hase emptied the last of the wine into Flynn’s glass and made a casual finger motion in the air for the waiter to bring another. His smile didn’t tink so much in the candlelight, which was a nice break, but an hour of feigning interest in golf and mutual funds was taking its toll. She glanced at her watch; she only needed to kill another forty-five minutes. She hoped that Tucker would be able to find everything he needed in that time, because that was all he was getting.

“So, we’ve been talking about me all night,” Chase said, dumping his napkin by his plate. “I want to know about you.”

“Well,” Flynn said, “it’ll be a short conversation. There isn’t much to know about me.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “You seem like a fascinating woman.”

I seem like a woman who’s standing between you and your commission.

“Not really. I’m just your average girl. I’m all about shoes, shopping, and a weekly mani-pedi.” She picked up her wineglass. “The only people less interesting than me are dead. Trust me.”

“Don’t be modest. I know you used to act. Let’s start there. Why’d you stop?”

She put her glass down. “When did I tell you about that?”

“You didn’t. I did some looking into you. You are a fascinating woman, Flynn Daly. Don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“Nope. Sure didn’t.” Tucker had been right about a small town with an Internet connection being a dangerous thing.

Chase waved one hand dismissively. “I like you, Flynn. I think we’re kindred souls. And when I like someone, I like to know more about them.”

Flynn let the kindred souls thing go, diving in on what she felt was the more important point. “So you did a background check. How romantic.”

“You make it sound so intrusive,” he said, chuckling. “I just hired a private detective, who called your friends and family and asked a few questions. It’s how I knew that you loved Italian food. Red wine. Blizzards from Dairy Queen.” He winked. “It’s all completely aboveboard.”

Flynn forced a smile and gripped a handful of the tablecloth in her fist under the table to keep herself from throwing a dinner roll at his head. “I think we might have different definitions of ‘aboveboard.’”

“Oh, come on, Flynn. Everybody does that sort of thing nowadays. At least I’m up front about it. And it’s not like I pulled up your credit report or your criminal history. I just wanted to know about your likes and dislikes. I wanted to know about the things that mattered to you.”

“And you couldn’t ask me directly because...?”

He grinned. “Because it would ruin the surprise.” He leaned to one side and pulled a small, golden box out of his pocket. It was wrapped in ornate metallic ribbon, which culminated in a big ribbon puff on the top that looked like shimmery ganglia.

“Ugh,” Flynn breathed.

“Go ahead,” Chase said, making an encouraging gesture with his hands. “Open it.”

Flynn went to the job of separating the ribbon from the box. Chase simply watched her, eyes twinkling. He’d done this before, Flynn could feel it. And based on the self- satisfied expression on his face, it had actually worked.

Good-looking and rich, she thought as she struggled with the gift. The thinking girl’s kryptonite.

Finally she gave up on being delicate, picked up her steak knife, and sawed through it, then popped the top off the box.

“Oh, my God,” she said, staring down into the box. It was a silver necklace with a pendant of two ballet shoes, each with a simple pink diamond at the toe. It looked like the kind of thing you’d give a little girl after her confirmation.

Chase leaned forward, his finger lazily indicating the gift.

“Your friend from college... what was her name? Alesia?”

“I don’t have a friend from college named Alesia,” Flynn said flatly, placing the box down on the table.

His eyebrows knit. “Whitney?”

Flynn shook her head.

He pulled an index card out of his coat pocket, then snapped his fingers and returned it. “Michelle. Anyway, she said how much you loved ballet slippers, that you had them everywhere in your dorm room. So...” He raised his eyebrows proudly, knowing the answer to his question before he even posed it. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?”

It was true; in college, she had been slightly obsessed with ballet slippers. Then during her mid-twenties crisis she and her therapist had spent ten months discovering that the ballet slipper thing was just a symbol of something she felt she’d never be able to attain, a promise she’d never be able to keep, and she had cleared out all her ballet slipper things, put them in a box, and stored them in the attic of her father’s house. To get this gift now, mere days after having finally abandoned her mother’s dream for her, felt a lot like being punched in the stomach.

