I told him.
"So you think this could have been personal?" Grant asked.
I wasn't sure if he was taking my idea seriously or just humoring me. I tried to read the expression in his dark eyes, but those gold flecks were giving nothing away now. "I think it could have been. There was someone backstage that day who…well, we think might have been following Gia specifically."
"We?" he asked, jumping on the word.
"Ava and I."
"Oh no." He let out a tsk of air and shook his head. "Please don't tell me you two are playing Nancy Drew again?"
"Excuse me, I take offense to that," I said, giving him a look of mock anger, puffing my chest out. "We are grown women. If anything, we're Charlie's Angels."
He grinned and gave my puffed cleavage a healthy appraisal. "Point taken."
I hated the way my hormones got all giddy with that look. "Thank you," I mumbled, covering my hot flash with another sip of wine.
"Okay, tell me about this someone backstage," he said, thankfully seemingly oblivious to my discomfort as he dragged another slice of bread through oil.
"Well, we noticed this guy in the background of a couple of the photos I took at the show." I set my wineglass down and grabbed my phone from my purse, pulling up the shot again. "He also appears in a few of the photos on Gia's social media pages. But always off to the side. Always kind of hidden in the background. Like, maybe she didn't even know he was there."
I passed my phone across the table to him, and he frowned as he assessed Stalker Guy.
"Can't see much of his face here."
"Yeah, that's kind of a theme. He's usually wearing a hat or sunglasses. Almost like he doesn't want to be recognized."
Grant sent me another dubious look across the table. "Or because he lives in sunny California?"
I rolled my eyes and held my hand out for my phone to be returned. Grant gave it back, but the teasing glint still remained.
"Look, the guy was backstage the day Gia was killed. And I don't think he was associated with the show."
"Well, I can say he's not one of the witnesses I've interviewed so far," Grant conceded.
"So don't you think it's possible he was stalking Gia?"
"Stalking is a strong word," he cautioned. "This guy could have just been a friend of Gia's. Or one of the other models. Or it could even be a coincidence he was in the same place at the same time as Gia more than once."
"Kind of a big coincidence, right?" I asked, swirling my wine in my glass again.
Grant shrugged. "They happen more often than you'd think."
"So you're not even going to look into this guy?"
Grant blew out a big breath, his eyes going to the phone in my hand again. "I guess I could see if Gia ever filed for a restraining order or made a complaint."
I tried to stifle my grin. No one liked a gloater.
"But," he added, "it's entirely possible this guy is just some fan or friend."
I nodded. "Sure. Totally possible."
He shot me a look over the rim of his glass like he didn't believe I thought that for a second.
Luckily, our food arrived then, and we both dug in with gusto. I realized I hadn't eaten since the brunch at the Links, and while the hectic pace of the day had kept hunger at bay, I was famished now as I inhaled the scents of garlic, thyme, and oregano. My sea bass flaked delicately onto my fork, and I savored the velvety texture of the cauliflower purée artfully arranged beneath it, thinking the bright tang of the lemon and the lusciously buttery sauce were a match made in culinary heaven. I closed my eyes and may have even moaned a little.
"How's the fish?" Grant asked.
I opened my eyes to find him watching me, a look that was part amusement and part heat on his face—bedroom eyes dark and hooded, mouth cocked in a half grin.
I willed the blush rising up my neck to halt before it clashed with my mauve lipstick.
"Uh, it's good. Great," I said, forcing a light tone into my voice. "How's the steak?"
"Delightful." He stabbed a bite with his fork and popped it into his mouth, still grinning.
"So," I said, eyes going to my plate in an attempt to regain my composure. "All these witnesses you interviewed. I'm guessing no one saw a guy with an emerald size bulge in his pocket making for the door