she arrived, there’d been a tall man outside waiting for Winona to give him something. He’d had thick black hair and a face with features that probably inspired plenty of female fantasies, despite the gaunt look in his eyes, rumpled khakis and a well-worn polo shirt. He’d looked like an unscrupulous private investigator standing at the edge of a sea of sad gray cubicles. The secretary may have even called him Sam.
“I need this job, Carl. I can do good things for Slotto.” Annie smoothed her skirt and tried to compose herself, tried to sound like the qualified, unruffled businesswoman she’d been before Frank was arrested. “If there’s been a mistake, you’d still hire me, right?”
“Of course, if there’s been a mistake—”
“I’m sure there has been.” Standing, Annie cut Carl off. She was just desperate enough to face Sam Knight and get the truth out of him. If only he hadn’t left yet…
SAM PULLED A HOT DOG from the warming rack at the 7-Eleven across the street from Slotto, feeling pretty damn good about the morning.
“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, buster,” a woman next to him said. Sam had been called much worse than buster by more threatening babes, but this taunt threw him for a loop. The woman looked like a petite Swedish schoolteacher. Short ruffled blond hair, boring if well-filled suit, plenty of leg, pearls around her neck. Just the right combination of good girl and sex appeal.
Sam turned his back on her and filled a soda cup with ice.
She sidled closer to him, invading his personal space, whispering as if what she had to say was for his ears only. “You’re a disgrace to…to…the private investigator profession…and men in general.”
Wait a minute. He remembered seeing her in the reception area of Slotto. “Lady—”
“My name is Annie Raye. Ring any bells?”
She was sexier than he’d expected, the kind of woman who was hot and didn’t know it. He disliked her all over again. “How did you…? What are you…?” Smooth, Knight. He filled his cup with Pepsi.
Annie looked him up and down. “You deep-sixed my background check and I want to know why.”
He used to be polished with the ladies, in control, on top…or whatever position suited him. But that was before Iraq. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
She glared at him. Given her Hilary Clinton suit, she probably thought men could actually ignore her well-proportioned body and take her seriously. “How long did it take you to do my background check? A week? A day?”
He wasn’t going to admit fifteen minutes. But it had been one of the most enjoyable fifteen minutes he’d spent in a long time.
“That’s what I thought. You should spend more time getting the answers right. Now, call up Carl Nunes and let’s straighten this mess out.”
“You didn’t pass the screen,” Sam said lamely. What was wrong with him? He tried to sound firm. “There is no recount, no redo, no make goods. Not for embezzlers.”
“My husband…” Her cheeks lost some of their color. “My ex-husband is the crook. I was booked on suspicion, but no charges were ever filed against me. Didn’t your so-called background check pick that up? There’s no reason Slotto shouldn’t hire me.” Annie glowered at him, but the look was ruined by the bedroom huskiness of her voice as she whispered, “In fact, it’s illegal for you to even use that information against me.”
“It’s illegal in California, but we’re much more lenient in Nevada, sweetheart.”
She made a huffing noise. “That’s not a good enough reason, darling.”
He stared at her a moment, then cleared his throat. “How about this? Your father is a professional gambler, and probably a petty crook who hasn’t yet been caught scamming tourists.” There was no way Annie Raye could work in any field even remotely connected to gambling when her father made his less-than-successful living playing cards.
“Slotto doesn’t want to hire my dad.” She pushed out her lower lip, which was pink, plump and tempting.
Annie Raye represented everything a man wanted. Spunky, pretty with a cute little figure—all wrapped up in that virginal package that said home-cooking and flowered sheets. No wonder Carl Nunes had been fooled. But she couldn’t put one over on Sam.
He finally came to his senses and headed to the cashier.
Annie lacked the bravado to stand in his way, but she doggedly trailed after him. “I packed everything I own in my car, left at five this morning and drove four hours to get here. And do you know why?”
“No, and I don’t care. Go peddle your résumé somewhere else. I need breakfast.”
“A hot dog and a soda? No wonder you look like a truck ran you over.”
His hot dog was no longer hot. Wearily, Sam turned back to her. “You might get better results explaining all this to Carl or a reporter. Maybe Slotto is the type of company that would hire you just to escape bad press. Of course, you’d have to be willing to bare your soul and your past. But, hey, Vegas loves gamblers, right?” He found himself caught in her vivid blue gaze. There was more than anger in her eyes. There was fear, as well.
Sam may not have discovered all the skeletons in Annie Raye’s closet.
CHAPTER TWO
WHY COULDN’T SAM KNIGHT have been an old, cigarette-smoking P.I. Annie could easily charm? Instead, he was intimidatingly tall, with long limbs that outpaced and outreached a height-challenged woman like herself. His haunted green eyes hid a stubborn streak Annie hadn’t been able to break. And she didn’t want to acknowledge the solid curve of his biceps beneath the short sleeves of his shirt or the way her heart ka-thumped when his studied gaze roved beyond her face.
With one eye on Sam’s big black truck in front of her, Annie dug her phone out of her purse and called her dad. “May I speak to Maddy?”
“We’re doing fine, honey. How are things with you on the job?”
“Fine,” she lied. It wouldn’t be a lie when she convinced Sam to change his mind. “Is that…are you in a car?” Annie had to accelerate to keep up with Sam through a yellow light. “I forbid you to take Maddy to a card game.” Her father knew nothing about parental limits.
“We’re just going for ice cream. No cards for this little girl. I promise. Ain’t that right, puddin’?”
Annie’s heart lurched. He used to call her that. Back then she’d adored her dad and couldn’t wait to do whatever he asked. “Let me talk to Maddy.”
“I can’t turn this girl into a cardsharp in one afternoon, Annie,” he said, as if reading her mind. “And I’m not going to try. Here, talk to her.”
“Mommy, we’re going for ice cream.” Maddy’s excitement bubbled through the cell phone.
“Is everything okay, sweetie?”
“Yes, Mommy. We’re having fun. Grandpa borrowed a car seat from the lady who lives under him.”
Her dad said something Annie didn’t catch.
“Grandpa says I can hold the cell phone and call you anytime, okay?”
He knew just how to reassure Annie that everything was all right. How she wished she could believe him. “That’s great, sweetie. Tell Grandpa I’ll be another hour, maybe two.”
“Bye, Mommy!” And Maddy hung up just like an independent teenager. Annie wanted to call her back just so she could hear her five-year-old’s voice.
“DO I HAVE TO CALL the cops?” Sam demanded when he’d started up the stairs to his garage apartment