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God only knew why, but for a crazy instant the image of Flint holding those white, lacy panties in his large capable hand flashed into Zach’s brain. He blinked. “Tonight?”

Flint looked slightly exasperated. “You do know the PI biz is not nine to five? Youhadto have picked that much up.”

“Of course I know that! I just… I’ll phone you as soon as I get back to the office.”

Flint sighed, gave a slight shake of his head, and took another swallow of his highball.

Zach groaned inwardly and returned to the patio. Alton was putting his phone away as he reached their table and slid into his seat.

Alton frowned, opened his mouth, and Zach beat him to the punch. “Everything okay?”

“Hm? Yes. That was Ran. He’s flying in tomorrow morning and wanted to be sure someone would be at the airport to pick him up.”

Ran would be Ransford. Alton’s younger brother. The guy who blamed his financial struggles on Rusty Jordan, for reasons that were so far unclear to Zach.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Both.” Alton was still frowning. “Were you able to calm your friend?”

“Maybe.” Zach’s smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry for that little scene, but you did hear me on the phone with him before you hired me.”

“I had no idea he was following you around town.”

“Neither did I. Hopefully, tonight will be the end of it. I think seeing me with someone else may have finally made the end of our relationship real for him.”

Alton relaxed, said lightly, “Well, I’m sorry for him. But Happy Ever After is for fairytales.”

“Yeah.” No doubt true, but Zach still found that a depressing thought.

Alton offered one of those distant, chilly smiles. Zach waited for him to mention seeing Flint, but their meals arrived, fragrant and as beautifully plated as something out of a magazine. By the time their server departed, Alton had moved on to other topics.

As he savored a bite of his short ribs, he remarked, “I need something to look forward to. What do you do for fun, Zach? What should we do this weekend?”

Were they spending another weekend together? This was something Zach hadn’t anticipated—and frankly, wasn’t thrilled to hear. As welcome as the money would be—

His thoughts were interrupted by a high, brittle voice behind him. An unfamiliar voice. A woman’s voice.

“Yes, Alton,” the woman said. “Whatarewe doing this weekend?”

Chapter Eight

“Z-Zora!”

This was the first time Alton sounded truly rattled, and Zach felt a flash of alarm. He swiveled in his seat and stared up—and up.

The woman towering over their table reminded him a bit of a Tim Burton character. She had a pale moon of a face set on a long, stick-thin body draped in sheer, flowy black…curtains? Probably not. But flowy black garments suitable for prowling the sea cliffs at midnight or rising from the family crypt as required. Her hair was colorless and lank. She wore no makeup, and her pallid face was oddly featureless—not counting her scary, blazing eyes.

“What are you doing out?” Alton demanded.

Which definitely sounded peculiar until Zach remembered that Zora was supposed to be an agoraphobe who hadn’t left the family estate in more than a decade.

Actually, even after that recollection, itstillsounded peculiar—and so did Zora’s response.

“I thought I’d see how the other half lives.” So far, she had not even glanced at Zach, which he wasn’t entirely sorry about. Her burning gaze was laser-focused on Alton, who was almost literally shrinking in his chair. “Anyway, I’m not your prisoner yet. However much you wish I was.”

Alton’s laugh sounded cartoonishly guilty, which was not reassuring. Nor was the uneasy glance he threw around the patio. Unsurprisingly, their fellow diners were as rapt as if watching dinner theater.

Alton half rose. “Zora, you’re not well. This is a-a business dinner. Let me have Chico drive you home.”