The Wharf

She jerked her head up and searched his face for a sign of the double entendre, but his clear green eyes, crinkling at the corners, showed only humor. All this talk of beds and sleeping had fired up her imagination again.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t want that getting around your department.” She backed away from him and swept his beer from the credenza. “Do you want to take this with you?”

“No, you can toss it.” He grabbed the package with the doll wrapped inside and tucked it under his arm. “Do you want me to send this to the lab at the SFPD? Even though my brother’s still on leave, I have connections there.”

“I’ll think about it, thanks.”

He saluted and grasped the handle of the door, pulling it open. “Good night. We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, and now we have an advantage because we’ve already met. We can get right down to business.”

“Yeah...business.”

He stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed, and Kacie let out a long breath.

That man had a way of making her feel like a siren or a femme fatale.

She fell across the bed, dangling her legs off the side. It didn’t matter how Ryan Brody made her feel. She still had a job to do, and that meant proving his father’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt.

* * *

KACIE PICKED UP the receiver of the ringing phone once and dropped it back in its cradle, further burrowing into the pillows. She could sleep another few hours, but she’d been looking forward to this day for a few years. Never mind that Ryan had sort of spoiled the occasion by being even better looking in person than in his pictures and by saving her life and then saving her sanity by taking that doll away. Never mind all that.

It was game time.

An hour later she put the finishing touches on her makeup, dabbing the excess shine from her lips. She’d dressed in one of her prison outfits—a slim skirt that hit below the knee with a matching jacket—demure, plain, nothing to draw the unwelcome attention of the convicts at Walla Walla or Ryan Brody. He’d already seen her in next to nothing, but that was the night before. This was a whole new day.

She slipped her feet into a pair of low-heeled shoes and hitched her laptop case over one shoulder and her purse over the other. She even had the restaurant picked out for lunch, unless Ryan wanted to go somewhere else. She’d let him choose.

She always let them think they had the upper hand. It had worked with Daniel Walker up until the moment her book came out and he’d realized he’d been duped.

And apparently her trickery still burned a hole in his gut.

She made it to the hotel lobby fifteen minutes early and perched on the edge of the same love seat where she’d unwrapped that doll the night before.

She hunched her shoulders against the chill rippling up her back. What kind of man would send the same kind of doll his daughter had been hugging the moment he ended her life, as a warning? A sick one. But then, she’d only come to realize that about Walker later.

Like many others, she’d been swayed by Walker’s good-looking, grief-stricken face...until she met the man.

She glanced up when the elevators across the lobby dinged open. Ryan strode through the doors and his head jerked in her direction like a heat-seeking missile.

She’d been waiting just five minutes, so he liked being early to meetings, too.

She still had the advantage of watching him approach. If everything that had happened the night before hadn’t transpired, what would her first impressions of this man be?

Tall, good-looking, built, confident, maybe a little cocky. She sucked in her lower lip. This wasn’t working. She couldn’t forget the night before—his concern, his consideration, his blatant attraction to her.

“You’re early.” He offered a handshake. “I’m Ryan Brody, Ms. Manning. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She gripped his hand. “Are you trying to press the reset button? It won’t work. I just tried it.”

He squeezed her hand and wouldn’t let go, as a smile spread across his face. “You’re right. It doesn’t work. I already know way too much about you.”

At least he had the decency to keep his eyes on her face this time, but it didn’t matter. Parts of her body tingled that didn’t have any business tingling under her proper skirt and blouse.

He finally dropped her hand, and she smoothed her palms across the front of her linen skirt. “I don’t know nearly enough about you, so I propose we get started. I made a reservation at Mezza Luna in North Beach, unless you have a preference for something else.”

He spread his arms, and the cotton of his T-shirt tightened across his chest. “I’m a little underdressed. I thought since we were old friends, we’d be going more casual.”

“You look fine.” And fine had a whole other meaning for the way his jeans hugged his muscular thighs and tight backside.

“I can run up and throw on a sports coat, even though the summer weather is finally starting to peek through the fog.”

“Mezza Luna isn’t that formal, but it’s a good place to conduct business. I like to feel like I’m dressing for work because this is my job.”

“If you’re sure they won’t kick me out.”

“I’m sure.” She pointed to the front doors of the hotel. “I called ahead for a taxi. It should be here in about five minutes.”

“I’m impressed you’re so organized after the night you had.”

She crossed her arms across her waist. “Speaking of which, where’s the doll?”

“Stashed in the closet. Are you sure you don’t want me to send it to the SFPD lab for analysis?”

“It’s not against the law to send someone a doll, is it?”

“No, but if we can link it to Walker...”

“Oh, I know it’s Walker. The ex-con told me Walker wanted to make my life a living hell, and the doll is his first shot.”

“He’s not going to have a second.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the taxi, which had just pulled up.

Somehow she believed it when he said it.

He opened the door of the taxi for her and she slid across the seat, giving the restaurant’s address to the driver.

It didn’t take him long to get there, speeding through the streets, dodging cable cars and buses and maneuvering around pedestrians. The taxi squealed to a stop in front of the restaurant, and Kacie insisted on paying.

“Tax write-off for me.”

Ryan took a detour to the men’s room, leaving Kacie to confront the unfriendly hostess, who acted as if she were guarding the gates of Fort Knox.

Kacie dug in her heels. “Our reservation is for 12:45, and I requested a specific table. I don’t think I should have to wait for that table.”

The hostess pursed her lips and tapped her pencil on her reservation book. “We have a very important person coming later, and he always likes that table.”

“Is there a problem with our reservation?” Ryan raised his brows at the hostess, his mouth turning up at one corner.