Page 35 of No Headlines Please

As usual, he looked completely unimpressed by the view high above Chicago. Traffic was light, and the building was quiet. Then again, it was a Sunday morning.

I asked, "Do I look like I'm joking?"

He studied my face for several beats before saying, "No." But then he ruined it by adding, "But you are acting funny."

It was vintage Cal.

Growing up, he'd been my personal bodyguard, which meant he'd had the dubious task of doing half the stuff my actual father hadn't been around to do. Hell, Cal and I had even tossed a baseball back and forth a time or two.

Or a thousand.

Back in the day, Cal had one hell of a throwing arm.

He probably still did – even if he was semi-retired. But guys like Cal got stir crazy if things were quiet for too long, which was why I had him on retainer for surveillance work, background checks, and special things that needed doing.

The guy knew his stuff. He was excellent at reading people, including me. Then again, he'd been watching my back since I was twelve, which went a long way in explaining why he refused to kiss my ass.

Normally, it was refreshing. Not today. It's not that I wanted my ass kissed. I just had other things on my mind.

Delaney Sinclair. She'd haunted my thoughts half the night and most of the morning. Maybe I was acting funny.

The truth was, I felt funny, warm and distracted in a way that was completely foreign.

Foreign, but not unwelcome.

Cal's eyes narrowed. "So, how'd you end up finding her?"

"I just ran into her, that's all."

He gave me a look like he wasn't buying it. "Where?"

"Her sister's apartment building."

He frowned. "When?"

"Yesterday."

"And you're just mentioning it now?" He said it like I'd been sitting on the info for days, not less than twenty-four hours.

I shrugged. "Maybe you didn't need to know."

He gave me that look again, like he knew I was full of it. "The sister's building, huh? And what were you doing there?"

That was easy. "I was in the neighborhood."

No lie. I'd been checking out a property two blocks away when I realized I was within throwing distance of a place a friend had asked me to keep eyes on.

One thing had led to another, and there I was – colliding with Delaney Sinclair.

Not too long after that, we were talking over dinner. And soon, we would be having coffee. I had questions. She'd have answers – some I'd been planning to pass along.

Call it a favor for a friend – except now, I wasn't liking the idea of involving the friend at all.

I liked her. And now that I'd gotten to know her, I was wishing I'd told her everything from the start.

I might've come clean last night during dinner, except in the beginning, it had seemed too soon and by the end, it had seemed too late.

She might've been spooked.