Retrieving the bowl of big, plump chocolate-covered strawberries, Melodie shrugged and looked away, but Jo didn’t miss the light shade of pink that swept across her cheeks. “It’s not like I have anything more exciting to occupy my nights, or a line of men beating down my door.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t going to attract any male attention spending all your waking hours here.” Jo’s voice trailed off as she put two and two together. It seemed Melodie had a thing for Cole, and her boss had no clue she existed other than in her capacity as his dependable, reliable, devoted secretary.
Oh, man. Melodie had been working for Cole long enough, two years to be exact, to know that his interest in women ran toward the occasional undemanding fling—no promises involved—usually with sophisticated, leggy blondes who played by the same rules he did. Unfortunately, Melodie was the epitome of a respectable, decorous female in her plain, conservative outfits, and possessed the kind of good-girl tendencies and traditional values Cole avoided. If those qualities weren’t enough to inspire Cole to keep his distance, Melodie was also the daughter of the man who’d become Cole’s mentor after their own father had been shot and killed in the line of police duty. Cole had hired her as a favor to Richard Turner and had come to rely on Melodie as all bosses relied on their secretaries, but the odds of him noticing her as a woman were stacked heavily against her.
And Jo didn’t have the heart to dash her friend’s hopes.
While Melodie popped the plastic cork from the champagne bottle and poured the bubbly liquid into each of their glasses, Jo unbuckled her shoulder holster. Her brother insisted she wear a gun if she worked for him, but Jo knew it would take the direst of circumstances for her to actually use the weapon. She’d learned during her police academy training that you didn’t retrieve your gun unless you were prepared to fire. When actually faced with that reality, she hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. She still felt a painful twist in her heart thinking of the devastating results—the death of her partner. She’d screwed up, and her failure had cost Brian Sheridan his life.
Since that fateful day over two years ago, Jo hadn’t deluded herself with the belief that a gun would be her best source of defense. While she carried a weapon, she chose to protect herself with more controlled devices—a beanbag shotgun, a collapsible baton, and a black belt in martial arts. The combination served her well, and gave her a semblance of control over her actions.
Setting aside her holster, Jo picked up her drink and held it toward Melodie’s. “Here’s to another happy ending.” Their plastic glasses clicked dully, and they each took a sip of the champagne. Then they indulged in the juicy, sweet strawberries dipped in a rich layer of chocolate, murmuring their appreciation for the delicious confection.
“Melodie?” a deep, rich voice abruptly called from the outer office.
At Cole’s summons, Melodie popped up from her chair, abandoning her moment of relaxation. Jo nibbled on a piece of fruit and watched in amazement as the other woman circled her chair and was halfway to the door when Cole appeared, a file in hand. Melodie came to an abrupt stop before they collided and looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Did you need me?” Her voice was undeniably breathless.
Cole didn’t notice, his demeanor strictly business. “Have you seen or heard from Noah?”
“He’s been out of the office for the past two days on surveillance for the Blythe divorce case,” Melodie answered in her ever-efficient manner. “He checked in this afternoon for messages, but said he probably wouldn’t be back in the office until Monday.”
“Damn,” Cole muttered beneath his breath, clearly annoyed at their brother’s lack of availability. Though Noah worked for the company, he was definitely his own man and did things his own way. He was a drifter of sorts, an ex-Marine who worked when he needed the money, and played when his finances made it possible.
Cole dragged a hand along the back of his neck, as if the brusque movement could release the tension radiating from his body. “By the way, did you get the final report and billing on the Cameron case typed up?”
“I put it on your desk about fifteen minutes ago. All it needs is your signature.”
He nodded succinctly, just as the office phone rang. Jo didn’t bother reaching for the receiver on her desk, too interested in seeing how this scenario played out.
Another loud jingle.
Cole lifted a dark brow expectantly at Melodie as if to say, “Aren’t you going to get that?” Too much a creature of habit, and too eager to please, Melodie automatically slipped around him and headed down the hall to answer the front-end phone.
Jo licked the sticky sweetness of candied strawberry from her fingers as her brother approached her desk. “Jeez, Cole, would it kill you to answer the phone?” When he gave her a blank look, she added drolly, “Melodie is off the clock, or are you paying her overtime?”
With a frown he glanced at his watch, obviously surprised to see it past quitting time. “I just assumed since she was still here that she was working.”
That was part of the problem. Cole took Melodie’s enthusiasm to do his bidding for granted. But, Jo decided, that wasn’t her dilemma to resolve. It was up to Melodie to change her abiding, predictable ways and set Cole straight—both on a business level and a personal one.
Cole’s blue-eyed gaze took in the fare she was enjoying and skimmed over the card that had been attached to the basket. He read the note, then smiled warmly at her from across the desk, looking like a younger version of their deceased father with his tousled sable hair, lean features, and head-turning good looks. “By the way, good job on the Faron case.”
“Thanks.” She accepted his compliment with pleasure and satisfaction.
When she’d quit the police force and decided she wanted to work for Cole, her brother had been reluctant to hire her, not that she could blame him. Her past actions gave him too much reason to discount her ability to defend herself, or others. But her suggestion to specialize in finding abducted and missing children was a relatively safe field that Cole eventually approved. It also added a different dimension to the agency, drew a whole new clientele, and helped her absolve the guilt she carried over a past case gone bad.
She drew a deep breath, pushed aside her thoughts, and waved a hand at the champagne and strawberries. “Care to join us for a drink to celebrate?”
He shook his head, his gaze dark and distracted. “Thanks, but I don’t have time. Since Noah has made himself conveniently unavailable, I need to call Vince back and…” Cole’s sentence ebbed into silence as he belatedly realized his error.
Jo perked up at the mention of the bail bond agent who traded professional favors with Cole. On occasion, Vince found himself shorthanded and needed a bail enforcement agent to retrieve someone who’d jumped bail. Cole was a certified recovery agent, as were she and Noah.
“What does Vince need?” she asked.
A scowl creased Cole’s expression, which did nothing to dissuade Jo’s interest. It never did. Her brother had a habit of being overprotective when it came to her. It had been that way ever since their mother had divorced their father when she was five, and she’d ended up shuffled between two households. As the oldest, Cole had taken on more duties and responsibilities than any teenager should have had to endure.
“Spill it, Cole,” she said, pushing his hesitation.
His jaw unclenched, but his hold on the file folder in his hand tightened. “A guy skipped out on his bond, and I owe Vince a favor,” he said with un-characteristic nonchalance. “I traced the guy back to his Washington State residence, and I was going to ask Noah if he could recover the skip since