On the Scent: A laugh out loud pet detective rom com!

He held up a hand. “The boys?”

“Sorry. That’s what I call the cat and dog.” She gave her dog a pat on the head before resting her hands in her lap. “Anyway, the person probably would’ve succeeded, but Costello is…quite heavy for such a short dog. Plus, he can be aggressive when he realizes something is wrong. He bit a piece of the man’s pants off before I grabbed my baseball bat and chased the guy away.”

“I see.” She was beautiful and gutsy. He liked that. “How do you know they were there for the cat and dog?”

Her fingers tugged and pulled at each other. “He’d left a ransom note on the table. It said I would be contacted about paying one million to get the animals back alive.” Her eyes glistened, but she blinked away the tears. “I called the police after making sure the boys were safe.”

He frowned. “What’d they say?”

She shrugged. “Not much. I overheard one of the officers saying to the other one, ‘What’s the big deal? Nothing was taken. It’s just a cat and dog. We’ve got better things to do with our time.’”

He rubbed at the tight muscles in his neck.

“Can you help me, Mr. Collins?”

Good question. Could he?

Hannah eased back in her chair and watched Zachary Collins closely, but if this sexy-as-sin man had known her late employer, he was doing a fine job of not giving the fact away.

His face still scrunched, he stood up and moved back to his chair. “Collins Security specializes in helping people safeguard their home. I can get one of my people to come out to your place, arrange an alarm system and teach you some safety precautions.”

Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t. Do. It. I mean, really. As if she hadn’t already tried all of that. “I came to your firm because I’m looking for more help than that.” She bit her lip. “And because I would like to hire your services as a psychic.”

There it was. The woman who thought all that supernatural mumbo jumbo was baloney wanted to hire a freaking psychic.

Good grief, had it really come to this?

She expected him to ask, “Why?” but Zachary simply sat back in his chair, rested one ankle on his opposite knee and created a triangle with his fingers. His penetrating gaze never wavered from hers.

“You want me to communicate with the animals?”

A rush of air escaped her lungs. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, wondering if she should tell him everything or stick to the story she’d rehearsed on the way over here. “Like I said, I’m familiar with the show you did several years ago, and even though your website didn’t advertise your services as a psychic, I thought —”

“—that I could get inside their heads and tell you what they want from you? Are they happy? That kind of thing?” Not exactly, but she would use the excuse. Hannah nodded.

Lord, she almost hoped he wasn’t psychic, or else he’d see right through her and know exactly why she was here.

Ellie’s attorney had relayed to Hannah a cryptic message from the will. These animals are the key to my past. Only they know the truth. When you’re ready to hear it, they’ll tell you.

O-kay. Tell her what? Better yet, tell her how?

Mixed in with the instructions Ellie had left for Hannah had also been a brief scribbled note and a clipped article from a magazine. When I die, hire this man to help you. The torn and tattered old article had been a brief story previewing an upcoming season of The Psychic Detective. A publicity shot of Zachary Collins with his thick, dark hair, square-jawed masculinity, and eyes so blue they’d reminded her of the Georgia sky on a sunny day had taken up most of the page. His charisma in print had packed such a wallop, it was easy to understand why the man had been cast in his own TV show. Who the heck cared if he was psychic or a detective? The man was gorgeous.

Hannah had assumed he was only an actor, but Zachary Collins was a legit investigator. His website announced he’d opened an agency in Atlanta a little over five years ago. Licensed, bonded, and he’d come highly recommended by the Georgia Board of Private Detectives and Security Agencies when she’d called this morning.

Okay. Psychic plus detective. Hannah wasn’t stupid. Ellie had obviously thought this guy could communicate with Abbott and Costello and—what? How had Ellie known Hannah would need protection? Because of the money?

“I was hoping you could use your, you know, psychic abilities or whatever it is you do, to help me talk to the boys. Is there anything they need to tell me?” She shrugged and tried to look sheepish as she waited to see if he’d pass her test and freak her the heck out by saying something along the lines of “Abbott said to tell you that Ellie had a detailed journal describing her life as a Mexican drug lord hidden in the floorboard of her bedroom.”

Hannah needed that kind of proof to believe this guy could read minds, furry, human or otherwise.

His cobalt eyes captured hers, and whoa mama, she practically melted in the chair from the intensity of his stare. Tugging the collar of her shirt away from her neckline, she squirmed in her seat and looked away.

“I don’t communicate with animals, Miss Dawson,” he said. “My psychic abilities aren’t specialized to pet readings.”

“I understand that.” She might as well be panning for gold when it came to figuring out why Ellie had wanted her to hire him—well, other than the old woman had lost her mind—but the only thing different about him from the other private investigators she’d researched was that he claimed to be psychic. “I’d hoped you might be persuaded to try, or perhaps you can recommend someone who does talk to animals? I’ve got the money. I can pay whatever it takes.”

“I read people, not animals, but—” He seemed to hesitate. His eyes held hers. When he finally leaned forward and turned his gaze to the dog stretched out on his office floor, the tension she’d been feeling for the past few days loosened its grip on her muscles. “I sense that they’re still grieving. They miss their former owner, but they are quite happy with you. I’d dare say grateful.” He took a deep breath. “I’m afraid there’s really not much else to tell you. Animals are pretty simple-minded creatures. People tend to think they’re much smarter than they really are.”

Oh, really? Hannah crossed her arms and studied him to see if he was feeding her a line of BS. Costello knew exactly when eight o’clock was each day without looking at a clock—it was his feeding time—and Abbott could open doors and cabinets like it was nothing.

Oh, no. This man was obviously a quack. Zachary Collins had one helluva poker face though. She snuck a look down at the bag containing the cat. Abbott had also awoken her when the person trying to kidnap Costello had been wrestling with the dog.

The cat’s yellow eyes peered up at her with a sardonic expression. Almost as if the animal was thinking, Are you buying this crap?

She focused on Zachary again. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” Smiling, Zachary leaned forward. “As I said before, I have a couple of qualified men who can help you secure your home. If you’re looking for a bodyguard to provide around-the-clock protection, I can arrange that, too.”

Around-the-clock what? Lord have mercy, that sounded expensive.

Abbott’s loud meow drew her attention. She straightened her shoulders and focused on the reason she was here. “They really aren’t telling you anything else?” Anything about Ellie I should know?

Zachary seemed to stare at the wall, his eyes unfocused and glazed. “I’m sorry. Like I said…”

“Simple-minded. Right.”

Well, crap. She was back in what-the-heck-do-I-do-now territory. How did a person find a legitimate psychic, if such a thing existed?

Costello made a low growling sound as he began to wiggle around on the carpet. The dog’s stubby paw batted at her foot playfully. His tongue lolled to one side, and he panted. So maybe Zachary Collins had a point. Still, she’d thought it might be worth a try. She’d never felt so desperate for help in her entire life, and that was really saying something.

She felt so alone in all of this.

Someone had broken into her home, after all.

“Do you think I need a bodyguard?” The thought of someone following her around twenty-four hours a day kind of creeped her out.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you involved with anyone?”

She felt her shoulders tense again. “No. Why?”

“Any friends who could stay with you?”