Nick gave me the I’m-not-very-happy-with-you face when I arrived back home.
“I thought we agreed you needed to stay home and rest,” he said.
“You agreed. I didn’t.”
He scowled the way any man did when they didn’t like the answer they’d just been given.
“I’m sorry; I needed to visit with someone. It was important.”
“I called your cell,” he said, “several times.”
Lord Berkeley bolted around the corner. I knelt down and scooped him up.
“I lost service in the canyon,” I said. “My phone doesn’t show you called.”
“You need rest.”
“I’ll go straight to bed if it makes you happy.”
“I’m being serious, Sloane. You’re in no condition to be out running around when some lunatic is after you.”
“We don’t know anyone is after me. I’m not dead; maybe they wanted the files. And I’m not a child; I don’t need to be parented by you or anyone else.”
He wasn’t amused.
“I got the message,” I said. “Pajama time it is.”
I changed into a tank top and flannel bottoms. When I walked back into the kitchen, Nick stood in front of the pantry, a can of soup in each hand.
“What will it be then,” he said, “chicken noodle or creamy chicken with rice?”
“Neither.”
“Don’t turn your nose up at me, woman.” He reached into a brown paper sack sitting on a shelf next to the fridge. “Well then, how about some sweet and sour chicken?”
“I thought I smelled something good.”
Nick dangled one of the containers in front of my face. “I will give you this entire box of chicken and throw in a side of sumptuous cream-filled wontons if you agree not to run off without telling me first,” he said.
The wontons looked good enough to donate a body organ for them.
“Do we have a deal?”
If I didn’t agree, I imagined Nick would find a way to monitor my every move anyway. It was far easier to relent. I did.
“Where were you?” Nick said.
“I went to see the private investigator Charlotte hired.”
“And?”
“I managed to get a little information, but not much. The guy looked more like a farmhand than a detective.”
“Neither of us got anywhere from the looks of it,” he said. “That Vicki, is ah, persuasive.”
“Let me guess, she prevailed upon you and now you’ve listed your house on the market because it just isn’t big enough, and she’s found a much more suitable property which she convinced you to make an offer on.”
“She prevailed all right, but her intentions weren’t focused on selling me a house.”
“So the fiery agent has a thing for the hunky detective?”
He ran his hand across my hair. “I have the perfect amount of fiery woman right here.”
“It was a waste of time then?”
“Not entirely. A couple agents in the office said Parker lost his temper last summer at some award dinner.”
“With Charlotte?”
He shook his head.
“Charlotte’s assistant, Bridget Peters.”