And there was Chase, all big and smug, thinking he’d just made all her dreams come true.

Do I like it? What she’d like would be to wedge it up his left nostril with a rubber mallet. But that would be unladylike and ungracious.

And it wouldn’t kill the forty minutes she had left.

“You know what?” Flynn said, standing up quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

She dumped her napkin onto her seat and took off for the bathroom.

Aboveboard, my ass, she thought as she locked the door on the stall.

Can’t believe he actually investigated me, she thought as she washed her hands.

Longest night of my freakin’ life, she thought as she tossed the paper towel into the bin. She glanced in the mirror and stared at herself.

“No jury in the land would convict me,” she said out loud, then caught the reflection of something golden behind her in the mirror and her heart jumped.

“I’m sorry, I thought I was—” she said as she turned around.

But there was no one behind her. Her heart began to pound, and she felt a sheen of sweat form on the back of her neck. She put her hand over her chest and glanced in the mirror again, breathing deeply through her nose, exhaling through her mouth. She laughed at herself, but even to her own ears, the laugh sounded fake and shrill. She closed her eyes, inhaled again...

That was when it hit her. That smell... She opened her eyes wide and her heart started to pound erratically. Slowly, she breathed in again, and there it was, a light floral scent that brought with it a rush of memories and emotions so powerful and vibrant that she had to hold on to the sink to keep her balance.

Mom’s closet. A memory hit her, herself at the age of twelve, crawling into her mother’s closet, closing the door, drawing the dresses in her arms until they approximated the bulk of a person, hugging them, breathing in the light floral scent that came from the sachets her mother kept in the closet. At twelve, she’d understood the cancer and what it would bring, but it was the smell and feel of her mother’s empty dresses that conveyed what she felt—the sudden absence, the consuming grief, the aching void of loss.

Flynn opened her eyes. There were tears on her cheeks, but she couldn’t remember crying them. How long had she been there, holding on to that sink? How long...?

But it hadn’t been more than a few seconds. It had been powerful, but brief. The smell was gone, but the feeling... the ache. The loss. That was still there.

The golden glow. That was what she had seen. The glow. The same glow that she saw when Esther—

“Mom?” she whispered, feeling a lump forming in her throat. There was nothing. No glow, no sachet scent. Whatever it had been, it was gone.

“It’s just me, losing my mind in a bathroom.” She took another deep breath, staring at herself as she pulled her compact out from her purse. Her hand was shaking too much to use it, though. She leaned both hands on the sink again and closed her eyes.

Think about Tucker. Think about all the evidence he’s going to get on Chase. Think about Chase being the cell block cabana boy. Think about...

And then, there it was. Tucker’s face, smiling down at her, those soft brown eyes warming her to her core. She imagined his strong arms around her, and her heart returned to its natural rhythm. When she opened her eyes, she picked up her compact and pulled it open, hands steady. As she fixed her makeup, she deliberately chose not to think about what it meant that she was envisioning the bartender’s face to get herself through a trying moment. At the very least, it meant he was much more than just the bartender.

But she didn’t want to think about that now.

“There you are,” Chase said when she returned, half rising from his chair until she took her seat. “I was beginning to think you’d crawled out the window.”

Oh, trust me, I considered it, Flynn thought, smiling brightly at him.

“No, I just don’t believe in rushing things,” she said, settling into her chair. “So. Dessert?”

“Actually...” He leaned forward and reached for her hand. She let him hold it and resisted the urge to flick him in the forehead with her free hand. “I was thinking about maybe getting out of here. I’ve got something I’d like to show you.”

Oh, God. The last time she’d fallen for that line had been with Timmy Newton in the eighth grade, and she didn’t need a repeat of that.

“I was actually thinking dessert,” she said, extracting her hand from his and reaching for the dessert menu.

“I’m sorry,” he said, getting up. “I already paid the check. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll drive you through a Dairy Queen on the way back. We’ll get a Blizzard. It’ll be fun.”

