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  She let him take the lead, because with his broad shoulders it was easier that way. After a few blocks, the traffic grew lighter. Wanting to let the other couple gain some distance, she and Nathan stopped in front of a shop window. On display were the tackiest bras, garter belts and fishnet stockings she had ever seen.

  “Who wears that stuff?”

  Nathan cocked his head in contemplation. “Not your style, huh?”

  “Hardly.” She pulled on his arm. “Okay, let’s get moving. They just crossed the street and turned up Madison.”

  Nathan accelerated, still keeping a firm hold on her hand. “How do you move so quickly with those heels?”

  “Not without pain, let me assure you.” She made another mental note to herself to invest in comfortable shoes next time. The black boots she’d worn as a cop hadn’t made much of a fashion statement, but she could run the hundred-yard dash in them, no problem.

  They were nearing the corner when Lindsay spotted their marks again. Maurice was raising his arm in the air…

  “They’re hailing a cab,” Nathan realized in the same instant that she did.

  Lindsay made note of the black numbers on the back of their yellow cab, while Nathan stepped out to the street, practically risking his neck to grab one for them, too. Soon they were huddled together in the backseat.

  “We’re headed for the same place they are,” Lindsay said, giving the driver the number she’d just memorized. Once they’d left midtown behind, they made better time and about twenty minutes later they were stopped a half block away from a stone-fronted apartment building on the Upper East Side, just south of the Guggenheim.

  Maurice and Paige emerged from their taxi onto the street.

  “Wait here a bit,” Lindsay instructed the driver. She and Nathan watched as the couple went inside. About three minutes later lights went on in the windows of the penthouse apartment.

  “There we have it,” Nathan said in a low voice. “We’ve found the love nest.”

  Lindsay made note of the exact address and then instructed the driver to take them home.

  With typical New York City disinterest, the driver didn’t ask any questions. He just did as asked and turned the car in the direction of the park. A minute later the vehicle was gliding smoothly through the dark.

  Lindsay was suddenly aware of Nathan’s arm around her shoulders. She felt his chin brush the side of her head as he leaned even closer.

  “You smell as good as you look,” he told her.

  “Stop the act already. We’re done working for tonight.” She slid to the far side of the seat, then pulled off her wig and shook out her hair.

  “Damn, but these things are hot.” She knew Nathan was watching as she ran her fingers through her hair, and she found that unexpectedly exciting. Pressing her lips together, she did her best to ignore the burn of attraction.

  Nothing has changed, she told herself. He was just mocking me. This isn’t really a date.

  “We’ll have the driver drop you off at your place first.” Nathan leaned forward to give the instructions but she interrupted.

  “Actually, I was planning to stop in at the office.”

  “Lindsay, it’s eleven o’clock. What do you need to do now that you can’t do in the morning?”

  “A lot of things. You know I like working at night. Have the driver drop you home first, if you prefer.”

  “Like hell I’m going home. And we’re not going to the office, either. I assume you want to find out more about this Paige Stevens. Do you have a computer at your place?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Let’s go there, then.”

  She was prepared to argue, but he’d already given her address to the driver and suddenly she was just too tired. She’d been up early for the meeting with Maurice Burchard and the one good thing about going to her apartment rather than the office was that she’d be able to change out of this constricting dress and ditch the heels.

  Besides, she didn’t keep any alcohol at the office.

  “Don’t think you’re going to get your way this easily all the time.”

  “This was easy? Girl, you kill me.”

  LINDSAY OPENED HER FRONT DOOR and flicked on the hall light. “Come on in,” she invited Nathan. With relief, she kicked off her heels, then hung her wig on a peg of her coatrack.

  She headed down the hall, turned on the kitchen light. “Do you know how to mix a paralyzer?”

  “I used to be a bartender.”

  “Really?” She did not see him as the type, at all.

  “Paid my way through college.”

  “Funny. That’s what I did, too. Anyway, everything you’ll need is in the fridge. I’m going to change. I’ll be right back.”

  “Need help with the zipper?”

  He was standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame, the other loosening his tie. He looked sexy, there was no other word to describe it. She turned away abruptly. “As if.”

  In her bedroom, though, she did struggle with the damn thing, and ended up tearing the fabric of her dress a little. She shimmied the rest of the way out of the garment, then released the hooks on her strapless bra.

  “Your drink is ready,” Nathan called from the kitchen.

  She opened the bedroom door a crack. “I’ll be right out. The computer is on the desk in the living room if you want to get started without me.”

  She sighed with relief as she pulled on the comfy clothes she usually wore for yoga. After giving her hair a good brushing to rid herself of the itchy feeling from wearing the wig, she joined Nathan in the living room.

  He was already sitting at the desk, typing rapidly, focus intent on the screen. Nathan was an expert when it came to the computer. If there was any information to be gained about Paige Stevens on the Web, he’d find it.

  Her drink was waiting on the table next to the sofa. She settled into the cushions, then took a sip. “You didn’t mix one for yourself?”

  “No,” he said, his tone absentminded. “I had enough wine at the restaurant.”

