kicked up a notch and her brow and upper lip felt damp. Darn it, why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? Theory, why did she say that? She clasped her hands together and resisted the desire to pat at her damp face.
“Would you like me to call Mr. Brennan?”
“No. Thank you,” Zeke said. “I’ll show you out.”
She restacked her papers. So, he wasn’t even going to use the firm. Would Steve fire her? Never one to give up easily, she turned toward Zeke.
“Wouldn’t the fact that I’m female be to your benefit?” she asked. “It would show the public that our firm trusts you, believes in your innocence.”
“I am innocent,” Zeke said curtly.
Darn. “Well, yes, I know that.”
“Small towns…lot of narrow minds.” Zeke pushed his chair back even further and stood. He leaned one palm on the desk and stared down at her. “The agent would be a guest of Three C’s. We would need to work closely over the next few days.”
“We’re all adults,” Dena said. “Staying here would not be a problem.”
“It would be for us,” Rocky said.
Zeke nodded. “I’m a bachelor, and this isn’t L.A.”
“Yes, but—”
“I want to stop the gossip and speculation, not start more.” Zeke walked around the desk. “I’m sorry.”
What an old-fashioned toad.
“I understand your mind is set,” Dena said, with a tilt of her chin. “It’s obvious there’s no room for negotiation.”
He was her first client to get away; her first business loss. She frowned, stuffed the contract back inside the laptop case and yanked on the zipper. More than the career aspect, the chance to learn about Carli’s connection to this place had been lost. She had to give it one last shot.
“When you were questioned before, at least in the newspaper and television accounts, some things raised a red flag for me.” Dena stood. She even smiled, although it almost killed her.
“Such as?”
“Don’t lash out with comments. Don’t be a smart-ass. When you’re under scrutiny, every word, action, every grimace counts, and you never know who is snapping a photograph—”
“I might as well sell the damn business,” Zeke huffed.
Dena ignored the comment. “Remember, an agent can make a public statement for you, and frame you and your company in a positive way.”
“Thanks.” Zeke urged her toward the door.
“Don’t give interviews, but don’t bury your head in the—”
“Will you return to L.A. tonight?”
“No,” Dena said, surprised by the swift change of topic. “It’s been a full day, and a long drive.”
He picked up his BlackBerry. “I’ll cover your costs. Make a reservation for you at the La Quinta Resort and Spa.”
“That’s not necessary,” Dena said, covering her surprise. At least he didn’t want her out of town; only out of his place. But she’d also heard that particular resort was ultra-expensive, and she didn’t want to owe this surly guy a cent.
“I might stay for the weekend.” She held a smile, even though her cheeks ached.
Zeke nodded, and then shook her outstretched hand. Rocky stood, left his hat on the seat and moved to the far side of the room. He shoved both hands deep in the pockets of his jeans and stared down at his boots. Okay, well if that didn’t say move on along, she didn’t know what did.
“Thank you for your time,” Dena said. “I’ll let myself out.”
She hurried down the hallway. There were secrets, not only in the desert, but here in this cool, dark house. Maybe not secrets about murders, but definitely secrets, and she’d uncover them, one way or another.
Chapter Two
Zeke listened to the receding click of Dena’s heels. He’d been a real ass. He’d seen it in her eyes. And he should have walked her to the front door. In this forced seclusion he’d lost his social skills. At least he’d offered to pay for her accommodation.
He turned to Rocky. “Think we did the right thing?”
Rocky looked skeptical but nodded his head. He’d never been one for excess words. However, his recent moods turned their conversations into a series of monosyllables and grunts. They’d become a couple of, not even middle-aged, Neanderthals.
“There was something about her,” Zeke said, filling the awkward silence. He poured a cup of coffee from the pot on the credenza. “Want some?”
Rocky shook his head. Zeke picked up a cookie and bit into it. Damn. He hadn’t offered the woman coffee. Why had he let her get under his skin? He’d known millions of women like her. Well, maybe dozens. He brushed the cookie crumbs from his shirt and returned