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“Maybe college isn’t the answer. Maybe a nice high-security prison?”

Mr. B. concurred. Brooke chuckled. “Maybe. Anyway, how did it go?”

Zach restrained himself to a mild, “It could have been worse. We’re still employed, at least. I just got a call from Alton’s secretary asking me to have dinner with him tonight.”

Brooke glanced away from her monitor screen—apparently the Sephora site was her homepage? “His secretary asked you out?”

Zach sighed. “No. His secretary contacted me to arrange my having dinner with Alton tonight.”

“Okay, that’s even weirder.”

“I think that’s how people like Alton do it.”

“You mean weird people?”

“Rich people.”

Brooke snorted. “No wonder his marriage is in trouble.”

Zach opened his mouth, remembered the box with the lace panties, and swallowed his reply.

“Where are you having dinner?” Brooke clicked away from Sephora’s website and gave Davies Detective Agency’s empty inbox a disapproving look.

“I can’t remember the name. It’s in Carmel. American Fusion Tuscan… Whatever that means.” Besides expensive. Where Alton was concerned, expensive seemed to be the default.

“Pinch?”

“That’s it.”

“Nice! Seems a little trendy for Alton, but I guess the idea is for lots of people to see you together.”

“Yee…ah.” Zach considered that for an unenthusiastic moment. “Anyway, after this weekend, I was thinking maybe it would be a good idea to have some backup.” Zach filled Brooke in on the puzzling case of a client unfazed by death threats and a bodyguard seemingly uninterested in guarding any particular body.

Brooke’s expression was thoughtful as she heard him out. “Maybe Martinez knows something we don’t?”

Once again, Zach couldn’t help remembering those panties—currently lying, silver box, lavender ribbons and all—in his bedroom wastepaper basket. “I’m sure he knows plenty we don’t. But after the encounter with Rusty Jordan, I’m not ready to dismiss the idea that the threat is real. Maybe Alton is paranoid. But he’s also kind of…”

“Arrogant?”

Zach nodded. “I had plenty of opportunity to watch him this weekend, and he puts people’s backs up. He’s not deliberately, consciously rude, but that’s almost worse. It’s like everyone else is just there to serve him.”

“Including you?”

No way was Brooke ever hearing the details of the drive home from Pebble Beach. Zach said, “Sure. But he’s also very generous. He gave me five hundred bucks to just amuse myself while he was busy golfing. He can be considerate and thoughtful. But I can also imagine him doing things that enrage people—and not having a clue.”

“I want to hear what happened to those five hundred dollars.”

“I ordered room service.”

Brooke’s expression was a study. Zach laughed. “I deposited it into the business account this morning. My point is, I’m not so sure that, if someone came after Alton, Martinez would show up in time. Or at all.”

“You want me to double-team you tonight?”

“What?” Zach scowled. “No. I sure don’t.”

Brooke wiggled her brows. “Planning on getting lucky?”

“Brooke, I’m serious.”