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She set the kitten on the desk, then stood and smoothed her skirt. "Good afternoon, Justin, ,, she said, hoping her voice sounded calmer than the thundering of her heart. "This is a surprise."
"I came to make a purchase." He held up the small paper package, then nodded at the kitten. "And to check up on her. She seems quite happy. Have you given her a name?"
"Alice."
He raised one dark eyebrow.
She tilted up her chin slightly. "She's my cat. I can name her what I like."
"Alice?"
"I've never liked those silly names like Boots or Snowball. I wanted to give her a real name. Something she could be proud of."
He took a step closer. In the tiny office, that action left less than two feet between them. She tried to slow her breathing.
"She's just a cat," he said.
"I know, but ..." Her words died in her throat when he reached toward her. Her body began to hum in anticipation. Her palms got sweaty and her blood heated. He was going to touch her, right here in her office where anyone could come in and—
He stretched his arm past her and picked up the kitten. "Good afternoon, Alice," he said softly and stroked the
animal under the chin. The kitten looked up at him, then started to purr. Her rumble seemed far too loud for a cat her size.
Megan abruptly sat in her chair. She understood exactly how Alice felt. If Justin had touched her, she would have purred as loudly. She'd told herself she could survive anything for a year. This was the second day of his stay and already she was in trouble. She had a bad feeling it was going to be a very long twelve months.
"I want to talk about the murder," he said. His voice was still low and pleasant, but when she looked at his face she saw the tightness in his expression. "About a month ago a saloon girl was killed. What do you know about that?"
"Nothing. Why would I?"
He set the kitten on the desk. "Because someone who lived here for many years was brutally murdered. She didn't die in her sleep or have an accident. Someone found her and beat her to death."
Megan folded her arms in front of her and clutched at her waist. Justin's anger was a tangible force in the room. It filled the small space and used up all the air until she felt as if she couldn't breathe.
"I'd heard-"
"Nothing. I know. Damn." He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his dark hair. Brown eyes bored into hers. "What is wrong with all you people? Why doesn't anyone care about her? Why didn't you want to know what happened?"
"I didn't know her. Of course, I'm sorry she met with such an unfortunate fate, but there is no reason for me to know a saloon girl."
"That makes her death all right with you." 'No." She grabbed the arms of her chair and glared at him. "Not at all. I wouldn't want anyone to die like that."
"Weren't you concerned for yourself? Your safety?"
She drew her eyebrows together. "Why should I be? Someone who wanted her dead wouldn't be interested in a respectable woman."
Justin bent over her and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, trapping her fingers under his. His coat fell open,
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