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Oliver watched Leona cross the street and stride briskly toward the sidewalk café where he was waiting. This afternoon she was crisp and professional in a tailored suit with sharp shoulders, a nipped-in waist, and a knee-length skirt, which she paired with low heels. Her hair was once again in a severe bun. There was a messenger bag slung across her trim frame, a nod to her academic status. He had one like it, except larger.

The only thing that ruined the effect of woman-on-a-mission was the dust bunny tucked under her arm—a dust bunny wearing an outrageously frilly little blue hat.

He smiled, enjoying the daytime metamorphosis, and mentally cataloged the stages he had witnessed in the short time he had known Leona. Last night she had first appeared mysterious and aloof in the evening gown, her hair in an elegant knot. When he had found her hovering over a dead woman, her hands and dress stained red with blood, she had looked so fierce and determined that he had actually wondered for a beat if she was the murderer. But in the next second he realized that she had been trying to help the victim.

She had been badly rattled by the blood and gore but during the escape she had stripped to her underwear, grabbed a flamer, and slipped into the role of gutsy comrade in arms. Later, on the walk back to her apartment, she had looked incredibly sexy wearing his evening jacket and high heels, her hair tumbling free of the pins.

So many fascinating aspects to the woman. No question about it, she was definitely dangerous.

His senses stirred when he realized she had spotted him and was heading directly toward him. He was using a little talent, just enough to make sure he blended in with the crowd seated at the umbrella-shaded tables, but her eyes met his immediately.

He probably ought to be worried, not thrilled. He wasn’t used to people seeing him—not the way Leona did. But she was different. Fascinating.

When she arrived at the table, he saw the steely expression in her eyes and knew something had shifted in their relationship—probably her agenda. He was pretty sure she was no longer willing to hand over the pyramid crystal in exchange for his promise to allow her to study it at a later time. She looked ready to put up a fight. He wondered what had happened to make her decide to dig in her heels.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, taking the chair across from him. “It’s been a difficult day. Say hello to Roxy.”

“Hello, Roxy,” he said. “Nice to see you again.” Roxy wriggled out of the crook of Leona’s arm, bounced up onto the table, and chortled a greeting. He started to pat her on the head but stopped when he realized the silly hat was in the way.

“What’s with the fancy headgear?” he asked.

“It’s a fascinator,” Leona said, sounding somewhat defensive. “You know, the kind of hat women often wear to weddings and summer garden parties.”

“I see.” He rezzed a little energy, just enough to get the waiter’s attention. “Can I ask how Roxy ended up with a fascinator?”

“It’s a souvenir,” Leona said. Very cool and very firm now. “I told you, I had an appointment with my sister and my moms at a wedding salon. There were a lot of accessories lying around the dressing room and—”

“And Roxy stole a hat.”

Leona narrowed her eyes. “She did not steal it. The moms had it added to the bill. It belongs to Roxy now. We figured out how to attach it to a stretchy headband so it would stay on, and my sister tuned the blue crystal butterfly in case it gets lost. Now, about the pyramid crystal.”

“We can talk about it later.”

The waiter appeared at the table with another cup and a pot of coffee. He glanced at Roxy. “I’m not sure it’s legal to have a dust bunny at the table.”

“She’s an emotional support dust bunny,” Leona said.

“But you might want to keep an eye on the silverware,” Oliver added in low tones.

Leona shot him a quelling look and turned back to the waiter. “He’s joking, of course. This dust bunny is licensed.”

Roxy blinked her big blue eyes at the waiter, who, predictably, melted.

“Well, okay, I guess,” he said. He turned back to the humans. “Can I get anything else for you?”

“We’ll take one of those,” Leona said, nodding at a counter that displayed a row of tiered serving trays filled with small sandwiches and an assortment of cookies and sweets. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast.”

“Certainly,” the waiter said.

He poured the coffee, plunked a tower of treats in the center of the table, and vanished.

Roxy studied the goodies on the various tiers the way small children study the packages under the Christmas tree. With great deliberation, she selected a lemon square.

Leona took a tiny sandwich and ate half of it in one bite. Oliver waited until she was munching before he spoke.

“You have a license for the dust bunny?” he said.

“About the pyramid crystal.”

“First, let’s discuss your difficult day,” he said.

