She called on Neil during her lunch hour. He had managed to track down the server that hosted the account the spyware had been mailing information to, but when he’d failed the security questions relating to the account, the program had tossed him out and now refused to allow him access.
Taylor studied the low-key graphics of the server, a midblue background and a message stating that the user was in breach of the security requirements.
Neil hit a button and the message dissolved. He shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I looked up a physical address for the server. It’s based in D.C.”
Despite the fact that a lot of servers had their offices based in the capital city, the mention of D.C. sent an unpleasant ripple down her spine. Taylor handed Neil another twenty. “What you’ve done is great. If I need any more help, I’ll let you know.”
The last thing she wanted was Neil walking into a dangerous situation. Most servers had prominent logos and advertising. According to Neil, this one hadn’t had anything displayed except the basic log-in menu, then the message locking him out, which was curious in itself. She would pass the information on to Burdett to hand to Colenso although, based on past performance, she wasn’t confident Colenso would follow up on the lead.
A lunchtime yoga class was just finishing when Taylor strolled into the gym.
Mandy, a water bottle dangling from long, elegant fingers, joined her at the front counter. “I just got you a date.”
Taylor almost dropped the file for her one o’clock appointment.
Mandy grinned. “You can thank me later. It’s a double, with me and Dane tomorrow night.” She nodded in the direction of the weights. “You’re with Fischer.”
Taylor glanced across the width of the gym where Dane was talking with Fischer. No prizes for guessing what they were discussing. A split second later Fischer’s gaze locked with hers and sheer panic hit. Biological clock ticking or not, she wasn’t ready.
Friday night. That was tomorrow.
The date was simple, pizza then a nightclub, which meant casual with glitz. In theory that should have been easy, and normally it would have been, but the thought of a date with Fischer terrified her on a basic level.
She’d dated plenty of tough, physical guys, but she had never had such a straightforward physical and emotional reaction to a man before. Aside from that, he intrigued her.
For the first time in her life she understood how women became entangled in relationships they weren’t sure they wanted. With Fischer, nothing was predictable and she wasn’t in control.
After feeding Buster, she showered and changed, keeping it simple—loose hair, black pants and a shell-pink halter top that looked good with her tan. She kept the jewelry low-key and the makeup to a minimum and stepped into heels that pushed her height to six feet. She wouldn’t quite be eyeballing Fischer, but close enough. The effect was elegant, feminine and reserved. She had agreed to the date, but she wasn’t about to serve herself up on a plate. If she gave Fischer an inch he would take the mile.
Checking the load on the Glock, she slipped it into her handbag, collected a cashmere wrap and strolled to the curb to wait. She didn’t feel comfortable standing out on the street with the neighbors’ curtains twitching, but she didn’t want Fischer on her doorstep or inside her house. Within seconds, Fischer pulled up, climbed from the truck and came around to open the passenger-side door. Dressed in dark, close-fitting pants and a shirt made of some light, gauzy fabric, the dangerous, male edge she’d glimpsed was accentuated in a subtle way. The clothing was expensive, but in no way did it make him look soft. She checked his pierced ear, which still lacked the vanity of an earring. Getting into the truck, she decided she would have been disappointed if he’d given in to the cliché.
Friday nights in Cold Peak were reassuringly like Friday nights in any town. The cafés and bars were overflowing, the streets filled with couples strolling. Schoolkids were out in force in their trucks and cars, blasting everyone within a mile radius with their stereos.
The pizza café was cheerful and bustling, with bright red tablecloths and ultraslim waitresses wrapped in long black aprons. After they’d ordered they sat back, conversation stifled by the volume of noise and the music pounding from the club next door.
When the bill arrived, Fischer took charge of it.
Fischer’s gaze connected with hers. “Where I come from, the man always pays for the lady.”
The waitress was already at the counter, swiping the card. If she wanted to cancel the transaction, she would have to make a scene. “Where exactly is that?”
“Louisiana.”
Suddenly, Fischer fell into context. Taylor had once spent a week in New Orleans and when she was there the qualities that set Southerners apart had struck her forcibly. The frank enjoyment of the rituals of courtship—the blunt appreciation of sex—and the slow, relaxed approach that made Southerners appear lazy when they were anything but.
When the check was settled they strolled next door to the nightclub. Seconds later they were caught up in the crush of the dance floor. As Taylor threaded her way into a gap on the floor, a couple moved back, almost hitting her. Fischer’s arm curled around her waist, the heat of his palm burning through the silk of her halter as he jerked her against his chest.
He released her almost instantly, but not before Taylor registered the fact that he was aroused and didn’t seem bothered that she knew it. The moment threw her straight back to the encounter outside the bank, when he’d made no bones about the fact that he found her attractive.
The music changed, a slower, bluesy number. The dance floor emptied out a little, leaving more room. Taylor took a deep breath and went into Fischer’s arms, keeping her distance. The hold was loose and unthreatening; she’d danced this way hundreds of times before.
The music cycled back into a disco beat. Mandy waved at her from the edge of the dance floor, where she and Dane had retreated in favor of edging closer to the bar. Taylor waved back, taking the opportunity to step away from Fischer and fill her lungs with oxygen. Automatically, she scanned the occupants of the club. The drab lines of a dark suit jacket and the neatly trimmed back of a male head, quickly swamped by bright T-shirts and sequined tops, made her stiffen.
“What is it?”
Taylor studied the jostling crowd, her stomach tight, her heart pounding from more than just exertion. “I thought I just saw someone I knew.”
It hadn’t been the tall guy with glasses, or Lopez. She would have known if it had been Lopez.