He put his hand on the back of her chair and she had no choice but to get up. Which was okay; if his plan was to show her something that wasn’t in his pants, she could milk thirty minutes out of it. If otherwise, then his lengthy hospital stay would keep him out of his office even longer.

Win-win, she thought, starting toward the door.

“Wait now, aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, motioning toward the table, where the little golden box sat amid the ganglia of ribbon.

“Oh, yes.” She turned around and grabbed it, then motioned for him to lead the way. As she followed behind him, she dropped the stupid thing to the ground and kicked it under a table. It was a small gesture, but powerfully satisfying.

Jake dropped his head down on Chase’s desk, letting it fall on the hard surface with a resounding clunk that reverberated throughout the office, lit only by the sharp beam of his Mini Mag. He’d been in there for two hours—after sitting in the parking lot for an hour and a half waiting for Finola Scott to leave the office next door—and still hadn’t figured out the combination to Chase’s safe. He’d tried every combination he could think of from the date Chase graduated college to the first six digits of Pi.

Nothing had worked.

Finally, Jake had turned to things in the office. He’d gone through the filing cabinets, Chase’s desk, and Rhonda’s desk and had tried everything from serial numbers on the computer towers to the model number on the coffeemaker. Nothing worked. The safe also didn’t respond to kicks or insults about its mother. This was unsurprising, but Jake felt it was only appropriate to be thorough.

I have to spend four hours being nice to this jerk. Make it worth my while. Flynn’s voice chimed in his head, and Jake glanced at his watch. He’d planned to be waiting at the Arms when Chase brought Flynn home. Not in an obsessive, jealous way, but in a casual, hey-dig-how-guilty-this-asshole-is kind of way. At this rate, though, he doubted he’d be out of there much before Christmas, let alone before Flynn got back, which Jake estimated to be about another fifteen minutes or so.

Unless they stayed out late.

Or Chase tried to take her back to his place. A wave of futile fury rushed through him at the thought, and he took a moment to calm himself down. Flynn would never let that happen. She was too smart for that. Still, Jake wanted to be out of there before the date ended. He didn’t want to run the risk of Chase stopping by the office to pick something up and finding Jake there, which meant that time was running out.

“Okay,” he said, pattering his fingers on the desk blotter in front of him. “I’m Chase. I need to put a combination on a safe that I won’t forget. I’m arrogant, I’m cocky, I think I’m smarter than everyone else. What’s my combination?”

He paused, his fingers still tapping on the blotter, which shifted and knocked into the phone. As Jake reached forward to reset the blotter back, he stared at the phone. More specifically, the little piece of paper under the clear plastic rectangle that sported the direct line to his office. Jake shook his head. No one’s that cocky.

Still, it was worth a shot. Jake spun out of Chase’s office chair and went to the safe, carefully dialing in the first six digits of the direct line in pairs, and then the final digit on its own. The safe clicked and the door creaked open obediently.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered as he shut off the Mini Mag and tucked it into his back pocket. Carefully, he pulled the laptop out and slid it into the messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder. He shut the safe, set the office chair back where it was, and almost had his hand on the doorknob of the outer office when he heard a woman’s loud laugh and froze. Someone was outside the door. The venetian blinds were drawn on the windows, so he couldn’t see who it was, but he knew that laugh.

Flynn.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I being loud?” she nearly yelled. “It must be the wine. I get a little loopy.”

Then she laughed again.

A key turned in the lock, and Jake barely had time to throw himself under Rhonda’s desk before the door opened and the lights flipped on.

“You can make all the noise you want,” Chase said. “I like noise.”

Jake’s fist clenched on instinct. Flynn giggled again, but he could hear a slight bit of tension in the sigh she released afterward. Jake closed his eyes.

“So... what was it you wanted to show me?”

“Oh, just a little something...”

There were the sounds of Chase opening a filing cabinet and riffling through the files. Jake could see Flynn’s feet shuffle slightly, as though she was looking around for Jake. Finally, she leaned against the desk, and he pinched her heel gently to let her know where he was.

“Oh!” she squeaked.

“You okay?” Chase’s voice was moving closer. Jake guessed he found what he was looking for.

