LITMIR.BIZ

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behind him, Jake turned.

      Nicole watched his sharp cop’s eyes narrow as they took in the man who’d stepped through the door carrying a small tray. Her assistant was tall with dark blond hair, blue eyes and a square jaw. Today, Mel was dressed in neat slacks and a white shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. In the four months he’d worked for her, Mel’s efficient, friendly demeanor had won her undying gratitude. Her decision to help pay for his college tuition had garnered her assistant’s total devotion.

      “Oh, sorry, boss,” he said with an easy smile. “Didn’t realize you were with a client.”

      “It’s all right.” Glad for an excuse to distance herself from Jake, Nicole moved to the seating area in one corner of the office. “Sergeant Ford isn’t a client.”

      A thought had her hesitating when she reached the coffee table around which a love seat and two wing chairs were grouped. She gave Jake a look across her shoulder. “Unless you’re here because you’ve decided to go out with the gorgeous doctor?”

      “I’m here about Ormiston.”

      The tightness she’d felt in her chest since she found Phillip’s body intensified. She’d lain awake all night, haunted by images of her client collapsed on the marble floor at the base of the staircase, of his glassy, sightless eyes….

      “I need to look at his file,” Jake said.

      “Of course.” She nudged a few magazines to one side of the table. When a gold pen rolled across the table’s polished surface and onto the toe of her shoe, she frowned.

      “Something wrong, boss?” Mel asked.

      “No.” Realizing who the pen belonged to, she slid it into her suit pocket, then swept a hand at the table. “Just put the tray here, Mel. And please bring in Mr. Ormiston’s file.”

      “Sure.”

      She met Jake’s gaze. Because she wanted to maintain as much distance from him as possible, she gestured toward one of the wing chairs. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked, settling onto the love seat.

      “No, thanks.”

      “The tea’s Siberian ginseng,” Mel pointed out.

      Despite the tenseness that gripped her, Nicole fought a smile at her assistant’s expectant look. Not in any circumstance could she picture Jake Ford sipping tea out of a china cup.

      “I’ll pass.”

      With a shrug, Mel settled the tray holding her favorite china teapot and matching cup and saucer on the table.

      “How about some coffee instead?” Mel asked. “We have several blends. Or maybe you’d prefer an espresso or latte?”

      “Just the file.”

      “Sparkling water?” Mel persisted.

      Jake raised a dark eyebrow. “The file.”

      “I’ll bring it right in.”

      While Mel headed toward the door, Nicole picked up the teapot. She felt the intensity of Jake’s gaze on her while she filled her cup.

      “Siberian ginseng?” he asked. “That one of Sebastian’s brews?”

      “No, Mel blends all of our teas. He gets the ingredients from his uncle Zebulon, who cultivates fresh herbs as a hobby.”

      Jake leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Tell me something. Do you know any normal people?”

      She blinked. “Normal?”

      “Somebody who doesn’t know what the hell a biorhythm or yoga discipline is? One person who doesn’t give a damn if their capillaries breathe because they’re too busy loading their system with fried food and black coffee? Someone who can find a date on their own without paying to get fixed up?”

      Raising the china cup to her mouth, Nicole forced herself to project an outward calm. She took pride in her work and her lifestyle, and she did not appreciate the man’s cynical attitude. However much she’d like to smash her teacup over his head, she wouldn’t do it.

      “You, Sergeant,” she said coolly. “From seeing the fast-food sacks in the back of your car, I’d say you’re overly normal. Probably veering toward average. Perhaps even on the dull side.”

      The instant narrowing of his eyes gave her some small sense of satisfaction. It also reminded her of how irresistibly drawn she was to his intense, dark looks…and how intrigued she was by the man.

      He sat back in the chair, raised a hand. “Look, I didn’t mean—”

      Whether he was about to apologize she would never know because Mel chose that moment to whisk back through the door.

      “Need anything else, boss?” He gave her his usual warm smile while handing her Phillip Ormiston’s file.

      “Not right now. Thank you.”

      A faint beep sounded. Mel angled his left wrist, pushed a button on his watch. “I’ll need to leave in fifteen minutes.” He slid Jake a look before his gaze resettled on Nicole. “I could reschedule the appointment if you need me here.”

      “Nonsense,” she stated. “Edna needs to see her doctor. In fact, why don’t you leave now so you won’t be rushed?”

      “If you’re sure.”

      “I’m sure.”

      “Leave the tray. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

      Jake waited until Mel closed the door behind him, then said, “My bet is your eager-as-a-puppy assistant is on the sunny side of twenty.”

      “He turns twenty-one next month,” Nicole replied. “Mel’s two semesters from getting a degree in marketing. He works here full-time and takes care of his mother—she has severe diabetes and arthritis. Her prognosis isn’t good,” Nicole added, feeling a tug of worry over the increasingly frail woman. “Mel has a lot of responsibility, but he never complains. He does a wonderful job and he isn’t afraid of long hours. I consider the day he answered my ad for help one of the luckiest in my life.”

      “Well, there’s a glowing recommendation.”

      “Trust me, Sergeant, Mel has earned every word.”

      Jake’s gaze dropped to the file she’d placed on her lap. “The M.E. called this morning with a cause of death on Ormiston.”

      With the change of subject, her hands became so unsteady that she replaced the china cup on its saucer. “It wasn’t a heart attack, was it?”

      “No. Someone gave your client an injection that paralyzed his lungs. He basically suffocated to death.”

      “Poor Phillip.” She spoke quietly, feeling the blood drain from her face when a dizzying realization set in. “It wasn’t something in the muffins, then?”

      Jake angled his head. “They’re at our lab for analysis. But, no, the M.E. doesn’t think the muffins had anything to do with Ormiston’s death. Even if they did, the bakery verifies your story. Mel called and placed the order, had the muffins delivered to Ormiston’s office.”

      She nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t inject Phillip with whatever it was that killed him.”

      One corner of Jake’s mouth lifted. “Here’s a tip. Don’t point out things like that to a homicide cop.”

      She gave him a thin smile. “I’m sure you’ve already thought of that.”

      “Everyone’s a potential suspect, until I can prove them innocent. In fact, why don’t you tell me where you were yesterday afternoon so we can get that out of the way?”

      Nicole shifted on the love seat’s cushions. Logically, she understood why Jake had to ask the question. Still, that didn’t

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