One Stubborn Texan

“Oh, I do. Theater, museums, subways and taxis, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty. In New York, every day’s an adventure.”

“You can find adventure here,” he said, not sure why he was trying to convince her. It was her business if she wanted to breathe pollution every day and fall asleep to the sound of sirens and horns at night. But it was best to keep her talking about her family and off the subject of his. “So where’s your mother from?”

Sydney blinked rapidly and for about half a second her face reflected a brand of deep grief Russ was pretty sure he’d never felt. He’d obviously stuck his foot in it and was searching for something to say when she spoke.

“My mother was pure Manhattan,” she said, her voice cracking. “She died a few months ago—almost a year, now. She was my father’s business partner. They formed Baines & Baines together when they were hardly more than kids.”

“Baines & Baines,” Russ murmured. “I thought you were one of the Baineses.”

“Not officially. I started out working for the family business, but then I branched out on my own. Heir-finding is fun, but it’s mostly research and phone calls. I wanted to get out in the field a bit more, so I started handling other kinds of cases and eventually set up my own office in the spare bedroom of my apartment.”

“But now you’re heir-finding again?”

“Temporarily. I’m helping out my father. Mom had the business head in the family and I’m afraid Dad has made rather a mess of things. I’m trying to get everything sorted out and keep the business on an even keel until he’s ready to take the helm again.” The note of cheerfulness she’d injected into her voice rang false.

“I’m sorry about your mom.” That wasn’t anywhere near adequate, he knew, but he wasn’t good with words or warm fuzzies. He spent too much time alone with his hound dog and with gruff Bert for company.

“No, I’m sorry,” Sydney said with a self-conscious hand to her forehead. “I didn’t mean to get sidetracked into my problems.”

“What type of cases do you handle when you’re not helping your dad?”

“A lot of security-consulting work. I have all kinds of clients—everything from mom-and-pop grocery stores to casinos. I do some insurance fraud, your garden-variety background checks on prospective employees, the occasional cheating spouse.”

“Sounds like your dad is lucky he has you to step in when he needs help.”

Sydney huffed. “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But for Dad, I’ll always be a little girl. He checks up on me every five minutes.”

And solving this case—finding the long-lost Sammy Oberlin heir—would impress the hell out of her old man. Russ could read between the lines. That was why she was pursuing the case. Well, that and the million-dollar commission.

“Why does the conversation keep turning back to me?” she asked, sounding put out. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking the questions. What can you tell me about this cousin of yours?”

If he kept changing the subject, she would get suspicious. So he gave her some of the truth. “He’s an older man. A widower. Has some kids and grandkids. His family goes back at least four generations in the Linhart area.”

“Have you ever heard of him talk about relatives in the Las Vegas area?”

“Not that I recall.” Russ needed another distraction to delay Sydney from interrogating him. Otherwise, he was going to have to lie outright to her and he didn’t want to do that. “Are you hungry?”

“After the breakfast I had at the Periwinkle? Not likely. By the way, you were right about the sweet rolls.”

“Then would you mind reaching around to the cooler behind my seat and getting a snack for me? I haven’t had lunch.”

“Okay, sure.” She unfastened her seat belt and twisted her body around so she could lean between the bucket seats. Her skirt rode up on her thigh and Russ drank in an extended, appreciative and unapologetic look. Her legs were long for such a petite woman and she definitely had good muscle tone.

“Do you want pretzels, an apple or a granola—Oh, yuck!” She pulled back and rubbed furiously at her face. “That dog is in the car. He stuck his tongue in my ear.” She sounded utterly disgusted.

With a sinking stomach Russ glanced over his shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this outing being a threesome. Sure enough, though, Nero crawled out from under a tarp in the backseat. At some point when Russ had turned his back—probably when Sydney was distracting him—the sneaky old hound had climbed into the back of the Bronco so he could come along for the ride.

Nero shoved his head between the bucket seats and madly sniffed at Sydney, who had her hands protecting her face from his inquisitive tongue.

“Nero, go lie down,” Russ said in a loud, stern voice.

The dog gave him a surprised, injured look before reluctantly retreating to the cargo area behind the backseat.

“He’s gone now,” Russ said to Sydney.

She started digging in her purse for something. “Does he go everywhere with you?”

“Most places,” Russ answered. “But today he’s a stow-away. I think he likes you.”

“Likes me? He tried to take a bite out of my ear.”

Russ looked over at Sydney’s pink shell of an ear, which certainly didn’t bear any teeth marks. “In twelve years, Nero has never bitten anyone. He’s not about to start with you. He licked your ear.” Maybe the dog liked the body lotion she used. Russ himself wasn’t immune to her delicate scent and thought that licking her ear wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

“He was tasting me,” she insisted. She’d found a moist towelette in her purse and was energetically washing the side of her face, her neck and any other place with which Nero might have come into contact.

Russ sighed and tried to drag his gaze back to the road, which wasn’t easy since she was wiping her cleavage. He was pretty sure Nero hadn’t licked there.

Still, the Nero incident was a perfect reminder. Just when he was starting to like Sydney, she gave him another reason why he shouldn’t.

“What sane person doesn’t like dogs?” he couldn’t help asking. “What’s not to like? Dogs are the ultimate embodiment of unconditional love. Even if I’ve only been gone ten minutes, Nero greets me like a long-lost friend. He lives for someone to scratch him behind the ears or give him a doggy treat. Dogs have simple needs.” Not like women, he almost added.

“You can save your breath. No private detective likes dogs.”

From the corner of his eye, Russ noted the rise and fall of her chest. His initial guess had been correct. She was afraid of dogs.

He shrugged. At least Nero’s timely show of affection had taken Sydney’s mind off Russ’s family.

“Do you still want a snack?” Sydney asked, regaining her composure.

“That’s okay. We’ll be at our destination before too long, and I’ll grab something then.”

She tugged down the hem of her short skirt and put her seat belt back on, peering over her shoulder every so often to ensure the dog remained in the cargo area.

“How come you’re so afraid?” he asked.