“Fly. Saw a fly. I’m freaked out by flies. By nature, actually. And, also, offices. Offices freak me out. I’m very odd that way. Maybe we should go?”

“In a minute.” Chase’s feet came into view, facing Flynn’s in such a way as to indicate a definite violation of personal space. Jake hoped she was reaching for her key chain. It’d be worth being discovered there if he got to witness her Macing Gordon Chase. “I wanted to show you this.”

There was a moment of silence and then Flynn said, “Wow. That’s really something.”

Jake tensed under the desk, his imagination soaring with a thousand guesses at what Chase was showing Flynn, each of them making him want to kill Chase more than the last.

“Construction’s almost finished,” Chase said, and Jake relaxed a bit. “And it looks more expensive than it really is. You’d be amazed at how cheaply you can build a mansion in Costa Rica.”

Jake could hear the tension in Flynn’s voice as she said, “Well, taking advantage of economic desperation in impoverished countries is really the way to go,” but based on Chase’s chuckle of agreement, he figured her real meaning had been lost on its target.

“Well, it’s getting late,” Flynn said. “Why don’t we just...?”

Chase’s feet moved toward Flynn’s, and then suddenly Flynn’s flew upward and out of sight. A second later, there was a thump over Jake’s head.

“Gordon,” Flynn said. “What are you...?”

Chase’s toes nearly touched Jake’s leg as he moved forward. Things were quiet for a moment, and Jake shifted himself to hear better.

“Gordon,” Flynn said finally. “I really think you should take me home.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Jake tensed, ready to spring out from under the desk and pummel Chase, but not until he was sure Flynn didn’t have control of the situation. She had self-defense. She had Mace. And if that failed, she had Jake.

She was going to be fine. Chase, however, was one half-inch from being Maced. Jake held his breath, waiting for the spritz and the screaming. There was neither, though, just a protracted silence. Chase’s feet shuffled a little more as he moved in closer, and Jake realized why everything was so quiet.

They were kissing. She was kissing him. She was...

Giving him what he wants. Getting control.

Jake clenched his fist again, and was just about to slam it into the desk when she let loose with the loudest, most unfeminine belch he’d ever heard. Chase’s feet shot backward.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, sounding flustered, but Jake caught the thread of victory in her tone. “I have this... gastrointestinal thing. It’s so embarrassing.”

A wave of relief rushed through Jake, and he had to fight not to laugh. That’s my girl.

Undeterred, Chase’s feet approached again.

“I don’t mind,” he said, although Jake noticed he wasn’t moving quite as close this time. He was still near enough to prevent her from jumping off the desk, though.

“Um, you know...” she said, her voice tense. “I really should get back. I have this medicine I have to take, and if I don’t take it soon, well... I don’t want to be indelicate but it’s gastrointestinal. You know. Like, out both ends—”

Jake wanted nothing more than to crawl out from under the desk and kiss her right then, but he stayed put. This was Flynn’s game, and he was going to let her play it.

“I really... I think I need to...”

Chase’s feet moved back and once again Flynn’s stilettos hit the ground.

“I think you should take me home,” she said. “If history serves, things are about to get really ugly.”

“Oh,” Chase said. “Of course. Absolutely. Let’s go.”

Both pairs of feet moved toward the door, Chase’s moving a little faster once Flynn let go with another burp. Jake sat tucked under the desk for another few moments, smiling.

She was a hell of a girl, that Flynn.

He listened until he heard the car leave the parking lot and moved to get up, overestimating the height of the desk and banging his head on the underside. As he reached up to feel for it, his hand landed on... duct tape? He pulled out his Mini Mag to expose a manila folder stuck to the underside of Rhonda’s desk.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Jake muttered, then tucked the Mini Mag between his teeth and went to work peeling the folder off the bottom of the desk.

Thank you, Freya, Flynn thought as she waved good-bye to Chase from her front door. Freya had come up with the whole gastrointestinal bit in college, and it had saved both of them from more than one bad date. It had been a little surprising that it took three more belches and a dry heave to finally get Chase to leave, but at least it had worked and he was gone, hopefully never to ask her out again.

