Not sure why no one questioned a slightly senile seventy-five-year-old man’s possession of a fishing rod on a bus, mind you.

Drake leans forward, his eyes pleading with me. “Precisely my point. The last time Toni was seen was Friday night leaving Melanie’s store. Her call records show a call to a number we can’t seem to trace, and if you dial hers, it goes straight to voicemail.”

“And you want me to have Carlton check every last number on those records and attempt to trace them.”

“Something like that…”

“Drake. You’re asking me to break the law.”

“No, I’m not. I’m asking you to help. How you do that is up to you, and I don’t wanna know about it.” His eyes sparkle mischievously.

Ugh. It really pisses me off when he pussyfoots around my methods that may or may not walk the tightrope that splits legal searches from illegal ones. The bastard knows exactly what he’s asking me to do.

“Fine, but you have to give him all the records and explain to him what you need. I am not your owl.” I point at him.

“You’ve been watching Harry Potter again, haven’t you?”

“Aria and Silvio made me watch it last night,” I mutter. “It’s not my fault.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He smiles slowly. Sexily.

Damn, I hate that sexy smile.

No, I don’t. One day, I’ll stop lying to myself.

“Dinner tonight?” he asks me, scooting forward on the chair and grabbing the arms.

My lips twist to the side in displeasure. “Will we be interrupted by another phone call from your ex?”

His smile drops. “Noelle…”

“What? It’s a legit question. ’Cause if so, no, we’re not having dinner tonight.”

Just because Holly Woods’ two-week-long Summer Fair starts in three days and Mayor McDougall—who was once again elected after paying his way out of the whole getting-his-daughter’s-dead-best-friend-pregnant fiasco—has assigned his assistant, and Drake’s ex-fiancée, Jessica, to head up the organization, that apparently means she can make as many unannounced calls to Drake, both on the phone and personally, and no one thinks she’s up to anything except her job.

Except me, my best friend, Bekah, and my whole family.

Nonna especially.

I’m not allowed to repeat what Nonna threatened to do to the putana with a wooden spoon and a saucepan. I’d sure pay to watch it though.

Besides, on yesterday, we’d literally just had Chinese delivered when she called. His phone, thankfully. I’d have booted her ass the hell off my property if she’d knocked on my door. To his credit, Drake did try to get rid of her, but she insisted over and over that it was important.

Long story short, his dinner went cold and I decided I was going to bed early and pretended to be asleep when he came up after me.

Honestly, I’d hoped she’d have gotten the message after we went fully public with our relationship. Alas, she still seems determined to find herself looking down the barrel of my gun.

What? I haven’t pulled it on her. Yet. Although it isn’t for a lack of wanting to.

“I’ll turn my phone off.” Drake pushes up off the chair. “And we’ll go to your place. She isn’t stupid enough to go within one hundred yards of your house. She knows you’ll shoot her.”

I glare at him as he walks around my desk toward me. My heart stutters, just a little, as he places his hands on the arms of my leather chair and leans forward. His face is barely an inch from mine, and I have the perfect view as his mouth tugs to once side in a cocky, smug smirk I want to slap right off his face.

“I love it when you get jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“You aren’t? Then what’s that little green monster popping up in your eyes?”

I stare at him defiantly. “That’s called nausea, because the thought of her makes me want to vomit.”

“God, you’re charmin’, aren’t you?”

“Only on Sundays, and only after noon and before five. You’re right on time.”

“Smartass.” He drops his lips to mine, and my eyes flutter shut as the warmth of his kiss spreads through me, beating my flash of annoyance down.

“You just keep pointing out my good qualities, don’t you?”

“You and I have different understandings of the word ‘good,’ sweetheart.”

I slap his arm as he stands. He laughs as he makes his way toward the door. Seriously, the man’s gonna drive me to total insanity one day.

“So, dinner?” he asks again, paused by the door.

“Fine,” I sigh. “As long as you tell her before that you can’t deal with her every whim until sometime next year and actually do turn your phone off.”

“Promise.” He winks and walks out of my office.

“Shut the damn door!” I yell.

He takes a few steps back then kicks it shut.

“Bastard!”

His laughter echoes as he walks down the stairs, and even though my lips turn up, I wonder if he will actually tell her to go fuck herself. Insecurity isn’t something I’m used to, as full of myself as that sounds. I’ve never really put myself in a situation where it’s necessary. It’s why I’ve been single for so long—I hate the doubtful whispers in the back of my mind and the constant weight on my shoulders.

It’s the worst feeling in the world, and I think Jessica knows it. Over the last few weeks, she’s made a point of showing up almost every time we’ve been out together. Even in Rosie’s café or just grabbing lunch together. She’s there, constantly, and for all of my confidence and ability to control my emotions, Drake Nash is the one exception to everything for me.

I huff and start up my laptop.

Still want to shoot her ass.

“What do you think?” Bek asks, clicking her pen several times in quick succession.

I snatch the pen from her hand, because good fucking God, that sound is awful. “I think he knows he’s being followed. You’re gonna have to call up Mrs. Leonard and tell her that, if she wants you to continue investigating, she’s going to need to arrange for rental cars. If not, mark it as unresolved in the records and close it.”

My best friend sighs and flicks her auburn hair over her shoulder. “I was afraid you’d say that. It’s been two weeks and he’s lost me every time. She said he’s going away for business on Wednesday, but it’s a red-eye flight, so he’s staying at the airport hotel tomorrow night. She thinks he’s lying, obviously. If I can’t get there in time, I’ll miss the last chance to catch him until next week.”

I exhale heavily. “Do you want me to follow him tomorrow? If I catch him doing the dirty, it’s case closed.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty busy right now.”

“No more than usual.” I shrug a shoulder. “I can spare a couple of hours to follow some guy to Austin’s airport.”

Bek hesitates, but she knows she doesn’t have a choice. If there is a chance to catch Mr. Leonard tomorrow, it’s worth me trying before calling his wife, possibly closing the case, and leaving her wondering for much longer.

“Sure,” she finally says. “I’ll get you his details.”

“Okay, great.” I glance at the clock at the bottom of my laptop screen. “E-mail it to me, okay? I’m supposed to be having dinner with Drake.”

She takes her pen back. “Unless you’re interrupted again, right?”

“He should have called me five minutes ago, actually. Although, given his track record on punctuality, it’ll happen in ten minutes,” I grumble.

For a cop, he really has no concept of time. Unless it’s for work. Then he’s early.

Good thing I’m getting used to it, isn’t it?

“Just call him.” Bek shrugs. “He probably has his nose stuck in a case file and thinks it’s still lunchtime or something.”

True that.

I pick up the phone and dial his office number. It rings through to the answering machine, so I switch the phone for my cell and call his. He always answers his cell.

Except when he doesn’t.