Hoodwinked by Diana Palmer

glasses and went back to her own office. She sat there until midafternoon, brooding over her mechanic. It wasn’t until Mr. Blake came in, pale and exhausted, that she was able to divert her mind.
    â€œI don’t want to answer any more questions.” He held up his hand when she started to speak. “So just get your pad, please, Maureen, and we’ll get to the mail.”
    He sat down heavily at his desk and Maureen did what she was told, blazing with unanswered questions.
    She went home, still without having seen Jake anywhere at all. What if he’d been arrested?
    She fixed a meager supper of ham sandwiches, sharing part of it with Bagwell, trying not to cry. Her life was over. She’d never see Jake again. He’d go to prison—
    There was a sharp knock at the door. She ran to open it, and there he was. He looked tired and half out of sorts. But to Maureen, he was the most beautiful sight she’d seen all day.
    With a hard sob, she threw herself into his arms.
    â€œWhat’s this all about?” he asked at her temple. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œWas it you?” she asked, lifting tragic eyes to his. “They had this big meeting, and I couldn’t find you. I thought…thought maybe they’d arrested you for sabotage or something!”
    He was very still. His hands tightened on her shoulders. “You thought it was me?” he prompted, aghast at her assumption.
    â€œWell, you’re new,” she groaned. “And they said they thought it was a mechanic, and I didn’t know if you were working for Mr. Peters…” She drew back and looked up into his shocked face. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed that I thought such a thing about you. And I knew, too, that you might be MacFaber’s private detective?” Her voice went up, and she watched him, hoping for some reaction. But there was nothing. His features were as calm as if he were watching a weather report on television.
    He wondered what she’d say if he admitted that he’d thought it was her. He was certain now, of course, that it wasn’t. Or reasonably certain. A week from tomorrow would be the telling day, when the jet flew or didn’t. Meanwhile, he didn’t dare answer her suspicions one way or the other. At this point it was too risky.
    He touched her hair. “You think I’m a saboteur?” he asked with a faint smile, a little cynical about her acceptance of him despite her suspicions. “And you don’t mind?”
    â€œYou’re my friend,” she said simply. She grimaced. “Go ahead. Walk out and never come back. It’s all I deserve.”
    He didn’t budge. His dark eyes narrowed under his heavy brow. “Why did you keep seeing me?” he asked.
    â€œAt first I was keeping you under surveillance,” she murmured with a shy grin. “And then…” The smile faded as her eyes searched his. “You aren’t in trouble, are you?” she asked huskily. “I’ll be a character witness if you need one. I’ll do anything I can to help.”
    â€œWill you?” He tugged a lock of her hair. “Is this concern real, or have you found out more than just what went wrong with the Faber jet?” he asked from an acquired distrust of women.
    She stared at him blankly. “I don’t understand.”
    He sighed. Perhaps she didn’t. She might not know who he really was. “Never mind. What are we eating? I’m starved!”
    The question, so domestic, made her tingle with pleasure. She didn’t make a single remark about his assumption that she was inviting him to eat with her.It was such a joy to have him in her apartment—in her life—that the thought that he might be presumptuous never even occurred to her.
    She grinned. “We’re having ham sandwiches and Jell-O.”
    He made a face. “Get something on and I’ll take you out for crepes and