Flynn closed the door and leaned her back against it, shrugging her shoulders against the tension there. The night had been overwhelming, to say the least. Between Chase’s obnoxious smarm, the stupid ballet slippers, and the horrible experience of making out with him on the desk while Tucker hid underneath, she wasn’t sure what was bothering her the most. She tried to keep her focus on these things, though, because underneath them lay her odd experience in the restaurant bathroom, and she wasn’t ready to think about that. Not yet, anyway. All she wanted to do was make some tea, go to bed, sleep unhaunted, and wake to a new day.

But then there was a knock on the door, and she had no doubt who it was.

“Go away,” she said through the door.

“No,” Tucker said back.

She sighed, turned around, and opened the door. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Tucker smiled at her. “Hear what?”

“About showing up at the office. Trust me, that was not my idea. I did the best I could, and let me tell you something: You. So. Owe. Me.”

She braced herself against him yelling at her for screwing everything up, but instead he just reached up and touched her face.

“You handled it great,” he said. “That gastrointestinal thing was brilliant. I just wish I could have seen his face.”

Oh. Okay. “So you’re not mad?”

He shrugged. “No. You saved my ass.” He lifted up the messenger bag and pulled out a manila folder with duct tape around the edges. “And if you hadn’t come in when you did, we never would have gotten this.”

Flynn blinked, staring at the folder. “What’s that?”

“I have no idea.” He shoved it back into his bag.

“I thought you went in for the laptop.”

“Yeah, I got that, too, because I’m really, really good.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling at her. “I found the folder while I was killing time under Rhonda’s desk. I’ll take a look at it tomorrow. Right now, I just wanted you to know your hard work wasn’t for nothing.”

He wasn’t upset at all that she had kissed Chase. Not that she wanted him to be upset, but part of her could have used a little contention to lean against, to distract her from the smell of her mother’s closet, which lingered in her memory as if it was still fresh on each inhale.

She forced a smile. “Okay. Great. I’m gonna go make some tea.”

She pushed past him toward the kitchen. She hadn’t spent much time in there and had no idea where the tea or the kettle was. She opened the first cabinet to her left.

Pop-Tarts. Of course.

She closed it.

The kitchen door opened behind her and she ignored it, going into the next cabinet. Some plates, some small teacups. She wanted big. She wanted a big mug of tea, an overstuffed couch, a Cary Grant movie marathon, and Freya talking over all the good parts. She wanted comfort, and normalcy, and no dead people violating the rules of her universe. Was that too much to ask?

“Flynn?” Tucker’s voice trailed in from behind her. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just making some tea. You can see yourself out. Good night.”

She opened the next cabinet. Bingo. Teakettle. She pulled it out and walked over to the sink, but just as she reached to turn the water on, Tucker’s hand clamped down over hers. He pulled her to face him, took the kettle from her hands, and set it in the sink. He reached up and touched her face, making her look at him.

“What happened?” His eyes dug into hers, and she could see the anger in them.

Finally. Thank you. Let’s fight.

His anger, though, was clearly not directed at her. “Did he do something to you? It sounded like you were in control of the situation from where I was. Flynn, if I thought for a second that he was hurting you—”

“Oh, God, no. That was fine. I mean, it wasn’t fine, it was gross, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”

He watched her with a severe expression for a moment longer, then softened. “Okay. So if it’s not Chase, what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” she said. “I’m just tired, and I want some damn tea.”

He nodded, released her hands, and reached for the teakettle.

“You go get changed, get comfortable. I’ll make the tea for you.”

“Tucker, you don’t have to—”

He angled his head to look at her and smiled, but his eyes were determined. “I’m going to. Arguing with me is only going to make it take longer. Go get comfortable.”

She sighed and left, trying to shake the tension as she washed off her makeup, let down her hair, brushed her teeth, and changed into her pajamas—not the silk ones Freya had bought her, but the roomy, flannel, and decidedly unsexy ones she’d packed for herself. She couldn’t think about the whatever that was developing between her and Tucker. She couldn’t think about anything; her nerves felt jangly and ready to pop, and she knew that if she started thinking about anything other than tea or sleep, she’d unravel.