  He’d had maybe two glasses over the course of the entire evening. Lindsay knew she’d drunk more than that, and wondered if he’d kept track.

  “Need any help?” she asked. “I’m feeling kind of lazy, here.”

  “You relax. I’ll let you know if I find anything illuminating. By the way…” his fingers still clattered on the keys “…interesting photos on your fridge. Is that your sister?”

  “Yes.” Her stomach tightened reflexively, the way it always did when someone asked questions about her family. But she should have seen this one coming. Why didn’t she keep her photos in an album, instead of tacked to the front of her refrigerator?

  “What firm does she work for?”

  “Livingstone and Fagan. She throws a lot of work my way. You’re sure to meet her, eventually.”

  “I’d like that. Judging by those photos you and your sister have traveled to some exciting places.”

  “We’re on a quest to visit all seven continents. It’s our Christmas tradition.”

  “What about trimming the tree and turkey dinner?”

  “Not our style.”

  He swiveled in the chair to look at her. She kept her face expressionless, and his glance fell to the empty glass on the table.

  “You finished that quickly.”

  “Are you judging me?”

  “Not at all. Just wondering if you’d like a refill.”

  His calm response made her suspicious. Still, when she nodded, he picked up her glass, returned to the kitchen and came back less than a minute later with a fresh drink. After setting it on the table, he returned to the computer.

  “Is your printer connected?”

  “Sure. What have you found?”

  “The real estate office where Paige Stevens works has a Web site. Seems like her specialty is commercial real estate. She’s listed as one of their top agents. I’m printing out the address and phone number.”

 
Lindsay took a long swallow of her drink, then closed her eyes, savoring the sensation. “This is good, Fisher.”

  He didn’t acknowledge the compliment. “Maybe Burchard met Stevens over a real estate deal.”

  “That sounds logical.” Lindsay put up her feet and took another swallow. “Tomorrow I should pretend to be in the market for a new location for my business and see what I can learn from her coworkers. Oh, and we need to talk to her neighbors in the apartment complex. And the doorman. Maybe they can give us an idea how long this affair has been going on.”

  Lindsay polished off her drink and wondered if she dared ask Nathan to make her another. She’d get up and do it herself, only she was feeling really, really comfortable right now. She slid down the sofa a little, until her head was resting on one of the pillows.

  “Interesting,” Nathan said. “Guess who owns the love-nest apartment building?”

  She was floating on a lovely cloud of dulled sensation, yet still she managed to connect the dots. “Maurice Burchard?”

  “Exactly, right. He bought it about five months ago. Borrowed a lot of money to do it, too.”

  “What a jerk. He didn’t even have the guts to come clean with his wife on why he wanted a divorce.”

  “It sucks for Audrey, but it’s good for her case. The fact that she didn’t know about the affair will make her more sympathetic to the judge and jury. We’re finally getting somewhere on this case, Fox.”

  Those were the last words Lindsay heard as she drifted smoothly into sleep that, for once, did not elude her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LINDSAY WAS SNORING. Not loud, obnoxious snoring but a gentle rumble that he found quite endearing. Nathan shut down the computer and went to check on her. She’d had a lot to drink tonight, but then it seemed she had a lot to drink every night.

  She looked different with her face relaxed. Softer. Younger. He knew she wouldn’t appreciate being watched like this, though—she guarded her vulnerability at all costs—and so he turned around, looking for a blanket.

  Finding nothing in the living room, he checked the bedroom. Lindsay’s bed was unmade. The unholy mess spoke of hours spent tossing and turning. He untangled one of the blankets and was on his way out of the room, when two photos on the bureau caught his attention.

  He shouldn’t snoop, he knew it was wrong, yet he couldn’t resist a quick look. One photo showed a woman in her late twenties. She had Lindsay’s smooth, translucent skin and the sort of big blond curls that were popular in the eighties. Figuring that this must be a picture of her mother, it followed that the photo of the man right next to it must be her father.

  Here Nathan saw a man with Lindsay’s pale blue eyes—not quite as haunted as hers, but still troubled. Draped over the picture frame was an Air Force Medal of Honor—for service in the Vietnam War, he presumed.

  Intrigued by this glimpse at Lindsay’s heritage, Nathan returned to the living room where he gently covered her with the blanket. Resisting the urge to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, he picked up her empty glass and carried it to the kitchen. Rather than place it into a dishwasher that he suspected was rarely used, he washed the glass by hand and replaced it in the cupboard.

  The photos on the fridge caught his attention again. There was a family resemblance between the sisters, but Meg’s features were softer, he supposed some would say prettier. Together they had been photographed at the lip of a volcanic crater, at the top of a snow-covered mountain, standing at the prow of a sailboat and in a Jeep on safari.

  In every picture, no exception, the sisters had their arms entwined, heads inclined toward one another. The closeness of their relationship was very evident.

  He wondered if their decision to travel every Christmas had been made for practical reasons, or because they wanted to avoid the holiday and all it represented.

  After their mother had died, Christmas had been hard for him and Mary-Beth, too. Justin’s arrival had changed all that, given the holiday new meaning.

