“Oh, no,” Ms. Aggie said, as though the idea was unthinkable. “The family is only interested in the dog as it pertains to the money.” She frowned darkly. “They don’t have a care at all for what happens to my sweet little Truffles. That’s why
I
hired you,” she added patiently, as though explaining herself to a half-wit.
Oh.
Er…did Ms. Aggie seriously not see the flaw in her logic? It didn’t matter whether the family had hired someone to find the dog because of the money or because of its well-being, they had still hired someone
to find the dog.
The motive was essentially irrelevant as long as the goal was the same.
And the family was
highly
motivated.
Had the Falcon brothers known this? Charlie wondered. Were they aware that they were representing the caretaker and not the Betterworth family? For whatever reason, she seriously doubted they’d asked for the distinction. It certainly hadn’t occurred to her.
And now not only was she going to be competing against another agent—
oh, goody
—she was going to be sharing a “base camp” with that person, as well. A dull throb began behind her left eye and she struggled to find her inner cheerleader to rah-rah herself out of this sudden funk of displeasure. She’d been here less than five minutes and already things were going to hell in a handbasket.
Not good.
But not insurmountable, she told herself.
Charlie took a fortifying breath and attempted to make her smile less fixed. “Thank you for bringing me up to speed, Ms. Aggie,” she said. But now that she knew she was working against the clock
and
against another agent, time was of the essence. “Er…when do you anticipate the arrival of the family’s representative?”
“Mr. Jay Weatherford here to see you, Ms. Aggie,” Smokey announced from the doorway.
Imaginary doom music sounded in Charlie’s head, her stomach dropped to her knees and her startled gaze instantly swung in Smokey’s direction.
“Oh, do come in!” Ms. Aggie trilled, the epitome of graciousness.
The smile that slid across Jay Weatherford’s lips was part aw-shucks, definitely sincere and unutterably sexy. It crooked endearingly at one corner, lifting just enough to make it imperfect but still intriguingly potent.
A strange flash of heat suddenly flared low in Charlie’s belly and spread like wildfire through her veins. Her breath thinned, shallowed out until she could barely feel it moving between her lips. A dull roaring buzzed in her ears and the vibrations eddied through her nipples, which ruched inexplicably behind her bra.
She was so stunned she momentarily stopped breathing altogether.
Certain that he was welcome, he ambled into the room, his gait a…
drawl
for lack of a better description. It was unhurried, loose-limbed and confident. It drew the eye to his long legs and lean hips and beautifully sculpted torso. While she didn’t imagine he spent every waking moment in the gym, he was definitely fit. The dark brown sweater he wore was loose enough to be comfortable, but still showcased enough bulk and muscle definition to make her mouth water.
But ultimately, it was his face that proved to be the most interesting.
It was rather long, his chin a smidge too sharp and his nose a bit too big. His eyes were a vivid memorable blue and fringed with curly, golden lashes. They matched his hair, she thought absently. Taken in parts there wasn’t anything remarkable about his features, but together they made up a visage that was more rugged than handsome, more arresting than attractive. It was a face that compelled the viewer to more than look—to
study
—and that quality was as enigmatic as it was inescapable.
She was riveted.
He shook Ms. Aggie’s hand and then hers—thankfully, she felt the blistering contact jar her to her mislaid senses—and continued to smile down at them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said.
For now, Charlie thought. But she seriously doubted he’d be pleased with her for long.
Impossibly, her motivation for finding the dog first had just climbed even higher. It was all she could do not to laugh maniacally and rock back on her heels because she could imagine no greater joy or satisfaction than besting Ranger Security’s newest golden boy.
The one they’d hired
instead
of her.
And, oh, to be a fly on the wall when Payne, Flanagan and McCann heard about it.
“HOW FORTUITOUS THAT you’ve just arrived,” Ms. Aggie enthused, her voice reminiscent of the Old South, where
four
was
fo-uh
and
supper
and
dinner
meant two completely different things. Her eyes were kind, her smile genuine and her hair was bright white and fluffy, putting him in mind of a dollop of whipped cream.
At her comment, the younger woman appeared to smother a snort. His gaze shifted fleetingly to her, but that minute glance was enough to make his stomach tighten and his groin contract. She had a wide forehead, large curiously mocking hazel eyes, a small stub of a nose and a mouth that was plump and pillowy and curved into a perpetual tilt. Her hair was jet black, very glossy with a pronounced widow’s peak, and it hung to just below her sharp little chin.
He was strongly reminded of a kitten he’d had as a boy, one they’d named Satan for its temper. He smothered a grin.
No doubt she wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
But she was quite striking, with her kittenish face and porn star mouth, Jay thought broodingly.
Part of the family? he wondered. Or part of the staff? He’d know soon enough, he supposed, but intuition told him the latter. Her clothes were nice, but appeared to be chosen for durability instead of fashion. She wore a pretty coral-colored cable-knit sweater that showcased a very lush pair of breasts, plain khaki pants that were quite wrinkled at the top of the thighs from sitting too long, and trendy leather lace-up boots, the kind with plenty of sole. Silver earrings dangled from her ears, a serviceable watch circled her wrist and her fingers were bare, even her nails.
If she were a Betterworth he’d eat his boxers.
“I’m glad I’ve arrived at a time that’s convenient for you, Ms. Aggie,” he said smoothly. “I believe my colleague, Brian Payne, called ahead and told you to expect me.”
