered the turkey.

      Josie got milk and sugar for her coffee and doctored it up. Even then, the first sip made her eyes pop open. “Wah! That could put hair on your chest.”

      “Brewed all day for that special punch.”

      “Yes, indigestion.”

      They lapsed into awkward silence.

      “So you’re going to the fund-raiser tomorrow night?” Jack asked at last.

      “Yes. And you?”

      “Definitely. Stone and Jessica are coming, as well.”

      “What are you doing with the fourth ticket?”

      “My dad.”

      “Ben?” She brightened. “You have a wonderful father, Jack. He works so hard! Did you know he’s helped rewire some of the farms and businesses? He’s such a generous man.”

      “He mentioned that he was helping out,” Jack said neutrally. Mention of his father had definitely put a spark in Josie’s eyes. Something tightened his gut. It was suspiciously close to jealousy.

      Josie was stirring her coffee again. Her movements were brisk and energetic. She’d appeared tired and disgruntled when he’d first arrived at her office; the strain around her eyes was genuine. But now she was catching her second wind. A delicate color tinged her cheeks and brightened her blue eyes. Her pale blond hair glowed soft and flaxen down around her shoulders. She still hadn’t buttoned her silk blouse, and when she leaned forward, he had a glimpse of frothy lace and creamy skin. She wasn’t a tall woman, or a large woman. But she carried herself with a definite

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