and locked it, leaning against it with her eyes closed in relief. Holding her breath, she waited for the sound of his footsteps to die on the stairs. Only after she heard the faint noise of the outer door closing did she release her breath. Her heart was pounding with a fear that seemed wholly out of proportion to the incident.
The first thing that caught her attention was the smell of cigarette smoke. Guinevere wrinkled her nose in disgust. It wasn’t just that it was smoke; it was Rick Overstreet’s smoke. She hurried around the room, opening the windows as wide as possible. She didn’t want the smell in the apartment when Zac arrived. She didn’t want to have to try to explain Rick Overstreet to Zac. Her own foolishness two years ago was a source of embarrassment, and Zac would simply not understand why the man felt he could show up at her apartment uninvited. Lately Guinevere had begun to sense the streak of possessiveness that ran through Zac. She didn’t approve of it, but she had no wish to bring it to the surface. Far better to let sleeping dogs lie.
When she’d finished with the windows, she grabbed the bowl from the hall table and took it into the kitchen. There she held the butt under running water until she was certain it was extinguished and tossed it into the trash can under the sink. She rinsed out the bowl and replaced it just as she heard Zac’s key in the lock. Taking a deep breath, she managed what she hoped was a bright smile as he came through the door.
“You’re late,” she announced, going forward to kiss him with more passion than she’d intended.
“I’ve got an excuse. I think I’ve located Francine Bates’s sister,” he said.
Chapter Six
“ She’s over on the coast, all right,” Zac explained as he lounged at the kitchen table while Guinevere finished preparing dinner. He rested one foot on the chair opposite the one he occupied and wrapped his large fist around the small glass of tequila. His tie had been discarded and his collar loosened. He was the picture of domesticity—relaxing after a hard day’s work while watching the little woman bustle around the kitchen. Zac intended to take advantage of the domestic scene as long as Guinevere would allow him to do so. “I got an address and a phone number. I tried phoning, but there was no answer, so I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“What if we can’t reach her?” Guinevere dumped the pile of mushrooms into a frying pan and let them sizzle in butter.
“I guess if we can’t get hold of her in a couple of days, we can drive over to the coast and see if we can find her,” Zac said reluctantly.
“Good idea! I’m impressed that you found her so quickly.” Guinevere picked up her wineglass and took a rather large swallow. “You really are awfully good at your work, aren’t you, Zac?”
Zac blinked lazily, watching her movements with a shuttered curiosity. The tension in her this evening was new. He’d seen it the moment he’d come through the door. Because of it, he’d refrained from asking her who had been smoking a cigarette in the apartment before he’d arrived. He’d caught the lingering scent of burning tobacco as soon as he’d entered the hall. But before he could casually ask who’d been visiting, Guinevere had thrown herself into his arms. Instinct had warned Zac to wait and see. “In my own slow, humble way I try to do my job,” he said with grave modesty. To his surprise she reacted strongly to the joke.
“You are not slow or humble or plodding or anything like it,” Guinevere said fiercely. “You are downright brilliant at times.”
“Gosh, lady, I didn’t know I’d made such a great impression.”
She turned back to the stove brusquely. “Well, you have. Are you ready? The salmon is done and so are the mushrooms.”
Zac cocked one thick brow. “Salmon? Now I’m the one impressed. What did I do to deserve salmon tonight?” He swung his foot down off the chair and got up to pour another
The first thing that caught her attention was the smell of cigarette smoke. Guinevere wrinkled her nose in disgust. It wasn’t just that it was smoke; it was Rick Overstreet’s smoke. She hurried around the room, opening the windows as wide as possible. She didn’t want the smell in the apartment when Zac arrived. She didn’t want to have to try to explain Rick Overstreet to Zac. Her own foolishness two years ago was a source of embarrassment, and Zac would simply not understand why the man felt he could show up at her apartment uninvited. Lately Guinevere had begun to sense the streak of possessiveness that ran through Zac. She didn’t approve of it, but she had no wish to bring it to the surface. Far better to let sleeping dogs lie.
When she’d finished with the windows, she grabbed the bowl from the hall table and took it into the kitchen. There she held the butt under running water until she was certain it was extinguished and tossed it into the trash can under the sink. She rinsed out the bowl and replaced it just as she heard Zac’s key in the lock. Taking a deep breath, she managed what she hoped was a bright smile as he came through the door.
“You’re late,” she announced, going forward to kiss him with more passion than she’d intended.
“I’ve got an excuse. I think I’ve located Francine Bates’s sister,” he said.
Chapter Six
“ She’s over on the coast, all right,” Zac explained as he lounged at the kitchen table while Guinevere finished preparing dinner. He rested one foot on the chair opposite the one he occupied and wrapped his large fist around the small glass of tequila. His tie had been discarded and his collar loosened. He was the picture of domesticity—relaxing after a hard day’s work while watching the little woman bustle around the kitchen. Zac intended to take advantage of the domestic scene as long as Guinevere would allow him to do so. “I got an address and a phone number. I tried phoning, but there was no answer, so I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“What if we can’t reach her?” Guinevere dumped the pile of mushrooms into a frying pan and let them sizzle in butter.
“I guess if we can’t get hold of her in a couple of days, we can drive over to the coast and see if we can find her,” Zac said reluctantly.
“Good idea! I’m impressed that you found her so quickly.” Guinevere picked up her wineglass and took a rather large swallow. “You really are awfully good at your work, aren’t you, Zac?”
Zac blinked lazily, watching her movements with a shuttered curiosity. The tension in her this evening was new. He’d seen it the moment he’d come through the door. Because of it, he’d refrained from asking her who had been smoking a cigarette in the apartment before he’d arrived. He’d caught the lingering scent of burning tobacco as soon as he’d entered the hall. But before he could casually ask who’d been visiting, Guinevere had thrown herself into his arms. Instinct had warned Zac to wait and see. “In my own slow, humble way I try to do my job,” he said with grave modesty. To his surprise she reacted strongly to the joke.
“You are not slow or humble or plodding or anything like it,” Guinevere said fiercely. “You are downright brilliant at times.”
“Gosh, lady, I didn’t know I’d made such a great impression.”
She turned back to the stove brusquely. “Well, you have. Are you ready? The salmon is done and so are the mushrooms.”
Zac cocked one thick brow. “Salmon? Now I’m the one impressed. What did I do to deserve salmon tonight?” He swung his foot down off the chair and got up to pour another
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