Focus!

"Coffee, soda, beer?"

"Coffee would be fine." She removed her jacket and slid into the booth. Bordeaux-colored leather glided smoothly under the silk of her skirt. She folded her jacket over her purse on the seat beside her.

He went into the back and returned a few minutes later with a tray. Setting the edge on the table, he transferred two thick mugs of coffee, a thermal carafe, and a small ceramic pitcher of cream to the table. He might be the owner of the bar, but he'd obviously waited plenty of tables. Setting the empty tray aside, he sank into the seat opposite her. "I want to thank you again for helping me in Maine."

"I didn't actually do anything, and my intentions were entirely selfish." He'd helped her as much as she'd helped him. "I simply wanted to recover my exhibit."

Humor glinted in eyes the color of the sunny Mediterranean. "You could just say, 'You're welcome.'"

Heat flushed her cheeks. "You're welcome."

"What brings you here?" Conor sipped his coffee.

She added a drop of cream to her mug. "I took a job with the Livingston Museum."

"Congratulations." No surprise registered on his face. Had he known?

"Thank you." Being let go still stung.

"They shouldn't have fired you." His head tilted. Was he reading her mind? "None of what happened was your fault."

"It's complicated."

He let it go, but the tightness of his mouth suggested he didn't want to. "How do you like your new job?"

"It's good." Louisa stirred her coffee. Last time he'd come to her for help, and he'd pursued her with dogged determination until she'd complied. This time she was the one who needed something from him.

"Where are you staying?"

"I'm renting a condo at the Rittenhouse."

He whistled. "Nice."

"It's only temporary. I didn't know what I wanted, and it's convenient to work."

He sat back and studied her, and she suddenly wished she hadn't removed her jacket. The thin silk of her blouse wasn't enough of a barrier. She felt almost naked under his scrutiny.

Louisa watched the swirl of cream in her coffee, but she could feel his gaze on her skin.

Conor set his mug on the table, his intense focus threatening to blank out her brain again. "So what brings you into my bar this afternoon?"

It was a good thing one of them was functioning with all his brain synapses. "I'm looking for a girl."

Conor's head snapped up. "A girl?"

"Yes, one of my graduate student interns at the museum didn't show up for work today. But that's not the whole story." Louisa explained about Riki, the missing dagger, and the visit from the police the day before.

Conor leaned back against his booth. "I can't believe it. Someone stole a dagger from the museum and committed murder with it."

"That's certainly what the evidence suggests." Louisa set down her cup. Enough acid already churned through her stomach to dissolve metal.

"Haven't we been here before?" His tone held no amusement.

"Unfortunately."

Conor's head tilted. "The situation is awful, but none of this explains why you're here today."

Louisa toyed with her pearls. "Zoe's boyfriend said he left her here."

"Her name is Zoe?" Conor swept both hands through his overgrown black hair. "I bounced a loudmouth last night. His girlfriend chose not to go home with him. Her name was Zoe too. Long, dark hair. Freckles. Thin."

"That sounds like her. What time did she leave?"

"I drove her to the subway station a little after midnight."

"You drove her?" Louisa smiled, remembering how he'd shielded her from the media.

"It was late, and there was a lowlife hanging on the corner." Regret darkened Conor's eyes. "I should have driven her home. Are the police looking for her?"

"When I left the museum, the director was calling them. I'm not sure how they'll treat the report. If it weren't for Riki's disappearance, the situation would be more irritating than alarming. However, no one has been able to locate her all morning, which is definitely not normal behavior for Zoe. She might run a habitual thirty minutes late, but she always shows up. Did she act strangely last night?"

"It's hard to say. I don't know how she acts normally," he answered. "You've tried her friends and family?"

"Not exactly. Director Cusack was looking for a report she was working on for him. I didn't want her to get into trouble. She's already been written up for lateness. I tried her cell, but she didn't answer. When I called her apartment, her roommate answered and told me Zoe never came home last night. I thought, fine, she slept at her boyfriend's place. Her roommate gave me his number-"

Conor lowered his coffee cup. "Tell me you didn't call her boyfriend looking for her."

"I wanted to spare her the humiliation of being fired." Louisa's face burned with indignation. "Internships are very competitive. There are other students who would love her position. Trust me. It was one of the most embarrassing phone calls I've ever made."

"I believe you." He held up a defensive hand, but his lips were twitching again.

Louisa huffed. Why did he enjoy provoking her? And why did she react to his every jibe? She wasn't this snappish with anyone else. "Anyway, her boyfriend told me they'd had an argument, and he'd left her here. That's when I got worried." Not to mention shocked that Sullivan's was involved. The coincidence just didn't seem possible.

Conor rubbed his temples with a forefinger and thumb. "It was too late for a woman to take the subway alone."

"I might be getting way ahead of the situation. Zoe could be fine." Was Louisa's concern more guilt-driven than logical? The stolen dagger was her responsibility.

A buzz sounded from his pocket.

"Excuse me." He pulled out a cell phone and read the display. "I need to run an errand. If you want to keep talking, you'll have to walk with me."

She checked her watch. She'd taken a late lunch and was due back at work by three. "Will it take long?"

He shook his head. "Ten minutes. Come on. The fresh air will clear your head."

