Like a fist, her stomach pressed upward against her heart. Her throat clenched. Well, this would save her the trouble of looking for him later. After all, she still had an article to write, and he owed her a favor.
The thought of Jared repaying a favor sent tendrils of desire stretching through her veins. Seeing him again was dangerous, but by seeking her out he'd left her no choice.
Steph reached out and grabbed Margo's wrist. "Oh, it is him, and he's coming this way."
"Great. Not again."
Raquel's reaction made Margo glance in her direction. The attorney's eyes glittered dangerously. She looked angry. Why?
"Good morning, ladies."
Margo jerked her head toward the sound of Jared's unforgettable voice. Though it seemed impossible, he looked even better this morning wearing jeans and a soft gray T-shirt. Muscles rippled in his tanned arms and coarse dark hair accentuated every bulge and hollow.
"Hey, look who's here." Steph feigned surprise. Badly. "I don't think we caught your name last night. I'm Steph Knutsen." She thrust out her hand.
Jared shot her a crooked grin and took her hand in his. "Jared Carter," he said. "Pleased to meet you." Releasing her hand, he looked expectantly around the table.
Carter. Carson. Very smooth. Jared was lucky she'd attended college away from home so her family had never met him. Margo tried to avoid his gaze and turned her attention to Raquel. The woman's nostrils flared slightly, and her lips looked as if they'd been glued together. No doubt about it — Raquel Eastwood had some pretty strong feelings about Jared.
When no one else made an effort to introduce themselves, Steph took it upon herself to do so. Margo sighed, wondering how two sisters could be so different.
"This is Raquel Eastwood, our attorney," Steph said.
Raquel looked up and nodded, but made no effort to extend her hand.
"And this is my sister, Margo Riley."
"Margo. Nice name."
Margo mumbled something polite and allowed him to take her hand. The feel of his warm, rough skin against hers sent a jolt of awareness through her, flooding her mind with memories. Vivid memories. The things he'd done to her with those hands…
The interview, Margo. She had to remain focused on her assignment. Jared meant nothing to her — not anymore. She couldn't let him mean anything to her now. She was too vulnerable after losing Nick, though it had been two years. Two centuries probably wouldn't be enough. Besides, everything she and Jared shared had been destroyed forever. Even acknowledging that simple truth seemed disloyal to her dead husband. Guilt pressed down on her, hard and fast.
Jared released her hand and stiffened slightly. "Riley and Knutsen." He kept smiling, but the familiar twitch in his jaw revealed his internal struggle to hold his feelings tightly in check. "Guess one of you sisters must be married then."
"Margo's a widow," Steph supplied, earning a groan from Raquel.
Surprise registered in Jared's eyes. The expression he turned toward Margo was a blend of sympathy and astonishment, without a trace of the malice he'd once held for Nick.
"I'm sorry," he said, sounding sincere.
Tears scalded her eyes, but Margo blinked them into retreat. Sympathy from Jared was more than her raw emotions could take right now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to have a long talk with him, while another part of her wanted to run fast and hard. Facing Jared alone would resurrect it all — the pain, the joy, the hunger. And now, here he was expressing genuine sympathy about Nick's death.
Too much.
She couldn't breathe. They were all staring at her expectantly. Waiting. Somehow, she had to get away. She'd find another stripper to interview. Jared was too dangerous, too memorable.
Too desirable.
"Uh, I really have to get to the office. I have a million things to do today." Resisting the urge to sniffle, she pulled some bills from her blazer pocket and thrust them toward her sister. "This should cover my check. You all have a nice day, and thanks for inviting us to breakfast, Raquel."
Without looking at anyone or responding to Steph's objection, Margo slid from the booth and headed toward the back of the diner. The room was nothing but a blur of moving colors and shadows as she made her way toward the rest room. She was running away.
Damn straight.
And she would hide in the bathroom all day if she had to.
Whatever it takes.
The bathroom was blissfully empty, and Margo leaned her flushed cheek against the closed door. Sanctuary. Her breathing gradually calmed, and the tears ceased to threaten her composure. She blew her nose and splashed her face with cool water, then reapplied her powder and lipstick.
After running a comb through her hair, she stared at her reflection. Shame ebbed through her. Margo Knutsen Riley was not a coward.
Oh, yes I am.
No. No I'm not.
She drew a deep, fortifying breath. Damn it, I am not a coward. Later today, just before the Studfinder opened, she'd go find Jared and conduct the interview.
And face all her ghosts — past and present.
5
Nick Riley was dead. Jared jogged out to the Studfinder, trying to digest that shocking information. Unbelievable. He'd had no idea. Margo was available.
He paused across the street from the nightclub, his breath catching. Talk about tacky. He didn't even know how long Nick had been gone, and here he was thinking about-Past tense. Why would Margo want anything to do with someone in his insane career field — either his current fake one or his real one — not to mention someone her late husband had hated and that she believed had been unfaithful to her? With a sigh, Jared crossed the street.
He had to put Margo out of his mind, though he still needed to talk to her again to ensure she would keep his cover. The Margo he'd known would never break a promise, but they'd both changed a lot since college.
Knowing the other dancers wouldn't be there yet, Jared slipped into the dressing room and ran his usual search, coming up empty-handed — again. So far, he'd seen no proof of drugs coming into or out of this establishment, though he needed to get back into the office again and check out the computer. The muckety-mucks had been sure enough to set up this crazy assignment. All Jared could do was keep his eyes open for anything unusual.
Besides local police interference.
He shook his head, still pondering Charlie's words of assurance last night. They'd sounded weak. Uncertain. If the Studfinder really was a front for a drug cartel, and Jared's cover was blown, his ass was toast.
The door behind him squeaked open, and Jared slid between two lockers, waiting to identify the intruder. None of the dancers had a reason to be here this early. The only other living thing around this time of day was the resident cat. If the owner caught him, he'd come up with some kind of excuse, but not being discovered at all was an even better idea.
He held his breath as the person emerged from the dark hall. Margo. Alone, she stood peering around, waiting. She was looking for him — why else would she be here?
Jared stepped from his hiding place and just stared. All the feelings he'd carried in his heart for so many years punched him in the solar plexus. It was a miracle he could remain standing at all. For a few miserable moments, he couldn't even draw a decent breath.
She started toward him, and he dragged in a shaky breath, preparing himself. Seeing Margo again was amazing. And agonizing. Damn. There'd never been anyone else for him — never would be.