  Nathan slipped the door key off the ring Lindsay had tossed on the kitchen counter. Once he’d securely locked the dead bolt, he’d slip her key back under her door.

  He turned out all the lights, saving the one by the front door for last. Just as he was pressing down on the switch, he heard a faint voice from the living room.

  “Leave the hall light on, please.”

  “Lindsay?”

  No answer. She’d fallen back asleep.

  IT WAS ALMOST ONE IN THE morning when Nathan finally made it home. He was surprised to find Mary-Beth awake, watching a rerun of Grey’s Anatomy.

  “Don’t tell me Justin isn’t sleeping again?” He locked the door behind himself, then hung his jacket in the closet.

  “No. This time I’m the one with the sleeping problem.” She gave him a weary smile, then clicked off the television.

  “I seem to be surrounded by insomniacs lately.”

  “Oh? Who else?”

  “This woman I’m working with.”

  “Lindsay Fox?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “You get this funny look on your face whenever you talk about her. Like you’re trying really hard to act like she isn’t important to you.”

  “I work with her, so obviously she’s important to me.”

  “Right.” Mary-Beth smiled. “So why can’t she sleep?”

  “I’m guessing it has something to do with her family. She’s close to her sister, but they lost their parents and it must have been traumatic. She won’t talk about it.”

  Mary-Beth’s face softened with sympathy. “Did they pass away recently? I couldn’t sleep for months after Mom’s accident.”

  “I’m not sure,” he admitted. He ruffled his sister’s messy curls. “And what about you? What’s your excuse?”

  “I’m worried about Justin. About his future. I’m having trouble letting go of my dreams for what his life was supposed to be like. I wanted it to be storybook perfect for him, like it was for us.”

  “Our childhood was not storybook perfect. Have you forgotten what a bad cook Mom was? And those endless, boring stories Dad would tell on long car rides?” He stopped, looked at the longing expression on Mary-Beth’s face, and sighed. “Actually, it came pretty damn close to perfect, didn’t it?”

  “We were lucky.”

  “We didn’t know it at the time. But yeah. We were damn lucky. At least until the fire.”

  “Yes, but we were old enough to remember our father. Justin won’t have those sorts of memories since work seems to be the only thing that matters to Logan.”

  “Is that why you two split up?”

  Mary Beth pressed her lips together and nodded. “Now there’s just me for my son and how can I possibly be enough?”

  Before he could give her an answer, she held up her hand to stop him. “I know you plan to be in Justin’s life as much as you can. And that will be wonderful. But we can’t live with you forever and having an uncle won’t be the same as having a dad.”

  “Whoa, Mary-Beth. Why assume the worst? You could still meet a great guy. Or Logan might come to his senses.”

  “Not likely. He phoned me today with big news. He’s accepted a job transfer to London, England.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. He didn’t ask if we wanted to come along.”

  “I’m sorry, sis.”

  “In a way it’s good. I realize I’ve been living in limbo the last while, afraid to make new plans in case Logan and I got back together. Now I know that we won’t.”

  “That guy must be crazy to be walking out on you two.” It was hard not to be angry, on Mary-Beth’s behalf. She deserved better than this.

  “Well, it’s his life. Now I need to do what’s right for Justin and me. I’ve been looking at apartments and they’re very expensive.”

  “Hey. You don’t need to move out of this one.”

  “It’s small for two adults and a child,” she said. “And you need your privacy.”


  “Mary-Beth—”

  “Don’t worry. Justin and I won’t be out on the street. There’s a woman I teach with—her name is June Stone. She’s quite a bit older than me, very bright, a lovely woman, but she’s not well. She has a lead on a rent-controlled co-op in her building. Tomorrow I’m going to take a look.”

  “This is really out of the blue, sis.”

  “I know. I haven’t decided for sure, but I’m seriously thinking about it. And I wanted to tell you.”

  He waited to see if this time she’d fill in more blanks, but all she did was yawn.

  “Maybe I’ll try to sleep again. Morning comes quickly when you have a two-year-old.”

  “Good idea.”

  She started for the stairs, then looked back at him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You were out late tonight.”

  “Surveillance,” he reminded her.

  “With Lindsay?”

  He groaned. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do need a little more privacy around here.”

  LINDSAY DIDN’T ENJOY the luxury of sleeping through the night very often. She stretched until her toes reached the edge of the sofa, then snuggled back into the blanket Nathan must have covered her with last night.

  He’d been here in her apartment with her. Mixing her drinks. Working on her computer. Grabbing this blanket from her bedroom.

  She swallowed, remembering the last words she’d called out to him. God, he must have laughed at the idea that she needed the hall light on.

  Only…she didn’t think he would have laughed. But he probably would have wondered. Not too many people were afraid of the dark once they’d left their childhood years behind. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She hadn’t left her childhood years behind, not really. And neither had Meg.

  She thought about her sister, about the eating disorders that had been linked to the trauma of their childhood and that made it so difficult for her sister to do such ordinary things as eat out at restaurants or travel. In fact, the only time she would consider taking a holiday was if Lindsay went with her.

  Not that Lindsay minded spending time with her sister. She loved it. She just wished, for Meg’s sake, that life could be a little easier for her.