“The tea’s Siberian ginseng,” Mel pointed out.
Despite the tenseness that gripped her, Nicole fought a smile at her assistant’s expectant look. Not in any circumstance could she picture Jake Ford sipping tea out of a china cup.
“I’ll pass.”
With a shrug, Mel settled the tray holding her favorite china teapot and matching cup and saucer on the table.
“How about some coffee instead?” Mel asked. “We have several blends. Or maybe you’d prefer an espresso or latte?”
“Just the file.”
“Sparkling water?” Mel persisted.
Jake raised a dark eyebrow. “The file.”
“I’ll bring it right in.”
While Mel headed toward the door, Nicole picked up the teapot. She felt the intensity of Jake’s gaze on her while she filled her cup.
“Siberian ginseng?” he asked. “That one of Sebastian’s brews?”
“No, Mel blends all of our teas. He gets the ingredients from his uncle Zebulon, who cultivates fresh herbs as a hobby.”
Jake leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs. “Tell me something. Do you know any normal people?”
She blinked. “Normal?”
“Somebody who doesn’t know what the hell a biorhythm or yoga discipline is? One person who doesn’t give a damn if their capillaries breathe because they’re too busy loading their system with fried food and black coffee? Someone who can find a date on their own without paying to get fixed up?”
Raising the china cup to her mouth, Nicole forced herself to project an outward calm. She took pride in her work and her lifestyle, and she did not appreciate the man’s cynical attitude. However much she’d like to smash her teacup over his head, she wouldn’t do it.
“You, Sergeant,” she said coolly. “From seeing the fast-food sacks in the back of your car, I’d say you’re overly normal. Probably veering toward average. Perhaps even on the dull side.”
The instant narrowing of his eyes gave her some small sense of satisfaction. It also reminded her of how irresistibly drawn she was to his intense, dark looks…and how intrigued she was by the man.
He sat back in the chair, raised a hand. “Look, I didn’t mean—”
Whether he was about to apologize she would never know because Mel chose that moment to whisk back through the door.
“Need anything else, boss?” He gave her his usual warm smile while handing her Phillip Ormiston’s file.
“Not right now. Thank you.”
A faint beep sounded. Mel angled his left wrist, pushed a button on his watch. “I’ll need to leave in fifteen minutes.” He slid Jake a look before his gaze resettled on Nicole. “I could reschedule the appointment if you need me here.”
“Nonsense,” she stated. “Edna needs to see her doctor. In fact, why don’t you leave now so you won’t be rushed?”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Leave the tray. I’ll deal with it in the morning.”
Jake waited until Mel closed the door behind him, then said, “My bet is your eager-as-a-puppy assistant is on the sunny side of twenty.”
“He turns twenty-one next month,” Nicole replied. “Mel’s two semesters from getting a degree in marketing. He works here full-time and takes care of his mother—she has severe diabetes and arthritis. Her prognosis isn’t good,” Nicole added, feeling a tug of worry over the increasingly frail woman. “Mel has a lot of responsibility, but he never complains. He does a wonderful job and he isn’t afraid of long hours. I consider the day he answered my ad for help one of the luckiest in my life.”
“Well, there’s a glowing recommendation.”
“Trust me, Sergeant, Mel has earned every word.”
Jake’s gaze dropped to the file she’d placed on her lap. “The M.E. called this morning with a cause of death on Ormiston.”
With the change of subject, her hands became so unsteady that she replaced the china cup on its saucer. “It wasn’t a heart attack, was it?”
“No. Someone gave your client an injection that paralyzed his lungs. He basically suffocated to death.”
“Poor Phillip.” She spoke quietly, feeling the blood drain from her face when a dizzying realization set in. “It wasn’t something in the muffins, then?”
Jake angled his head. “They’re at our lab for analysis. But, no, the M.E. doesn’t think the muffins had anything to do with Ormiston’s death. Even if they did, the bakery verifies your story. Mel called and placed the order, had the muffins delivered to Ormiston’s office.”
She nodded slowly. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t inject Phillip with whatever it was that killed him.”
One corner of Jake’s mouth lifted. “Here’s a tip. Don’t point out things like that to a homicide cop.”
She gave him a thin smile. “I’m sure you’ve already thought of that.”
“Everyone’s a potential suspect, until I can prove them innocent. In fact, why don’t you tell me where you were yesterday afternoon so we can get that out of the way?”
Nicole shifted on the love seat’s cushions. Logically, she understood why Jake had to ask the question. Still, that didn’t stop a little ball of discomfort from wedging in her stomach.
“I attended a benefit luncheon at the Overholser Mansion,” she began. “After that, I drove downtown and met with my attorney about the prospect of franchising my company.”
“Met with him until when?”
“About four. I drove to my decorator’s shop where I spent an hour or so selecting fabric for drapes I’m having done.”
“Then?”
“I came back here, worked out at Sebastian’s and drove to Phillip’s house. You know the rest.”
Jake’s gaze returned to the file in her lap. “I need the names of the women you fixed Ormiston up with.”
When she hesitated, he added, “I can have a subpoena here within the hour if you have a problem giving me the information.”
“No.” She slicked her tongue over her lips. “It’s just that I promise my clients privacy. Confidentiality.”
“You promised that to Ormiston, too. If someone he met through this dating service killed him, they gave up all right to privacy.”