The way a man chewed his food should not have been sexy, but watching Super Agent slide a bite of broccoli between his lips, then slowly withdraw the fork, was hotter than that Forty-Eight Colors of Carnal book that may or may not be stuffed under my pillow at this very moment.

He stabbed another piece and I snatched up my wine glass. Really, was it too much to ask for the man to have a flaw? Just one. Or a quirk. I’d even settle for a quirk, like whistling his S’s or hoarding sugar packets or something.

FBI Special Agent Clive Poole, aka Super Agent, and I had been dating officially for several months now. I wasn’t counting the weeks he’d been my bodyguard and we’d kinda, sorta ripped each other’s clothes off while he was assigned by the FBI to protect me from the man-stealing man-slut who’d been out to kill me. I also wasn’t counting the time I’d bent the bedposts with him after a traumatic experience, wanting to trade one bad memory for a universe-altering night of screaming his and the Great Almighty’s name.

If I counted them, which I wasn’t, then I’d have to take a hard look at the huge mutant moth holes in my moral fabric. And I couldn’t keep ignoring the raging desire to repeat the experience, right here on top of the pristine white tablecloth, right now with the entire upper crust of Scottsdale as an audience.

“Want more wine?”

I set down the glass I’d been sucking on like a nursing infant to find Super Agent watching me with a mixture of bemusement and concern.

“No,” I said to him. “I want to be fully sober when you strip me bare and do things to me that would embarrass a prostitute.”

His fork clattered against his plate and bounced onto the floor. “Are you serious?”

He had to ask because I was kinda known to act on impulse and then regret the whole business in the cool light of day. He’d made me promise that the next time we twisted the sheets it would be thoroughly thought-out, all options weighed, completely premeditated, totally intentional sex.

“Yup.” I took out my cell phone and showed him how I’d keyed it into my calendar as an hourly event starting in five minutes.

He shot a hand in the air. “Check please!” He shoved his credit card at the waiter as soon as he appeared. “There’s an extra twenty in it for you if you run it and come back within sixty seconds.”

The waiter snatched the card and took off.

Super Agent eyed me as though I was a magician’s trick he was trying to follow. He had that hot-cop thing going on from the top of his cleanly shaven head down to his slightly scuffed wingtips and everywhere in between. I knew for a fact he was packing a lot more than a Glock under his baggy suit. And I was looking forward to being reintroduced to every well-honed, mocha-latte inch of him.

By the time the waiter returned, I had my bag over my shoulder and was already halfway to the door before Super Agent caught up with me.

Placing a hand low on my back he mumbled in my ear, “You might want to call in sick to work tomorrow right now. What I have planned for you is going to take longer than one night.”

“You have a dirty, dirty mouth. I hope you’re going to use it for more than boasting.”

“Count on it.”

Who needed roses and chocolates with a promise like that? Within minutes we were in his car, breaking speed limits. I dug my phone out of my bag and scrolled through my contacts for my new department manager’s phone number. Before I could hit Call, my phone vibrated.

“Why is she calling?” I asked.

“Who?”

“My brother’s girlfriend.”

I hardly knew her, and it wasn’t our birthday for another five months. Our as in mine and Miguel’s. Mine and Miguel’s as in twins. Twins as in two people who barely managed to coexist long enough to escape the womb and each other.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Maggie!”

“What’s Miguel done now, Alice?” Not that I cared unless you counted the novelty factor. My brother was nothing if not ingenious at the way he could screw up his life.

“He’s gone.”

“Uh-huh.” What did she expect me to do? Miguel went through women like he went through social security numbers.

“Maggie, he’s vanished.”

“Yeah, I got that part.” Really, this girl needed to get aboard the Dumped Train and enjoy the ride along with all of Miguel’s other castoffs.

“I think something bad’s happened to him.”

Okay, this wasn’t the first time Miguel had left a girl hanging. I’d walked home more times than I could count from places where Miguel was supposed to have picked me up. And this wasn’t the first girl I’d talked through Miguel’s revolving door. By now I’d memorized the speech.

