The show was a whirl of music, but no audience interaction. Emilie felt off balance as she tried to take cues from Jordan without being obvious. Once the music started he ignored her, and during intermission he disappeared, only to return with two wine flutes. She didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t drink, so she held it without taking a sip. He didn’t seem to notice, yet she had the sense he cataloged everything she did . . . and didn’t do.
As she watched him, something niggled at her mind. There was a detail she was overlooking.
He had a comfort with and knowledge of her she didn’t share of him. She normally remembered people she had interacted with for any length of time. So how had this happened? Had he done intensive research? Even in this high-tech world, who would get a full background on a potential date? Then again, if she had multiple millions of dollars she might do the same.
But she didn’t, and the thought that he had researched her was troubling.
When she shivered in the second movement, he took her shawl and placed it around her shoulders, a finger trailing the length of her arm. She looked at him, taken aback by the intensity in his gaze. It was as if he was hungrily looking for something in her eyes.
The ride back to her town house was quiet, but he kept her firmly at his side, then walked her to the door.
She tried to put space between them, because the thought of a good-night kiss made her feel as uncomfortable as her middle school self. Jordan was handsome, but he didn’t make her feel anything . . . nothing like Reid did. She pulled out her keys. “Thank you for an enjoyable evening.”
“We should do this again.” There was an eagerness to his expression that made her hesitant to refuse outright.
“I don’t know, Jordan.”
“I’ll call you, and we can set a time.”
She stared at him, noting his heightened color.
“We’ll be perfect together.” He leaned closer to her, and her breath caught.
“I’m really busy right now.” She backed into the door and felt for the doorknob. Tested it. Unlocked. She felt a release inside. “Thank you again.”
“Don’t make me mad, Emilie.” The quietness of Jordan’s words brought her up short.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good.” He nodded to her. “Good night.” He pivoted on his heel and marched to his car.
Emilie watched until it pulled away, frozen in place.
Emilie woke up the next morning still feeling troubled. Before she got out of bed she Googled Jordan. He’d attended a local public high school before heading to college and his app success. She adjusted the pillows at her back while she thought about what little she’d learned. She could swear she’d never met him before the fund-raiser at the Haven. And now he was being courted as a top donor with instant access to Rhoda.
Could Jordan somehow be involved in the growing mess of her life? Even if it felt like a stretch, it was an idea she needed to pursue. The fact that the guy seemed very focused on her didn’t mean anything—maybe he did that with every woman he met. He had that accomplished yet stiff air that so many smart men had in relationships. It took one conversation to know he was brilliant . . . and awkward.
And much as she wanted to deny it, she had to admit there was an appeal to his attention.
With all the beautiful women in the city, why would he focus on someone like her who didn’t hit the top ten single women list?
Emilie was barely settled at her desk when Taylor appeared in her doorway, and without so much as a good morning launched into work.
“I’ve been thinking about your e-mail—about Kaylene coming once a week. Social work and counseling see clients more often than we do, but every week seems extreme.” She glanced down at the legal pad in her hand. “What made you ask about once a week?”
“Reid found a recurring note in Kaylene’s calendar. Every Thursday afternoon from four to five the girls had piano lessons in Old Town, and she had a notation for an accompanying appointment at ‘the H.’ He wondered if that could be here, but I didn’t see her anywhere near that often, even when we were actively engaged.”
“It strikes me as too often also, even if she received career counseling. I checked our corporate calendar to see if we were offering a class during that time frame, but I didn’t see anything that applied to Kaylene.”
“That was a good idea.” One she should have thought of. “What about job training?”
“I checked our database, and she received job-hunting and resume-building help, so that could explain some of the entries.”
“Maybe there’s another company or nonprofit she was going to.”
“That won’t be easy to determine.” Taylor held up a phone book. “I’ve gone through this, but with the way the communities in Northern Virginia blend together, it’s not a quick search.”
“Based on time constraints it would have to be close to Old Town, if not right here.”
“Still not easy to find.”
Emilie jotted a note on her own legal pad. “I’ll poke around some, but I agree that we’ll start by assuming she was meeting someone here.” The question remained who. She set down her pen and looked at Taylor. “New topic. What do you know about Jordan Westfall?”
“Other than he’s fabulously wealthy, hot, and a little odd? Not much.”
“Dig into his background for me, would you? Cautiously.” Emilie did not want to send signals to the man that someone was investigating him, though it seemed fair since he’d done the same to her. “He took me out to dinner and a concert at the Kennedy Center last night. I’m not sure what to think about him, but he’s an important donor. He is odd though. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“It never feels right to have a fabulous guy ask you on a date.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “If he asked me, I’d say yes in a New York minute.”
“What does that saying mean anyway? We’re not from New York, so why would we care about a New York minute?”
“I don’t know, but that doesn’t change my answer. There’s no reason to say no.”
“But there isn’t a reason to say yes.” Not all men were created equal, a truth this job highlighted in neon colors. Men like Reid were rare, and he reminded her that she could find a man who treated her like a treasure rather than a possession.
Taylor cleared her throat, and Emilie snapped back to the present.
She needed to shake distractions—like Jordan Westfall. Time was ticking away, and unless she was successful, Kinley would be irrevocably in the custody of her father. The more time that elapsed between the tragic events and a hearing, the more difficult it would be to prove to a judge there were exigent circumstances.
What she was doing wasn’t working. She had pieces of evidence, but not the key piece.