She looked startled by his tone. “Very nice,” she clarified, as if that made it better.
He felt smote to his masculine core. Here he’d been dredging up pagan images too erotic to bear, and she’d relegated the possibilities to merely nice. “I’ll have you know—”
“I’d like to hire you, Harry.”
That effectively put the brakes on his righteous diatribe. Hire him? Did she consider him a gigolo? Did she dare think she could afford him if he was for sale? The nerve.
But in a lusty sort of way the idea genuinely appealed to him. His body tensed until his muscles cramped. He was so hard, he could be considered a weapon.
Carefully, in case he misunderstood, he asked, “Hire me for what?”
“Detecting, of course. What else would I mean?”
Disappointment flowed through him. Nevertheless, he contrived to look merely curious. “Of course. And what would you need a P.I. for?”
“I told you.” she said with exaggerated patience. “To find out information on my father. He abandoned my sister and me ages ago, and that’s fine by me because from what I know of it, we were better off without him. Except now I think it’s time he accepted a few responsibilities. I figure since your friend has hired you to look into the extortion, and my father is one of the proprietors in that area, it shouldn’t really be too much trouble for you to find out a few things for me.”
A sick feeling of dread started to choke him. He remembered their most recent introduction, when she’d given him her last name. His belly churned, and he forced the question out. “Your father is?”
“Dalton Jones.”
CHAPTER FIVE
HARRY STARTED TO choke, picked up his coffee to take a large gulp, then choked some more. Coffee spewed out his nose and Charlie jumped up to pound on his back with surprising force. The cat hissed and loped out of the room. Harry fumbled for a napkin, and while Charlie tried to drive his ribs through his chest, he cleaned his face.
“You okay?”
Wheezing, he said, “If you’d quit bludgeoning me, it’s possible I’ll survive.”
She quit. In fact, her small hand opened, and rather than pounding, she smoothed her palm over his back. Harry stiffened. “What are you doing?” he asked carefully.
“You feel nice. Hard. And real warm.”
He started to choke again, and Charlie reseated herself. “That was the strangest damn thing, Harry. I’ve never seen coffee shoot out someone’s nose before. And it was still steaming.” She looked vaguely impressed when she added, “That had to hurt.”
“You frightened Ted, attacking me that way—”
“Yeah, right.” She gave a hearty snort. “Nothing would scare that beast.”
“—and you don’t sound the least bit sympathetic, so just be quiet.” His brain throbbed not only from her interested, caressing touch, but with ramifications of her admission. Dalton Jones, his best friend, the man who’d always been there for him, emotionally supported him, got him through his divorce-from-hell, was Charlie’s father? And she didn’t appear to have any fond feelings for the man. No, she literally sneered when she said his name, leading Harry to believe her feelings bordered more on contempt than anything else. Harry dropped his head to a fist and sighed.
“Sheesh. What’s got you so all-fired dejected, Harry?” She lounged back in the chair, at her leisure. “If you don’t want the job, just say so. It’s not like I was trying to coerce you or anything. I just thought since you’ll be checking things out there anyway, it’d be no big deal to let me know if you heard anything.”
Feeling himself duly cornered, Harry sighed again. “Let me get this straight. You want to get reacquainted with your father?” It was a shock, but Dalton would certainly be thrilled. Harry knew he’d spent a good portion of his life chasing after his ex-wife, doing his best to locate his children, to reclaim them, but the woman had always eluded him for reasons of her own.
Charlie bristled like an offended porcupine. “Hell no! I personally don’t want anything to do with him. And if I had any other choices, he could rot for all I cared. But…well, my mother passed away not too long ago and between her never-ending medical bills and the funeral, I’m flat broke. I need some cash to get my sister through college. The bar is mortgaged through the roof, and I can’t handle another personal loan.”
Harry started to tell her that Dalton would gladly help her in any way he could. But he held back. It wasn’t his place to make promises for Dalton, so he decided to talk to him first. Besides, Charlie’s attitude was less than promising, and explaining away the past was a chore Dalton could better handle.
Still, Harry felt he had to soften her just a bit, to perhaps suggest she modify her assumptions until the facts could be presented. “I’m sorry to hear about your financial difficulties, but—”
Her fist smacked the tabletop, causing him to jump. “Why should my sister have to settle for less than the college of her choice, just because my father was too low, too deceitful to own up to his responsibilities? Why should he get off leaving the entire burden to me…I mean, my mother?”
Harry heard the slip, of course, but he let it pass. All he knew about Charlie’s mother was what Dalton had shared, and he imagined from what he’d heard, Charlie’s life hadn’t been an easy one. That had been one of the biggest motivators for Dalton, the main reason why he’d refused to give up the search. He’d worried endlessly for the well-being of his daughters.
The dogs chose that propitious moment to want in, giving Harry a few minutes to think. He automatically went into his laundry room first to get an old towel, then opened the back door and knelt down. The dogs, well used to the routine, waited while Harry cleaned their muddy paws.
Charlie gawked at him. “Do you do that every time they go out?”
“When necessary, yes. I have fastidious dogs.”
“Gee, I wonder where they get it from?”
There was just enough sarcasm in her tone to tell Harry she was nettled. Very slowly, he looked up at her. “You’re not, perchance, making fun of my animals, are you?”
Her brows lifted.
“Because while I’ll accept aspersions thrown at me, I don’t take kindly to insults of my pets.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re defending an old collie, a mutt and an alley cat?”
His eyes narrowed and she muttered, “All right. Sorry.”
She didn’t look overly sincere. In fact, she still looked angry. Well, there was nothing he could do about it, not yet at least.
Harry reseated himself. Sooner lay on the floor, resting his head on Harry’s feet. Grace went to her dish to eat. “Perhaps your father has a legitimate excuse—”
“Ha! If he does, then he can damn well keep it to himself, because I’m not interested in hearing it. Years ago I might have…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away. Sooner stared at her, picked up on her distress, and abandoned his master to go lick her hand. Charlie smiled and scratched his head.
After an audible swallow, she continued. “All I want to know is if he’s got any money, if I can count on him to do the right thing. He owes it to my sister to help her, to give her the opportunity to do her best in this world.”
Harry saw her stubborn pride, her visible struggle to keep herself together. Something inside him softened, and that tender feeling made him uneasy. “What about you? Doesn’t he owe you, too, Charlie?”
She stared him straight in the eye and said, “If it was just me, I’d gladly survive in the gutter with the moldy rats