Her strategy was working. She’d come carefully groomed by design, not by accident.
After walking around the halls of Bedford High School for several hours, talking to Kathy’s friends, Megan would much rather have been sitting shoeless, eating dinner in front of her television set. Instead, she’d donned her highest pair of heels and put on a dress that was guaranteed to make every man within a three-mile radius sit up and take notice. She would have hated to think all the preparation had been for naught.
The look in his eyes told her it hadn’t.
Part of her felt as if she were playing dress-up. But men like Wichita weren’t easily distracted, and tended to guard whatever pieces of information they had rather zealously. She wanted that information, needed whatever pieces of the puzzle she could get her hands on so she could try to make sense of things.
From what she could gather out of the fragments of information she’d gotten from Kathy’s friends and a local youth coordinator, Joe Stafford hadn’t been heard from since Kathy had disappeared. But unlike Kathy’s situation, there was no one to care if Joe was missing or not.
His parents were divorced, remarried and living out of the state. Until recently, Joe had been staying with an older brother who had his hands full with his own unstable life. Nobody seemed to know where Joe was. Nobody cared. Megan found herself feeling sorry for the teenager.
She figured Kathy and Joe had gone off together; the straight-A student would never have had the courage to run away on her own. Plus, without him at her side, there would have been no reason to go anywhere.
So here she was, after putting in her full day, trying to charm whatever information she could out of a guy who looked less like a government agent than he did a woman’s ideal fantasy man.
Some other woman’s, but not hers. Megan knew that under that chiseled exterior beat a heart that was solid rock. She’d dealt with enough Garrett Wichitas in her time to have learned that.
Garrett no longer felt nearly as tired as he had upstairs in his hotel room. In fact, he was curious to know what Megan was after, and raring to go.
She had to be after something, he reasoned, dressed like that. He didn’t flatter himself to think that she was after him alone.
“Why don’t we go into the hotel restaurant?” He indicated the entrance to the right. The lighting became dimmer just beyond the opened threshold. He supposed that by some standards, it might even prove to be a romantic location. That might go along with whatever it was she thought she was planning, Garrett mused. After the day he’d put in, he could use a little entertaining. “I hear the food is rather good.”
She wasn’t really hungry, but that wasn’t the point of being here. Megan fixed an inviting smile on her face. “Sounds promising.” She let him slip his arm around her shoulders to guide her inside. The contact was oddly electric, if she thought about it. So she didn’t. Electricity also wasn’t the point of being here.
“Have you had any time to eat yet?”
Her question surprised him. It was personal—the kind of question he would have anticipated from someone’s mother, not a woman who looked as if she was out to charm the pants off him and con whatever she could out of him in the process.
On second thought, he supposed she said it to put him at ease.
“No, not yet.” He caught the hostess’s eye and nodded. The woman approached them. “Eating wasn’t high on my priority list today.”
Megan turned slowly, purposely brushing ever so slightly against him. The tingle that zipped through her was unanticipated—and momentarily distracting. It was a beat or two before she was focused again. “What was? Catching the bad guys?”
Garrett couldn’t tell if she was actually mocking him, or still playing the game. Probably the latter. “Something like that.”
After showing them to their table located in a raised portion of the restaurant and overlooking tables closer to the entrance, the hostess silently withdrew, leaving menus in her wake.
Garrett became vaguely aware that he was hungry, but his nascent appetite had nothing to do with food. He watched Megan as she slid into her seat across from him. His glance was slow and precise as it swept over her again. And doubly appreciative.
If she hadn’t known that it wasn’t possible, Megan would have said that she could feel his eyes slowly moving along her body.
It made her smile again.
“So—” Garrett opened the menu, but continued looking at her “—to what do I owe this visit?”
Following his example, she opened her menu and pretended to peruse it. “I thought maybe we could pool our information.”
Like hell she did, he thought. “Or you could ferret out mine.”
Megan raised her eyes from the menu, intrigued at what was behind his smile.
“I’m sure a smart man like you wouldn’t allow that to happen.” Pausing, she lowered her eyes again. “Unless he wanted it to.”
The smile on her lips teased one out of the corners of his own mouth. The lady was something else, all right. She probably thought of herself as a femme fatale. It would have been easier to laugh off if she wasn’t so damn attractive in that dress.
“And what—” he lowered his voice “—are you prepared to do, for me to want it to be?”
She closed the menu and held it against her, her attention riveted to him as if he was the most fascinating man in the world. A lesser man, Garrett told himself, would easily have bought into this.
“I could trade for it,” she told him.
It was a good thing he knew that she was trying to reel him in, or it might have actually happened, Garrett realized.
“What sort of trade?” Even as he asked, he could envision her in his bed, slowly peeling that dress away from every tempting swell. His mouth had become very dry. It took effort not to reach for the water glass.
“A name.”
Garrett blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was the hour, although he was more inclined to think that it was the woman, that made him wish that she had something far more intimate in mind by way of a trade. Embraces and hastily mumbled, quickly forgotten words in the heat of lovemaking had been the sort of trading he’d found himself thinking about.
