Forget it, chump.
She was a married woman, and the last person she needed messing up her life was the likes of Jared Carson. He'd had his chance. It was over.
He punched his pillow and sat up in bed. Between worrying about this case and strolling down memory lane, he'd be up all night. Since he couldn't sleep, maybe he'd get some answers instead.
Grumbling, he reached for the phone and dialed his contact's number. Jared's body tensed, thoughts of Margo pushed aside by duty.
"This better be important," a sleep-roughened voice said after one ring.
"What the hell's going on? Is there a leak?"
"Beats the hell outta me." Charlie sighed into the phone.
"And my cover?" Silence. That did nothing to bolster Jared's confidence. "Charlie, is my cover blown?"
"Nah, I'm sure it's fine."
Jared stood and paced. "We'll continue as planned for now, but you let me know in advance if anything else crops up. Got it? I don't like surprises."
"Sure. Get some shut-eye."
Jared disconnected the call and dropped the receiver into its cradle. No, he didn't like surprises one iota. Like seeing Margo again.
4
Margo winced as her alarm clock blasted through her brain. No, not her alarm clock — the phone. What had she done to deserve a wake-up call this morning?
Steph is a dead woman.
Without opening her eyes, she fumbled for the receiver. Anything to keep it from ringing again. Some party animal. Three — four? — tropical drinks had given her a hangover.
"Meet me for breakfast," a woman — definitely not Steph — said before Margo uttered a syllable.
"What? Who is this?" She shoved a pillow behind her head and opened one eye. Her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth with something resembling wallpaper paste. "Breakfast?" Her stomach threatened immediate mutiny.
"Yeah, how about the Little Diner?"
She and Nick had eaten dozens of breakfasts in that downtown restaurant during their marriage. "Who is this?"
"Raquel. Raquel Eastwood."
No longer groggy, Margo opened the other eye and scooted herself into a partial sitting position. "Why?" Suspicion slithered through her. Was there a complication from last night's trip to the police station? "Am I in some kind of trouble?"
A nervous laugh sounded through the phone. "No, I just thought we'd chat over breakfast. How about it?"
Margo rubbed her forehead and nodded, then remembered that wasn't terribly effective over the phone. "Sure, I suppose." She swallowed and grimaced. "It'll take me at least an hour to get my act together."
"Too much Silver Oaks?"
The mere thought of anything alcoholic made Margo's stomach lurch. "No, I wish that was—" She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "Wait a minute. How did you know my favorite wine?"
"Uh, you must have told me last night." Another nervous laugh. "Tell you what, bring Steph, too. I'll meet you there in about an hour. Later."
She had not mentioned Silver Oaks last night. Margo shook her head, immediately regretting the sudden movement. Someone at the law firm must have mentioned Margo to Raquel. How else could the woman know so much?
Dismissing it, for now, she called Steph and tried to sound semicoherent. Her sister was disgustingly alert and cheerful. Fortunately, the call lasted only a minute or two, and she dropped the phone.
"Shower," she muttered, pushing to her feet while holding her aching head. "Coffee."
She froze in midstep, suddenly remembering what — rather, who — had plagued her dreams. Jared. She would find him today, interview him, then forget him.
Forget him? The lie of the century.
Exactly seventy minutes later, she slid into an old-fashioned booth at the Little Diner. Amazing what hot water, hot coffee, and aspirin could accomplish in so little time.
Steph looked as if she hadn't been out last night at all, and Raquel Eastwood still had bombshell written all over her. Not only did she boast a mane of curls Nicole Kidman would've envied, but she had a body that wouldn't quit. Margo's short-cropped light brown hair and small breasts suddenly seemed more inadequate than usual.
She'd had more than her share of coffee already this morning, so she ordered tea and toast. "So, you're Warren's new law partner." And why the chummy breakfast invitation?
"Uh, yeah." Raquel took a sip of coffee and looked from Margo to Steph. "Warren's out of town."
"I know." Steph shuddered dramatically. "When the answering service told me, I was afraid we'd be stuck in jail all night. But, you know, it was all kind of fun until we got to the police station."
A strange expression entered the attorney's blue eyes as she turned her gaze on Margo, then looked quickly back to Steph. "It could've been a lot worse," Raquel said.
Steph giggled and winked at her sister. "Did you see the gorgeous dancer Margo got?"
"I didn't get anyone." Margo grimaced. She'd had him, once upon a time — definitely past tense. Her memory of last night was like a scene from a bad soap opera. She'd stayed out almost all night, gone to a male strip show, and been arrested — er, taken in for questioning. To punctuate the event, her college flame had barged into her life and her dreams.
"Mmm, the way he was looking at you, sis…"
"Oh?" Raquel tugged on her bra as if it were uncomfortable, and her face reddened. "You mean the guy at the station?"
When the attorney peered over the rim of her coffee cup, Margo was struck again by how much Raquel reminded her of someone. For some reason she just couldn't determine why. Déjà vu?
"He was dancing at the club before the real police came." Steph wrinkled her nose at Margo. "If you ask me, he was dancing for my sister."
"Stephanie." Margo's face flooded with heat beneath Raquel's stunned expression. "It was really nothing like that. I just happened to be sitting right in front, and—"
"Dancing?" Raquel asked quietly. "So, tell me what he was… like."
What was he like? Hot fudge sundaes, my most erotic dreams, and the world's fastest roller coaster. Flustered, Margo stared at Raquel. The woman was awfully nosy. "Well, you saw him, too."
"Uh, yeah. Right." Raquel laughed nervously as she added non-dairy creamer to her coffee even though there was real cream on the table. "I guess I really didn't get a very good look at him."
"That's funny." Steph smiled at Margo. "I thought Nick was the only person who preferred that powdered junk to the real thing."
"Me, too." Margo tried to smile but found a lump in her throat she couldn't swallow. "Must be a prerequisite for the law firm."
"Oh, really?" Raquel shrugged. "That must be the real reason Warren hired me."
"Oh, I doubt that." Steph grinned, tilting her head to the side. "I imagine it had a little something to do with your legs, and a couple of other things."
Raquel coughed into her napkin as Steph dissolved into laughter, but Margo didn't join her sister. There was something really strange about Raquel. Then again, maybe it had a little something to do with Margo's lack of sleep and her hangover.
"Hey, sis, look." Steph leaned forward, pointing toward the door. "Is that who I think it is?"
Dragging her attention from Raquel, Margo looked toward the door. And froze. Larger than life, Jared Carson's impressive physique filled the doorway. This couldn't be a coincidence. She'd called in and told her editor where she was having breakfast, in case anyone needed to reach her. Jared must have called to track her down.