sexy in a breezy, nonchalant kind of way that irritated the hell out of him. He rolled right over it. “But the thing is, both cases require extreme discretion. Meagan’s case, in particular, needs to be kept away from both the press and local law enforcement, for obvious reasons. So far, that hasn’t been much of an issue, but if her behavior were to escalate and she were to become a threat to herself or others, because she was off her meds and not thinking clearly, then who knows how things could play out.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand what any of these situations you mentioned have to do with me.” Now it was Broderick’s turn to sigh and he did, deeply, impatiently and borderline rudely, a fact that she seemed to find funny.
He hated wasting time, particularly when lives could be at stake, and he especially hated having to explain himself when it came to his business and how he chose to handle it. In his line of work, every second counted and, so far, Elise Carrington had already caused him to squander so many of them that he’d lost track. And, like an idiot, he had let her. She was right. It wasn’t like the fate of the world relied on whether or not she helped him. Truthfully, he’d move much faster and cover much more ground without her slowing him down. She was beautiful, but he wasn’t under any illusions about the scope of her professional capabilities. Her expensive, scented business card had introduced her as a Private Investigations Consultant, whatever the hell that was. But based on her red-bottom boots, painted-on designer clothing and the mini-mansion that she called home, it was way more likely that she spent most of her time trailing cheating husbands and reporting back to disillusioned housewives. Which meant that her skill set, or lack thereof, as the case likely was, was a liability that he could’ve happily done without. He was surprised that Joel had sought assistance from someone like her in the first place.
Clearly Joel’s anxious mental state had compromised his thought process but what the hell was Broderick’s problem? The jury might’ve still been out on whether or not she was certifiable, but the longer he stood there, spinning his wheels and ogling her on the sly, he wondered if maybe he had it all wrong and he was actually the crazy one.
“They have everything to do with you because, thanks to you and the traffic accident you caused, I don’t have time to vet another candidate. As it is, I should’ve been in Jefferson City hours ago. If I had been, I’d probably be on my way back here with Meagan right now and none of this would even be an issue. But, since it is an issue and Joel has apparently already vetted you, I think an appropriate gesture of professional goodwill would be for you to accept the case and see it through.”
She stared at him for several seconds—a wide-eyed, stunned stare that he was compelled to return full measure—and then she reached up, plucked her glasses out of her hair and slipped them over her eyes. Behind the spotless lenses, her eyes were narrowed and searching. “You’re saying that your failure to plan accordingly is my fault?”
“What I’m saying is that Joel and I need your help.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but Carrington Consulting has a very strict policy against partnerships with outside entities,” she informed him tartly, her eyes still narrowed and, now, a hand on her hip. “So, while I can appreciate your dilemma, I can’t violate policy.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She hesitated for a moment, then rolled her eyes heavenward as if to say, hey, what can we do? Then she mouthed the word sorry to him, stepped back and began closing the door in his face.
Let her go, his mind screamed at the same time that his foot shot out and breached the threshold at the last possible second. He hadn’t planned on going into detail about the other case that he was working on because it was none of her business. But the bottom line was that she had something he wanted—her time—and, since appealing to her professional ethics hadn’t worked, because she apparently had none, then maybe the truth would.
“Three years ago,” he blurted out, barely able to conceal his irritation at having to do so, “my sister disappeared. I was on an assignment in the United Kingdom when it happened, so I didn’t find out until after I got back to the States, a couple of weeks later.” He caught the door with the tips of his fingers before it collided with his foot and held it open. “By then, whatever leads the local police thought they had were cold and the world had pretty much moved on to the next tragic story. To everyone else, including the police, it’s a cold case, but a body was never found and I believe that’s because she’s out there somewhere. So I still look for her.”
His announcement was met with complete silence, during which time she didn’t open the door again but she didn’t close it, either. He chose to take that as a good sign.
“Hers is the other case that I’m working right now,” Broderick went on. “Around the same time that I got the news that Meagan was on the run again, a new lead into my sister’s disappearance popped up—the first one in over a year. I have some associates looking into it as we speak but if they find something significant, I plan to be the one who follows up. Since I can’t be in two places at one time, that’s where you come in.”
He breathed an audible sigh of relief when the door slowly moved in reverse and she came into view again. “Plus,” he added, catching her eyes and cocking a brow, “you’d be saving me from having to make a very difficult choice.”
“What did you say your name was?”
“Broderick Cannon,” another woman’s voice said from somewhere behind the first one. His head snapped up and his gaze quickly roamed the foyer beyond the woman standing in front of him. By the time he had located his target and zeroed in on her, she was already walking toward them, moving up behind her identical twin slowly and eyeing him warily. “What are you doing here?”
“Talking with you, I thought.” He slanted a chastising look in the other woman’s direction and received a grin in return. He barely resisted the urge to grin back at her.
Well, that explains it, he thought as he stared into Elise Carrington’s eyes and mentally commanded his swooning cock back into semihibernation. In a blatant act of rebellion, it yawned and stretched against his thigh, and then tightened in anticipation.
Right down to their facial expressions and physical mannerisms, the resemblance between the two women was beyond uncanny. As far as he could see, the key to the only identifiable difference between them rested squarely in his groin. The woman standing in front of him was just as beautiful as the one who’d just walked up, but he hadn’t once caught himself wondering what she tasted like. His mouth was definitely watering now, though.
Elise—the real Elise—had traded her sexy dress and designer boots for a pink fleece jumpsuit that zipped up the front and bare feet. The material clung to her curves like a second skin, revealing just how dangerous to a man’s sanity they really were. He couldn’t help staring.
A throat cleared softly and he looked up to find two sets of amber-colored eyes trained on him—one wide and unblinking, and the other alert and amused. Not the least bit repentant, he cleared his own throat and tried again. “Miss Carrington, as I was just explaining to your sister, I’d like to talk with you about what happened between us earlier.”
She cocked a brow. “Elise.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I said, I’m Elise.” She touched a delicate hand to her chest in case he needed a visual. “You obviously can’t tell me apart from my sister, so...”
They stared at each other, one of those if looks could kill stares, and he was the first to look away.
Okay, so she was pissed. He got that. But if she thought they were about to have a repeat of their interstate showdown, then she was sadly mistaken. For one thing, he was tired and starving, and for another, every synapse in his brain was on overload at the moment, blindsided by a swift punch of lust that had completely missed his gut and exploded, instead, in the center of his groin. He hated to ruin her diabolical little plan but divine intervention couldn’t have helped him hold up his end of an argument just then.
“Okaaaay,” Broderick