“Whose name?” he asked gamely. This time, he did reach for the water glass.
The need did not go unnoticed. Megan suppressed a satisfied smile—and a definite ripple through her stomach. “Kathy’s boyfriend.”
If the revelation surprised him, he gave no indication. “The one you got out of her diary?”
He was on his toes. She would have been disappointed if he hadn’t been. “How did you know about her diary?”
Elementary, my dear Watson. “All girls that age have a diary.”
Leaning on her upturned hand, Megan looked up at him innocently. “I didn’t.”
That didn’t surprise him in the least. He was beginning to believe that there wasn’t anything typical about this woman.
“I don’t think you were ever that age, even when you were that age.”
The observation made Megan laugh. Never mind that it was true: her brother’s kidnapping had kidnapped her childhood from her as well. She liked the way he said it. “Are you trying to flatter me, Wichita?”
It was definitely the hour, he decided, but he did like the way she wrapped her tongue around his name. “Depends. How’m I doing?”
Given half a chance, and other circumstances, she might have even liked him. But they were opponents, and she couldn’t lose sight of that. He no more wanted to work with her than she wanted to work with him.
But because she was feeling charitable, she gave him his due. For the moment, she silently qualified. “So far, you’re not turning out to be your typical ugly government agent.”
As long as I tell you what you want to know, right Megan? he thought.
Because he had her number, Garrett allowed himself a moment to enjoy the game. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Good, it
was intended as one. So, do you want his name?”
“Sure, why not?” So far, checking out the girl’s school and friends had led nowhere. Especially since he’d discovered that everyone he’d talked to had talked to Megan first. It had been a little irritating, following in her shadow. He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “And what is it you want in trade?”
She met his gaze without shifting. “Tell me about Jorge Velasquez.”
He kept his expression impassive. Only a slight inflection in his voice hinted at the deeper feelings inside. “He’s slime.”
And it was personal, Megan realized. Was it just that Wichita was pitting his intellect against the major drug dealer, or was there more?
“I already know that,” she acknowledged mildly. “I also know that he’s one of the major dealers in cocaine and heroin in the affluent, under-twenty-one set.” That was it, she suddenly thought. Wichita had lost someone to Velasquez or drugs, or both. Who? A brother? Sister? Or a girlfriend?
“How is Kathy involved with him?” Megan pressed, her expression growing a little more serious. “The girl seems to be squeaky clean. None of her friends ever saw her with so much as a joint, and there’s no hint of her experimenting with drugs on her own.”
“You went through her room?” He already knew the answer to that. The lady struck him as thorough.
Megan nodded. “Clean as snow. If that girl parties on anything harder than soda pop, she does it somewhere else.”
“Or with someone else,” he pointed out.
“Joe Stafford?” It had to have been recent—very recent—or her parents would have suspected something, Megan thought. They had been completely forthcoming about their daughter’s habits, and seemed to be on top of everything else when it came to her life.
Joe Stafford. So that was the kid’s name, he thought. None of her friends had seemed to know it. They’d said that since Joe had turned up in her life, Kathy had stopped seeing her friends. It wouldn’t be the first time that a dominating boyfriend had a strong influence over a girl’s life.
Garrett nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking.”
Megan was accustomed to taking huge leaps from one clue to another. But since she had Wichita here, cooperating, she took baby steps, wanting it all spelled out. “And the tie-in with Velasquez is—?”
“He likes his runners young and naive and eager to please.” Just like Andy had been, under that thin bravado of his. “Kathy Teasdale fits all three. And in helping him, the runners suddenly become part of a glamorous world, which would otherwise be off-limits to them.” It was her turn now, Garrett thought. “What do you know about this Joe character?”
No one she questioned seemed to know very much about him—not even his brother. Only that he came and went as he pleased—having been expelled from some other high school—and paid his own way. No one was saying how he’d gotten the money to do that.
Megan hedged her answer. It always helped to keep a little back. You never knew when you could use it. “Only that her parents think he’s the reason Kathy turned on them.”
She wasn’t telling him anything new. “A boy is usually the reason good girls rebel against their parents.”
Megan smiled up into his eyes. They were blue—almost royal blue—and she’d bet they could be spellbinding if he wanted them to be. “How many good girls rebelled against theirs for you?”
She was definitely not shy and retiring, Garrett thought. And she figured she knew all the right buttons to press. But she’d miscalculated in his case. He had no vanity to appeal to. What appealed to him was honesty. And a beautiful woman. But while the former had lasting power, the latter was only transient.
Like beauty itself, he mused.
Garrett kept a straight face. “I lost count.”
Megan drew her eyes away from his full mouth, and looked at his eyes again. His mouth made her lose track of her thoughts. But his eyes told her what she wanted to know. That he was putting her on.
A good-looking man who wasn’t full of himself. Now there was a novelty. Especially since he was a good-looking man in a position of power. Usually a very lethal combination.