“Yes, he did,” she confirmed. She gestured for them both to sit, then settled into her own chair, but before she could carry on, a woman bearing a tray of tea and sandwiches breezed into the room. The scent of roast beef suddenly permeated the air, making his mouth water. He hadn’t stopped to eat on the drive over, had preferred to stay on the road.
The woman set her burden down on a foot stool at Ms. Aggie’s feet. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked, her gaze warm.
“Oh, no, Jasmine, this is plenty. Thank you, dear.” She quirked a delicate brow at her guests. “Refreshments?”
“I believe I’ll have some tea, thank you,” the mystery woman said.
Well, if they’d gone to the trouble to put together the sandwiches, then it would be rude for him not to select a wedge or two, Jay decided magnanimously. No doubt Kitty-Cat—he cast a glance in her direction—was watching her girlish figure or some such nonsense. In his experience, women were forever concerned about their weight, demurely picking through a salad as though it was a minefield, then falling upon the dessert at the end of the meal like starved hyenas. It boggled the mind.
Jay laid a napkin across his knee and helped himself, eliciting a smiling nod of approval from his hostess. “A man with a hearty appetite,” she said. “I like that.”
From the corner of his eye he perceived the slightest tightening of Kitty-Cat’s jaw. Intriguing. Who
was
this woman? Had she eaten Bitch Bran for breakfast this morning? Or had he, somehow, without having ever met her before, managed to offend her?
He laughed softly. “
Hearty
is one way to describe it, I suppose,” he said. “My mother always said she thought I had an empty leg to fill along with my stomach.”
“Oh, I had boys,” Ms. Aggie said knowingly. “I remember how much they could eat. I used to liken them to army ants, parading through the kitchen, stripping the fridge bare.”
“Ms. Aggie, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions about Truffles’s disappearance,” Kitty-Cat quickly interjected.
Though her tone was polite, Jay detected the slightest note of impatience. She withdrew a notebook and pencil from a bag next to her chair and flipped to a new page. A reporter then? That wasn’t good. He’d been under the impression that the family hadn’t planned to alert the media, that a host of false Truffles sightings would only muddy the waters and hinder the process.
She smiled then and the transformation of her face, the mere rearrangement of muscles, was instantly breathtaking. “The sooner I can start looking for your dear pet, the sooner I can find her,” she said, her voice softening.
It was a nice voice—a bit smokey and melodic. It was so nice, in fact, that it took a moment to process the words she’d uttered in that lovely voice, but once their meaning surfaced, he was immediately confused.
And even more wary.
She
was looking for the dog? But how could that be? That’s what he was here to do. Clearly she was mistaken, but it wasn’t his place to correct her. He cast a glance at Ms. Aggie, whose smile had gone sad.
The older woman nodded. “You’re right, of course,” she said, to Jay’s amazement.
He laughed uncertainly. “With all due respect, ma’am, that’s what I’m here to do, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “That’s why I said your timing was fortuitous, dear. This way I won’t have to repeat myself.”
Though he tried to disguise his confusion, he was convinced that Kitty-Cat saw through him because, for the first time since he’d walked into the room, she looked as if she was actually enjoying herself. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite squelch her cat-who-ate-the-canary smirk. At any moment he fully expected her to hack up a few feathers.
Rather than continue to delicately mine the situation one confusing question at a time, Jay turned directly to Kitty-Cat and extended his hand. “Jay Weatherford, Ranger Security. I’ve been hired by the Betterworth family to find their abducted dog.”
Her pointy chin lifted a fraction right along with her right eyebrow. Neat trick, that. “Charlie Martin, Falcon Security. I’ve been hired by Ms. Aggie to find her beloved pet.”
She waited, presumably hoping he would ask about the redundancy of that. But if she thought he was stupid enough to point it out in front of their hostess, then Kit—er, Charlie Martin had another think coming. As the animal’s caretaker, whatever information Ms. Aggie had was bound to be considerably more significant than anything he was going to find elsewhere.
He turned and offered the older woman a conspiratorial smile. “Two heads are better than one,” he said, complimenting the logic his competition was hoping he’d fault.
She beamed at him. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “I’d hire another person, too, if I thought it would help me get my dog back. But as I explained to Ms. Martin only moments before you arrived, the family is only concerned with my dear Truffles inasmuch as the inheritance is concerned. Naturally, they weren’t happy with the terms of Goldie’s will and, to a degree, I even understand that.” Her brow knitted. “But, particularly in Goldie’s final years, that little dog—and the staff, of course—were more a family to her than anyone who shared her last name.” She frowned thoughtfully.
“When her health started failing, they began circling like vultures, with their fake concern and solicitation.” She looked up, a tinge of bitterness poisoning her smile. “They’d exhausted their trust funds, you see, and were actually having to work at the company that had afforded them their extravagant lifestyles.” Ms. Aggie paused to take a sip of her tea. “Goldie saw through them, of course. It pained her that she hadn’t a single relative who was interested in contributing to their heritage. It was her grandfather who’d started the company, you know,” she added as an aside. “Even in her sickest, weakest moments, she still managed to give the company her best effort. She worked right up until the day she died. Most people don’t know that. They just hear her name and think, ‘Oh, that’s that crazy old woman who gave her fortune to her dog.’”