She half wanted to run from Conor at full speed. But questions about the previous evening still lingered in her mind. "All right."

As she followed him from the bar, she wondered if her agreement was based solely on her concern for her intern or if she was bowing to the part of her that didn't want to bolt.

6.

An afternoon breeze swept down Oregon Avenue as they set off down the sidewalk through elongating shadows. Louisa buttoned her jacket and clutched her purse tightly under her arm.

"This way." Conor's hand brushed her shoulder as he pointed left.

Though warm enough, Louisa shivered all the way down to her aching toes.

"Where are we going?" Her fingers cramped, and she loosened her grip on her purse.

"Just a few blocks. Can you walk in those shoes? Do you want to wait in the bar?"

"No. Tell me about Zoe's boyfriend. What did he do last night that was so awful?"

They stopped at the corner. Other pedestrians bunched around them as they waited for the light to change.

"He wouldn't take no for an answer." Conor angled his body between her and the crowd. "So, you've been at the museum for two months. An intern was kidnapped and murdered with a stolen knife, and now a second intern has vanished."

"That's how it seems."

"How many people in the museum know what happened in Maine?"

"Apparently, everyone. Why?"

"It's too much of a coincidence, especially now that I'm part of it too."

The light changed, traffic stopped, and the crowd moved en masse across the intersection.

"There were numerous newspaper articles." She thought of April's statement. "Evidently, the staff was passing them around in the weeks between my hire and my move down here."

"So our connection is public knowledge, even though we haven't seen each other for six months."

"Yes." She stepped up on the opposite curb. "I almost called you," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

A lazy smile tugged at his mouth. "Really?"

Louisa's hand was halfway to her pearls before she stopped it in front of her chest. Conor reached over and took her hand in his. They'd shaken hands before, but this felt different. This felt possessive, almost intimate. She tensed, her instincts urging her to break his grip, not because the contact was unpleasant, but because she liked it. Their gazes met. His was brazen, as if daring her to admit the attraction between them.

She took the challenge. Old habits needed to be broken. New city, new life. Heat soaked into her cold fingers and made her forget all about her fidgeting. And about letting go. "So . . . the group Zoe was with. Which one of them wanted to come here last night?"

"That's what I'd like to know. We're not part of the hip and happening club scene, and we're too far from University City for overflow." He steered her around a large crack in the sidewalk. "But her date was a Flyers fan, and we get plenty of postgame traffic. Still feels like too much of a coincidence, though."

"Coincidences do happen."

"True." He squeezed her hand. "I'm sad your intern is missing, but I'm happy to see you."

Nerve endings prickled over her skin at the genuine warmth in his words. Why did he have this effect on her? It wasn't in her nature to simmer under a man's attention. She dated and had had several short-term relationships. None had been serious. But then, none of her former boyfriends had been as intense or demanding as Conor.

He stopped in front of a white-brick building. The words VETERINARY CLINIC were stamped on the glass. "This is it."

When he let go of her hand to open the door, she missed the contact. When was the last time a man had held her hand?

Never?

The men she usually dated didn't lend themselves to intimate romantic gestures. They sent her expensive roses and bought her jewelry, all lovely but impersonal. None of those gifts had made her feel raw and edgy and hot. Even her silk blouse felt scratchy.

A bell mounted on the door jingled as they went into the clinic. The air smelled of animals and antiseptic. The scrub-clad technician at the reception counter greeted them with a smile. Her hair was braided in small cornrows that lay flat against her scalp, setting off sharp, exotic cheekbones.

"I'm here for my dog." Conor gave his name.

"I'm glad you're here. She won't eat for us. I hate to see such a sweet dog scared." The tech grabbed a file and presented Conor with a bill. "I know it's a lot, but you wanted her up-to-date on her shots. On the bright side, her injuries are superficial."

"It's OK." He winced at the total and paid with a credit card.

The vet tech brought the dog into the waiting room. The animal's head and tail hung low.

"Oh no. That poor thing. She's so thin. Are those bite marks? Did she get into a fight?"

"More likely she was put in a fight." Conor described how he'd found the dog the night before. "She looks better than when I dropped her off this morning."

At the sound of his voice, the dog's mangled ears pricked up. Her gaze landed on Conor. The stubby tail lifted and wagged back and forth.

"What horrible person would do that to an animal?" Louisa asked.

"The cops have been cracking down, but dog fighting is still a real problem in this city." Conor took the leash from the technician. "A pink collar and leash?"

The vet tech laughed. "We thought she needed something girly. The way they butchered her ears gives people the wrong impression. Consider it a gift for not dumping her at the shelter."

"Anything special I should do for her?" he asked.

"No." The tech handed him a sheet of paper. "She's been starved for a while, so reintroduce food slowly. If her appetite doesn't pick up in a week or so after she settles in, then bring her back. We'll also want to spay her, but I'd like to wait a couple of weeks and let her get stronger first."

"Thanks." Conor folded the paper and stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He led the dog outside. On the sidewalk, he squatted and rubbed her head. "Bet you're glad to be out of there."

Louisa bent down. "Can I pet her?"

"You're not afraid of her? Some people might find her scary."

"Should I be? She looks pathetic."