Ok, so imagine this.
I’m halfway across the world in a bar in London celebrating my last year of vet school when I spot the sexiest silver fox I’ve ever seen. We flirt, we kiss, and I have one of the best nights of my life. I’m sure I’ll never see him again, which is why I don’t give him my real name, even though I’m down to give him my address, phone number, and throw in my social security number just to be sure.
Weeks later, I walk into Stonewall Investigations in Miami looking for help and who do I find?
A certain silver-haired fox with a cocky grin and an accent that makes my knees melt.
So… about that help...
I went back to London so I could bury my father and put our rocky past to rest. I wasn’t expecting to get handed a letter by a woman I’d never seen before, addressed to me in my father’s handwriting.
Opening it on the spot would be the emotionally mature thing to do. Drinking the evening away at a pub would be the emotionally therapeutic thing to do.
I chose the latter. That’s where I met one of the most interesting and attractive guys I’d ever chatted with, one I wanted to get to know from his head to his toes. One I was sure I would never see again.
Cut to three weeks later, when the object of my intense desire walks into my office looking for help with a murder that had been haunting him for years.
This was going to be an interesting case.