Vanished (Private Justice Book #1): A Novel by Irene Hannon Page A

of that kind of thing for you?”
    Cal’s lips twitched. “Don’t let the externals fool you. She’s a whiz with online databases and has a degree in computer forensics. We brought her on board when we opened our doors, and at this point I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
    Computer forensics. Iridescent toenail polish.
    Major disconnect.
    “You’re surprised, aren’t you?”
    A flame flickered to life on her cheeks and she fiddled with her can. Was she that easy to read? “A little.”
    “She runs into that a lot, but she’s learned to be amused rather than offended.” His expression sobered. “Nikki’s had a tough life. She ran away from an abusive home at fifteen and became a street kid. But she had ambition. She got her GED and a full-time job, then applied for college. She also managed to get custody of her younger brother after the family finally splintered. He still lives with her. She got married a few weeks ago to a great guy.” He shook his head. “She’s a real tribute to the power of perseverance.”
    Boy, had she read the receptionist wrong. You’d think after her experience with Jack she’d have learned that appearances could be deceiving—in either direction.
    “Are you finished?” Cal indicated the pizza box, where two pieces remained.
    “Yes.”
    He closed the lid. Checked his watch. Hesitated. Some odd—but pleasant—vibes wafted her way, sending a tiny trill down her spine.
    “Since you brought the dinner, can I treat you to dessert? There’s a great ice cream place by the old train station. It’s only a short walk.” He rose and began gathering up the trash, avoiding her eyes. As if he was embarrassed by his suggestion. “But given your early start, I understand if you want to call it a day.”
    Was he having second thoughts about the invitation already? Trying to talk her out of accepting?
    She waffled. Having ice cream with the handsome PI who was doing pro bono work for her probably wasn’t wise. Theirs was a business relationship, nothing more.
    But then she remembered the sound advice Cal had given her earlier.
    Trust your instincts .
    So she did.
    “Thanks. I’d like that.”
    Trash in hand, he sent her a tentative smile. “Okay. Let me get rid of this stuff.”
    A moment later he disappeared out the door.
    Leaving her to wonder why a man who came across as decisive in every other way seemed uncertain about an impromptu little outing like this.

7
    C al slipped his wallet back in his pocket and gestured to a bench a dozen yards down the street from the ice cream stand. “We’re lucky. This place is usually packed.”
    Moira led the way, and he followed—still unsure if he should have extended the evening. She’d given him enough information to take the investigation to the next level. It might have been wiser to call it a night and go home.
    Yet as he watched her tip her head to get a better angle on her double scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream, he couldn’t conjure up one iota of regret. Sharing dessert with a beautiful, intelligent woman was far better than spending yet another evening alone.
    “This is great stuff.” She sat carefully, balancing her cone as the bench shifted under their weight. “However, I’m not certain I should thank you for introducing me to temptation. I see many more trips here in my future, and my hips will pay the price.”
    He gave her trim figure a discreet scan. “Hard to believe.”
    “Hold that thought. So do you live close by?”
    Her casual question brought to mind far less casual subjects.
    “Glendale.” He took a bite of his rocky road ice cream. When would he ever manage to get through just one daywithout being reminded of things he’d rather forget? “Not quite walking distance, but I could jog it on a good day.”
    “You jog?”
    He latched on to the new topic. “Three times a week. How about you?”
    “No. Nothing that ambitious.” She paused to wipe an errant chocolate flake off the corner