No Regrets

He shook his head. “Nope. Turns out the problem wasn’t really my job—it was her boyfriend who’d lost his job and wanted to move in with her.”

She winced. “Ouch.”

The waitress delivered their order. The salad looked delicious. “Why didn’t you go back to your old job when things didn’t work out with your wife?”

He poured ketchup over his fries. “By then I kind of liked the P.I. business. No office politics, make your own hours. It was a good fit for me.”

“Okay, then why Denver?”

He shrugged. “I knew a few people up here. The climate’s good. It seemed like a good place to start over.”

She nodded. “I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to stay in Houston.”

“Your turn. Why did you quit Culpepper and Piper and come to work for a one-man detective agency?”

She speared an olive on her fork and swiped it through a pool of dressing. “Kind of like you, I guess. I’m starting my life over.”

He paused, the burger halfway to his lips. “Divorce?”

“Another D word—death.”

He set down the burger and stared at her. “Run that one by me again?”

She laughed. “I didn’t really die, but almost. I lost control of my car on an icy road and went over an embankment. Apparently I was in a coma for a week. Then I was in rehab for almost six months. When I was finally well I promised myself I was going to live the kind of life I’d always wanted to live. Instead of dreaming about things I’d do ‘one day,’ I was going to do them now.”

“What kind of things?”

“Getting a different job, for one. A new wardrobe. Trying new things. I signed up for a Spanish class at Red Rocks. I want to go to Spain, and lots of other places. I want to learn gourmet cooking.”

“That’s a lot of stuff.”

“There’s more. I actually made a list of one hundred things I intend to do.”

“You wrote them down?”

She nodded. “I have them all in a red leather notebook in my purse.”

“You sound pretty determined.”

“Oh, I am.” Their eyes met, and she felt the electricity between them again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this attracted to a man.

The fact that he was her boss made things a little complicated, but it wasn’t as if this was a big company where one or both of them could fall prey to office gossips or even legal entanglements. It was just the two of them, in the office together every day. Anything could happen with that kind of intimacy.

Was that good or bad? The old Lexie would have thought it was bad.

She smiled to herself and finished the last of her salad. Right now, she thought, maybe it was a very good thing indeed.

2

NICK LEANED BACK in his desk chair and admired the view through his open office door. Lexie was doing something with the fax machine, bent over at the waist with her back to him, presenting an enticing view of her rounded backside and long legs. Today she was wearing a black knit dress, belted at the waist, a black-and-white scarf knotted at her throat. She must collect scarves the way some women bought shoes. She’d worn a different one every day this week.

She bent farther over the fax and his eyes traced a line over the curve of her bottom, down her thighs. His fingers curled against his palm as he imagined stroking her there. He was getting a hard-on watching her like this; he felt like a cross between a horny teenager and a twisted voyeur. Every day when he left work he told himself he was going to go out and find a woman and let off some of this sexual steam. Unfortunately, no woman he’d seen lately turned him on the way the one working in his office did, which left him where he’d started—watching and wanting and not doing a damn thing about it.

He told himself he ought to close the door so he could get some work done, but he was enjoying himself too much at the moment.

Hiring Lexie was one of the best decisions he’d made in a long while. She was efficient and intelligent as well as good-looking and sexy. And she was good company, pleasant and easy to be around. He looked forward to coming to the office every morning, knowing he’d see her.

Of course, having her around did interfere with his work to a certain extent. His mind might be determined to focus on the job, but when Lexie was around his body invariably reminded him that he was a healthy man who’d been alone for a while now.

Much as he was tempted to start something with her, he knew it was a bad idea to mix business with pleasure. He’d settled on the unsatisfactory compromise of admiring her when she wasn’t looking, and keeping his distance otherwise.

He doubted she’d stay with him long anyway, not with all her talk about wanting more adventure in her life. He’d been like that himself once, when he’d first joined the police force. He’d gotten over that restlessness soon enough. Now he wanted to be settled somewhere, taking comfort in the everyday routine. He hoped Denver was going to be his home for a long time but it was too soon to tell.

The front door opened and a well-dressed man entered. Lexie greeted him with one of her hundred-watt smiles, leaving the man with a slightly dazed expression on his face. He followed her toward Nick’s office, clearly mesmerized.

Nick straightened and faked interest in the paperwork spread out on his desk. “Mr. Delaney, Mr. Wittier is here to see you.”

Stan Wittier, executive vice president of Carruthers Manufacturing, looked much less imposing in person than he’d sounded on the phone. When Nick stood to greet him, he noticed he was a good six inches taller than the executive, who was a slight man with thinning brown hair and worry lines across his forehead. “Please sit down, Mr. Wittier. Would you like some coffee?”

“Your secretary already offered, but it isn’t necessary.” He turned to watch Lexie leave, only facing Nick again when the door was closed. He looked disappointed to see her go. Nick didn’t blame him.

He sat at his desk again. “On the phone you indicated you wanted to see me because of concerns about your wife?”

Wittier nodded. “Yes. I believe she’s being unfaithful.”

“What makes you believe this?”

The frown lines deepened. “Ellen is a very beautiful woman, some years younger than myself. Lately I’ve had a sense that she’s restless and bored. In my experience that is a sure sign a woman is considering an affair.”

Nick found this an odd choice of words. “Considering, or involved?”

“By now I’m sure she’s involved. It’s a familiar pattern.” Wittier crossed his legs and leaned toward Nick. “I’ve seen it in my first wife and in the wives of my two business partners. Women reach a certain age and become dissatisfied with their lives. An affair seems to be the answer.”

The theory was new to Nick but maybe Wittier was on to something. Maybe the problem in Nick’s own marriage hadn’t been him or his job at all. Maybe his wife merely had reached “a certain age.” “And you want me to verify if your suspicions are true?”

“Yes.” Wittier straightened. “I want to find out now and divorce before too much damage is done to my reputation.”

“Of course.” Nick took out a notebook and pen, prepared to write down the particulars. He loathed these kind of cases, but accepted they were the bread and butter of the P.I. business. “You say your wife’s name is Ellen?”

“Yes. I’ve brought her picture, and a copy of her engagement calendar for the next month, as well as my own schedule.” Wittier took these items from his briefcase.

The man’s preparedness surprised Nick. “Have you had your wife followed before?”

“My first wife. As I told you, this is a familiar pattern to me.”

Wittier’s coldness repelled Nick but he didn’t have to like people to take their money. Sometimes the dislike even made it easier. “I’ll need a deposit. I work on a per diem for this sort of thing, plus any unusual expenses, such as travel. I’ll provide an itemized accounting to you. If your suspicions are true, it shouldn’t take more than a few days to confirm them.”

“I’m familiar with how this works and I’m prepared to write you a check today.”