“Bet they didn’t,” she murmured. “Just a glass of white wine, thanks,” she told the waiter who had materialized to take her order.
Garrett asked for a French dip sandwich and a glass of red wine. He looked at her as the waiter withdrew. “Sure I can’t interest you in anything else?”
The smile was lazy as it languidly slipped over her lips. Garrett could feel himself reacting to it, even though he knew it was just part of the mental chess game they were engaged in.
“That depends.”
Garrett raised his eyebrow, waiting. “On what?”
Megan couldn’t resist. She pushed the wordplay a little further. “On what you have in mind.”
Although she knew very well just what it was that he had in mind. Because it was in her mind as well. And if things had been different, maybe...
But they weren’t, and she was on a case. And on the opposite side, probably.
He touched his tongue to his teeth, watching her face. “The night is young.”
And she bet that he could set it on fire very easily. She felt herself growing antsy. Wistful. It took effort to remember that she was going to walk away from the table and not from his bed.
She would have been lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she was tempted to take the latter course. Very, very tempted.
Megan kept her voice cool. “I thought you said you were leaving in the morning.”
“Morning is a long way off.” And he really wouldn’t mind finding her beside him when it arrived.
Garrett looked around. The restaurant was small, intimate. There were a handful of tables scattered about, and a long, elegant bar along one wall.
“Too bad there’s no music.” He wanted an excuse to hold her. It had been too long since he’d held a woman in his arms. Too long since he’d had time to enjoy himself with one.
Right now, she realized there was music. Lots of music. She could hear it clearly in her head. Megan felt herself warming.
“Music is something you carry around inside you.” She looked at him significantly.
She was barely aware of the waiter as he returned and set their drinks silently on the table. Picking up her glass, she took a sip of the wine, then looked at Garrett, waiting for his next move.
He almost rose to his feet and took her in his arms to dance, just to see if she would follow through. But then he decided against it. She’d probably just laugh at him for taking the bait.
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But if we suddenly get up and start dancing, people might think we’re crazy.”
“Or in a world of our own.” Megan slowly released the breath that she was holding. It seemed absurd that her heart was beating faster, but it was. “I’ve never concerned myself with what strangers think. I usually never see them again.”
They had a lot in common, he thought. It seemed almost a pity that they wouldn’t be getting together. But he already knew they wouldn’t—not tonight.
Garrett raised his glass to her. “You’re a rare woman, Megan Andreini.” After a sip, he set his glass down again. “Is that why you went into private investigative work?” He couldn’t see her doing anything ordinary. It wouldn’t hold her attention for long. “You have to admit, it’s not your run-of-the-mill choice for a woman.”
She didn’t answer his question or comment on his observation. She did, however, clarify it. “I specialize. I find missing children.” She avoided the word “look.” It implied the possibility of failure—a possibility she refused to entertain.
Reaching into her matching clutch purse, she took out a card and laid it in front of him on the table.
“ChildFinders, Inc.,” he read, then raised his eyes to hers. “Rings a bell.”
She was very proud of the agency and the reputation she had helped to build. “Someday, it’ll set off an entire sympho
ny.” She closed her purse. “We have a great track record.”
He turned the card over. Hers was the only name on it. “We?”
Megan took another long sip, wondering if it would somehow help deaden the tingling feeling that was taking hold. Instead, it heightened it.
“I have two partners. Sam Walters, and the man who founded the agency, Cade Townsend.” Time to push a little more. She leaned closer to him. “So you really believe that Kathy is with Velasquez?”
He wondered if she knew that when she leaned like that, he saw a great deal more of her cleavage than was first evident. He decided that she did. Megan Andreini probably never did anything that wasn’t calculated.
Which made Garrett want to find out what it felt like to have her make wild, passionate love with him.
“Yes, I do. At least,” he qualified, “she was when that tape was made.”
“Five days ago.”
Garrett nodded.
He was being honest with her. It was a pleasant surprise that she appreciated. “Seems we have a common goal. Finding Velasquez.”
He finished the rest of the wine, and wondered where the waiter was with the rest of his order. She was still looking at him with those green eyes of hers.
“No,” he contradicted, knowing that what he was saying was costing him the rest of the evening. But suddenly, he didn’t know if he could keep his perspective if he spent it with her. “We don’t. I want to find Velasquez. You want to find Kathy.”
The denial surprised her. She had thought he would play out the line a little longer. “But if they’re in the same vicinity—”
“I’ll make you a deal. When I find Velasquez, if Kathy’s still with him, I’ll make every effort to keep her safe.”
“And my part of the deal?”
He set his mouth hard. The waiter slipped in with Garrett’s order, hesitating for a second before setting it down in front of him.
“You stay out of my way,” Garrett told her. The waiter took him at his word and hurried off.
“You mean as in ‘Don’t get in front of me or I’ll tnp you?’ Or as in ‘Sit on your hands by a telephone’?”
A Forever Kind of Hero Page 4