She brushed off her fingers and reached for another sandwich. “What about it?”

“I’d like a few details,” he prompted.

“I got fired this morning.”

“Shit.”

“That’s what I said.” She took a bite of the second sandwich. “In hindsight, I suppose it shouldn’t have been such a shock. The raid at the mansion is making big waves in the antiquities world. So far my name has not come up in any of the media coverage, but the university figures it’s only a matter of time before word leaks out that a member of the Department of Para-Archaeology was on the scene. After that, it won’t be long before some reporter discovers that the university received some extremely sizable donations from the Antiquarian Society. The decision to sever all connections with the organization was made early this morning in an emergency board meeting. I’m a connection.”

“That is not right.” He reached for one of the sandwiches. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It isn’t your fault. The university authorities are responsible for sending me into the line of fire. Let’s focus here. About the crystal.”

“Right.” He ate half the sandwich. “Speaking of my pyramid, where is it?”

“Safe.” She rezzed up a bright, shiny smile that was probably meant to be reassuring. “You didn’t expect me to carry it through the streets of Illusion Town, did you?”

“Please don’t tell me you left it in your apartment.”

“Of course not.”

Roxy selected a scone.

“Good choice,” Oliver said. He did the same. “Where is the pyramid, Leona?”

She apparently concluded he was serious. She patted her messenger bag. “In here.”

“In other words, you did carry it through the streets of Illusion Town.”

“There’s also a flamer inside my bag. The moms gave one to my sister and one to me when we moved out into our own apartments. Griffin women can take care of themselves.”

“I don’t doubt that.” He slathered clotted cream on the scone. “All right, what’s the ransom demand?”

“Information, Mr. Rancourt,” she said. She was no longer smiling. “That is what I want.”

“About?”

“I want to know everything you can tell me about the pyramid.”

He considered the terms while he finished eating the scone and then picked up his coffee cup. “Why is the crystal so important to you?”

“Long story.” She glanced around and then leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I’d rather not go into the details in a public place like this. Why are you so interested in the stone?”

“Long story, and I agree, this isn’t the place for it. Let’s find a more private location.”

She eyed him with cool, calculating suspicion. “My parents did some background research on you.”

“And?”

“As far as they can tell, you’re who you claim to be: the director of the extremely private Rancourt Museum, which specializes in artifacts that have an Old World paranormal provenance.”

He got a ping of intuition and suddenly knew her mothers had done more than just verify his employment status.

“I told you about my day job last night,” he reminded her.

“They also checked out your ability to make yourself a ghost in a crowd. They think you’re an illusion talent. Is that true?”

He told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t surprised, damn it. She had seen what he could do with his talent. He forced himself to lift one shoulder in an unconcerned shrug and drank some coffee.

“Runs in the family,” he said, lowering the cup. “Usually shows up at least once in each generation. I’m the one who got stuck with it this time around.”

Leona peered at him as if he were an unusual artifact. “How strong?”

He realized he was getting irritated. “That’s a very personal question. I would like to point out that this is a business meeting. I’m not filling out a matchmaking agency questionnaire.”

“Thought so.” She nodded in a way that told him he had confirmed her conclusions about his talent. “You’re strong. I assume that is the reason your marriage was annulled.”

How in green hell had they veered off into the minefield subjects of his para-psych profile and the annulment? They were the last things he wanted to discuss. Neither topic was any of her business. There was something seriously wrong with the power dynamic in this relationship. He had protected her last night. She owed him, damn it. She had no right to sit there nibbling little tea sandwiches while she asked him extremely personal questions.

“Are you finished with your coffee?” he asked. “Let’s get out of here.”

She signaled the waiter before he could act. When the guy arrived at the table, she rezzed up a charming smile.

“We’ll need a box for the rest of the items on the tea tray,” she said. “The dust bunny and I are both still hungry.”

So am I, Oliver thought. And not just for scones and tea sandwiches . No question about it, there was something seriously out of balance here. For some weird, inexplicable reason he was suddenly spoiling for a fight.

That made no sense. He never lost his temper. Okay, almost never. It took him another beat to figure out why he was overreacting to the extremely annoying woman on the other side of the table.

He wanted an excuse to get closer to her, to put his hands on her.