Deadly Little Secrets Page 0,38

he was obviously going to ask.

Gates made a note, smiling. Suddenly Dav’s booming laugh startled them both, and she looked up to see him pointing at Gates. “You should see yourselves, the two of you. Jockeying for position, trying to determine what you know.” He pointed to Ana. “And what you know.” Now he pointed at Gates. “You’re well matched, you two.”

Ana didn’t know whether to be pleased or offended.

Gates evidently had no trouble being offended. “For heaven’s sake, Dav. I’m not jockeying for anything.”

Dav didn’t take umbrage at his friend’s tone, or his words. “I’m not saying you mean to, you’re just competitive. I believe Miss Ana is as well.”

Knowing it was true, even if that competitive streak had been flattened a lot by all that had happened, she grinned. “Either way, Dav, there are things I can’t say about the old case, or anything I’m finding now. However, I will keep your information in confidence since you told me off the record. And,” she turned to Gates, “I’ll be sure to look at Russia without giving any clue how I knew to do so.” It would open new avenues, that was for sure. “I appreciate the leads.”

“Gates, you will help her with this,” Dav said, gesturing toward Ana. “These are difficult people, you understand,” he told her. “Touchy. Gates knows how to get around that without getting into trouble. Also, he can search several of the databases you might not have access to on your budget.”

Gates looked troubled, but didn’t deny either the willingness to help or that the Russian mob could be “touchy.” She wondered if he was concerned about working with her. Either way, she itched to get to her computer and track the Russian lead.

“Do you have any news on any of the other pieces?” she questioned, watching Gates this time.

The faintest frown told her he knew something. “Nothing solid,” he began.

“Anything would—”

“Ah, here is lunch,” Dav said, to warn them both that there were others in the room and the discussion would have to wait. “Let us table this for now and enjoy our meal. Ana will tell us what she thought of the…art at the gallery on Friday.” Dav changed gears smoothly, evidently noting that Ana had scooped up the photos and stored them away when the staff came in.

“There was art at the gallery?” she said sweetly, looking at the two men with her vacuous Shirley Bascom smile.

It was becoming lovely to hear Dav laugh, but to get both men laughing was even better. Gates’s rich baritone was wonderful when he laughed. She had a sudden memory of him whispering in her ear at the gallery, the banter on the phone that night.

Suddenly, it felt very warm in the room. She slipped her jacket off, draped it over the chair. The men followed suit.

“Ana? Wine?” Dav’s eyes twinkled as he indicated the server who stood at her elbow.

“No thank you, I’m on duty.”

“Too bad.” He gave his orders in Greek, and the servers shifted like pieces in a shell game, taking the wine away. “You’ll have to come for dinner sometime, without your credentials pinned to your suit. My cook sets a good table.” He paused for a moment, then turned away to mask a furious sneeze.

Without thinking, because Dav had been speaking Greek, she gave the usual Greek response to a sneeze. “Yitzes, Dav.”

Everyone turned toward her in unison.

Chapter Seven

“You’re full of surprises, Ana,” Gates drawled, breaking the silence at the table. The servers, sensing the tension, hurried to move away. “You don’t look Greek.”

“I’m not, I just lived there for a while. And we’ve had much more interesting things to discuss,” Ana managed, frantically looking for something to change the subject. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her time with her family in Greece. “This looks like a lovely salad. Ah, fresh feta too.”

Dav recovered quickly, she’d give him that. Not as fast as Gates, but fast.

He waved a hand to the servers, “Carry on. Carry on. Yes, the feta must be fresh. Otherwise the whole salad loses flavor, don’t you think?”

“True,” Ana said, picking up her fork as a distraction. The men did the same, and they all began to eat. “So, Dav, overall, what did you think of the showing?”

“My young cousin has talent, I’ll admit, but it isn’t my sort of art.”

“Cousin?” Oh, crap, I forgot the artist was a relation. I’ve stepped in it now, joking about the art. In her flirting