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“Let me take some details, then I’ll arrange for an investigator to come and see you. Address? Telephone number?” Emma jotted down the woman’s particulars, an imp inside her laughing as she imagined George assigning this case. None of the men would appreciate chasing a rose thief. George Taniwha’s operatives preferred the dangerous stuff that challenged them and proved they were men.
Her humor died, replaced by a frown that drew her brows together. That was another thing she wanted to change. She’d passed all her private investigator exams. George had promised she’d be able to take on cases soon. Perhaps this one. Never let anyone say Emma Montrose didn’t have ambition.
“When can I expect someone?” the elderly lady questioned. “I’m sure it’s Mrs. Gibb’s grandson, but the police won’t do anything.”
“An investigator will contact you tomorrow morning, Mrs. Denning.”
“Excellent. Tomorrow is my baking day. I’ll make them a cup of tea once they arrive.”
Emma couldn’t restrain a grin as a vision of one of George’s tough he-man investigators drinking tea from a bone china cup popped into her mind. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy refreshments. Thanks, Mrs. Denning.” She disconnected and transcribed two proposals for prospective clients while she waited for Jack to leave George’s office. She was smitten enough to want to gaze her fill as he departed since he had a truly fine butt.
The hands of the clock moved at the pace of a sick snail, and still Jack remained in George’s inner sanctum. Reluctantly, Emma packed up for the day. She grabbed her bag and couldn’t prevent a glance at the closed door, searching for the tall, dark-haired man of her dreams.
Oh, yeah. No doubt about it. She was a sad, sad woman.
“Ihaveacasefor you,” George said.
Something in his boss’s tone, the watchful air in his sharp brown gaze made Jack cautious. “Yeah?”
“Sports-enhancing drugs. Rumor says there’s a ring operating out of the Mahoney Resort on Waiheke Island in the Hauraki Gulf. I want you to check it out.”
“And?” Jack’s gut told him there was more to the story. The twitch of George’s lips confirmed his suspicions.
“I’ve assigned you a partner.”
Jack straightened from his casual sprawl against the wall, his eyes narrowing on his middle-aged boss. “I work alone. I don’t work with a partner.” His last one had died. Horribly. And he lived with that guilt. He wasn’t damn well repeating the hellish experience.
“You can’t do this job alone.”
“Why not?” Jack demanded. “I’ve managed every other assignment on my own.”
George leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and looking over the top in a thoughtful manner. While he appeared relaxed, Jack knew George would give him a tough battle should they ever decide to go the physical route during a disagreement. “This one might be a little difficult. Reuben J. Mahoney is a slippery character.” The chair squeaked a protest each time the big man shifted his weight.
“I can handle anything he throws at me.”
George glanced at the calendar pinned on the wall then cast his attention back to Jack. “There’s a blue moon coming up. It might fall prior to the end of the case.”
Jack filled in the blanks. The blue moon would erode his powers and make it difficult to retain his human form. Without constant sexual stimulation, he’d shift into a taniwha, the legendary dragon from Maori mythology. Jack snorted at the thought of being trapped in taniwha form in the middle of a mission. It had happened to other shifters on George Taniwha’s staff but not to him. He imagined the pandemonium if he transformed in the middle of the bustling resort. A disdainful snort emerged.
Little did New Zealanders know, but the species taniwha survived and lived among them. Jack didn’t intend to be the first taniwha to make headlines in theNew Zealand Herald. No way. No how. If he had to find a woman to keep the monster at bay, then that was what he’d do.
“Okay,” he conceded. “I guess a partner might help. Who’s available? Hone? Billy?”
George issued a choking sound, merriment dancing across his lined face as he stuck his big-booted feet on his desk.
“What’s so goddamn amusing?” Jack ground out.
Another chortle exploded from George.
Jack paced the length of the room, trying to combat the thrum of agitation working through his system. He paused to stare out the window, his mind taking in the yachts that zigzagged across the blue waters of Auckland Harbor. Finally, he turned away and stalked back to drop into the chair opposite George. He kept his expression neutral despite the amusement still simmering across his boss’s face. “Let me in on the joke.”
“You can partner up with Hone or Billy if you want, but you might want to consider the special circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Hell, he had a hot date with Melissa tonight. Good, sweaty, no-strings sex. He didn’t have time for this crap. “Either Hone or Billy. I’m not fussy.”
“Reuben J. Mahoney runs a couples’ resort. I’m assigning you a female partner.”
“A female—No.”
