“I tried it with her,” he growls. “It didn’t work out. I tried it with a lot of girls—a lot—but none of them…” He pounds his fist on the wall and the fresh plaster gives way, leaving a gaping hole. “None of them were you. None of them made me feel the way you made me feel.”

“But then what’s the problem?”

He scrubs his hand over his face. “Last time was too fast, too intense. Overwhelming. You pushed me away and I went. This time I want to take it slow. Do things different. Make sure it’s right. I just…when I’m with you…it’s so damn hard.”

Humiliation hardens my heart. “Why waste your effort? I’m the same person I was. Nothing is going to change.”

Before I can say anything else, he brushes a kiss over my forehead and then pulls open the door. “It already has.”

***

Sandy and I manage to have a civilized meeting after Jake leaves. I try not to think about how he left me hanging or why I’m wasting time and energy on a man who has an agenda that involves not having sex.

As we exit my office, I catch sight of Ray, now ensconced on my new Farnsworth & Tillman–style couch, his shoes up on my new glass coffee table.

I blink. Ray nods and says, “Hey,” as if he hangs out in my office every day, drinking my coffee, scuffing my table, and reading my newspapers.

Sandy’s head snaps in his direction and she sucks in a breath. Ray stares at her. She stares at Ray. Penny and I exchange a glance.

“Tell me again what he’s doing here.” I keep my voice to a low, discreet hiss.

“You need an investigator.”

“Not him. He works for Farnsworth. He has a conflict.”

I clear my throat to draw Ray’s attention, but he’s still entranced by the fair Sandy and she by him. I have to admit, she is looking especially gorgeous today with her long, blond hair fanning over her shoulders and a jaunty tan beret perched on her head. Of course, no one could look bad carrying a $10,000 handbag or wearing $2,000 shoes.

“He says it isn’t a problem,” Penny whispers.

“Well, it’s a problem to me.” I give Ray a cold smile. “Um. Ray? Could I talk to you for a second?”

He tears his gaze away from Sandy and gives me a wink. “Sure thing. Just catching up with Pen. Nice to see you out on your own and already gettin’ clients.” With a nod at Sandy, Ray shifts his long, lithe body on the couch and crosses his ankles. Not the pose of a man about to get up and do my bidding, but who am I to complain? Even I am not immune to his chiseled good looks and hard-body charm. He is looking particularly commando today: buzz cut, army fatigues, black boots, grizzled chin, and a mysterious bulge on his side that looks suspiciously like a weapon. But what would a PI be doing with a weapon?

Since he doesn’t seem to have taken the hint that I want to talk to him in private, I try another tactic. “So, what can I do for you, Ray?”

“Heard you have some investigation work. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it done.”

I glance at Sandy and then back to Ray. “Don’t you have another…employer? Someone who can actually pay what you’re worth? Someone who might be upset to find out you’re doing contract work for me?”

“Nope.” He smiles at Sandy. “You got a case?”

“Yes.” Her tiny voice is so unlike her usual full-throated fight scream, I almost can’t believe it’s coming from her.

“Amanda tell you if you need a PI on it?”

Her cheeks brighten. “Yes. I told her to hire the best.”

Ray gives a satisfied grunt. “Right. I’m hired. Your client wants me, Amanda. Looks like we’ll be working together again.”

I give an indignant sniff as Sandy waves good-bye and heads out the door. “Direct as always. I see you haven’t changed. Did Penny mention I can’t pay you?”

“I’m here—means I’ve changed,” he says brusquely. “And I’m not worried about pay.”

“How nice no one needs to worry about getting paid,” I mutter as I head to my office. “I’m definitely in the wrong profession.”

“Hey, Amanda,” Ray yells as I push open my door.

Turning, I raise an eyebrow. “Check out the décor. This is a law firm, Ray. We don’t yell or raise our voices here. Also, we don’t put our shoes on the table. Pretend you’re at Farnsworth & Tillman. Act accordingly.”

Ray snorts a laugh. “You want this to be a mini Farnsworth & Tillman? Take a look around, sweetheart. This house is made for comfort and relaxation. It’s a place to loosen up. Be yourself. Are you really Farnsworth & Tillman or are you something more?”

More than Farnsworth & Tillman? They are the top of the top. La crème de la crème. The firm every law student wanted to join. My father gave me a rare pat on the head when I showed him my offer letter. How can there be more?

“I want it to be professional.”

“Yeah?” Ray bounces on the couch. “Nothing professional about making your clients sit on an uncomfortable couch. This couch…hard as nails. I saw a nice couch in the hallway. Flowers and birds and garden-type things all over it. Lotsa cushions, although a bit beat up. I’m thinking you should swap these out and bring it in. You want, I’ll do that for you.”

“Law firm. Not lounge,” I snap. “I need to project a professional image.”