There was a gentle knock at her bedroom door, and then Tucker poked his head in, carrying a teapot and a mug on a large silver tray. He settled it on the floor next to the bed.

“I hope you like peppermint,” he said. “Seems Esther was a fan.”

“That’s great.” Flynn nodded and crossed her arms over her stomach. She felt oddly cold, and her nerves were still on alert. “Thank you.”

Tucker took a step toward her and touched her arm. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“No,” she said quickly, and she didn’t, but when she raised her eyes to meet Tucker’s, she could see his disappointment, and she was too tired to hold up that much weight. “I saw my mother tonight.”

Tucker’s eyebrows knit. “Your mother was at the restaurant?”

“She died when I was twelve.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

She let out a heavy breath. “I went into the bathroom, and I saw this glow. It’s the same thing I see when Esther”—she searched her brain, was unable to come up with the word she was looking for, and settled—“visits. Then, I smelled my mom’s clothes. She used to use these sachets. They were unique. Kind of lavenderish, but with a hint of vanilla, and a little spicy. I don’t know.” She clenched her jaw and blinked her eyes against the emotion. “I’d just... I’d forgotten how much I miss her.”

Her face went hot and tears splashed down her face as the emotion took over. A moment later Jake’s arms were around her and she leaned into him, absorbing the comfort as he ran his hands down her back and made shooshing sounds into her hair. Finally, the jangliness in her nerves gave way to calm, and she stepped away from him, swiping at her eyes.

“I swear, I never saw a dead person before coming here.” She sniffed, swiped at her eyes. “You must think I’m insane.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “But if it’s any comfort, I find insanity very sexy.”

She reached out to smack him playfully on the shoulder, but he ducked and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the bed.

“Now, I know how this looks,” he said, “but I’m just going to put you in bed and get you settled. Then I’m out of here.”

Flynn snorted. “What, is there a rule about crying women, too?”

Tucker released her hand and pulled the covers back on the bed. “As a matter of fact...”

“You’re kidding,” Flynn said, crawling gratefully into the bed.

He pulled the covers around her, sat on the bed next to her, and reached down to get her mug of tea. “Drunk women. Crying women. Women within three months of a breakup or one year of a death or divorce.” He handed her the mug with a smile. “Lucky for you, there’s no rule against cute brunette ghost magnets.”

She chuckled and sipped her tea. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a weird night. And then I had to put up with Chase—who has completely ruined Dairy Queen for me, by the way—and I thought you’d be mad at me for screwing up your investigation.” She inhaled with a stutter and was surprised to feel her eyes filling up again. Jesus. She was a case tonight.

“Hey, you didn’t screw up my investigation.” He reached for her hand and held her fingers gently in his. “You did great. You took one for the team. I’ll tell you, if it came down to it, I don’t know if I’d kiss Gordon Chase for you.”

She laughed. He lifted her fingers and touched them to his lips.

“Get some sleep. I’ll drop by your office tomorrow, we can go through the evidence and see where we are, okay?”

She tightened her hold on his fingers. “Don’t go. And I don’t mean for you to”—she stammered a bit, then smiled—“break any rules, I just...” She sighed, unable to drum up enough pride or common sense to stop herself from being honest. “You make me feel better. And I want you to stay. Just... stay. I mean, I’ll understand if you don’t want to. I know it’s asking a lot.”

“No, it’s not.”

Gratitude overwhelmed her, and she swiped at her eyes. “Really?”

He smiled as he kicked off his shoes, then crawled over her on top of the covers. He arranged pillows against the wall and sat up back against them, putting his arm out. She curled into him, resting her head against his shoulder, sipping from the mug in her hand. Jake kissed the top of her head and for the first time that night, she felt completely at peace.

“I gotta warn you, though,” he said. “Rules or no rules, I’m still a guy. Chances are fair to middlin’ that I’m gonna try to cop a feel at some point during the night.”

Flynn laughed and snuggled deeper against him. “I’d expect nothing less.”