“Alice, you’re a wonderful person.” I caught Super Agent’s eye-roll out of the corner of my eye. He’d heard me give this speech before. “He doesn’t deserve you. One day you’ll see that—”

“He didn’t dump me. I think he may have been kidnapped…or killed.”

And this wasn’t the first time I’d heard perfectly sane, articulate and attractive women excuse my brother’s rotten behavior with an old-fashioned conspiracy theory.

“He’s not kidnapped or murdered. He’s just a raging jerk.”

Super Agent chuckled.

“He didn’t dump me. He loves me. We were making plans for the fu—”

“Miguel doesn’t do futures unless we’re talking stocks.” Alice let out a sob, and my gut twisted for her. I hated Miguel for putting her—and me—through this.

“Please, Maggie.”

I gave Super Agent a wistful side-glance and sighed. Miguel was going to pay for this. “What do you want me to do?” I asked Alice.

Super Agent shook his head and flipped a U-turn back toward downtown Scottsdale.

“Come meet me at his apartment and you’ll see what I mean,” Alice said.

“Fine.” Oh! Miguel was so going to pay. “We’re on our way.”

I called Miguel’s cell number about eighty times, threatening new and inventive ways I’d hurt him with every message I left. In between I called his friend Eric, who hadn’t heart from my brother for a few days. Next I tried my mom. No luck there unless you counted her extracting a promise from me to bring Super Agent over to dinner on Sunday so she could finally meet him. I went through Miguel’s ex-girlfriends, drinking buddies, and old juvie pals. Nada.

We pulled up to Miguel’s apartment in a neighborhood way beyond his supposed means, whatever that happened to be this week. The sharp, modern angles of the building and the high-tech, glass-and-steel structure reminded me of my slickly polished brother. It was just like him to surround himself with wealth he didn’t come close to possessing.

Super Agent cut the engine. “I’ll give you five minutes to sort out Miguel’s drama with Alice.”

“And then what? You’ll throw me over your shoulder and carry me back to your lair?”

“Something like that.”

With lines like that was it any wonder I was crazy about him?

Alice opened the door as we came up the steps. “Finally! Come in, come in.”

I didn’t know how my brother hit a homerun every single time, but he somehow managed to have steadily, increasingly beautiful girlfriends. One after the other they just got more and more stunning. Alice had to be the top of the pinnacle with her gorgeous long red hair and ivory complexion. This was only the second time I’d met her—which was a new record—and I could’ve sworn she’d gotten more beautiful since the last time I’d seen her.

Super Agent went slack-jawed and glassy-eyed. I hit him in the stomach with the back of my hand. “This is Clive,” I told Alice, glaring at my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. “He’ll be sleeping alone tonight.”

“Hi.” Alice gave Super Agent about a second of her attention, then turned back to me. “I’m so glad you’re here, Maggie. I’ve been so worried.”

“Yeah, I got that. When was the last time you saw him?”

“Tuesday morning. We were supposed to meet for dinner after work, but he never showed. The police let me file a missing person report, but there hasn’t been any news.” Her eyes got all watery, and if it was possible I hated my brother a little more for it.

“Is there anything missing from the apartment?”

“A suitcase and some clothes.” She swiped at the tear running down her perfect cheek. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“No, I don’t think you do. Unless you’re wondering how Miguel is going to eat and wipe his ass with two broken arms.”

She laughed. “You sound just like Miguel.”

“That’s not going to win you any points with her,” Super Agent pointed out to Alice. “When was the last time anyone heard from or saw Miguel?”

“I’ve pinned it down to five p.m. on Tuesday when he left his office,” Alice said. “The last person to see him was the security guard as Miguel walked out the door. He hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”

The one thing Miguel loved most in this world was being seen and heard from. A slow, insidious slip of dread snaked its way through my chest. Call it twin-tuition, call it a gut feeling, but I believed Alice. Something bad had happened to my brother.