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After due consideration, Owen had finally concluded that the logical approach was the obvious one. He would simply knock on the connecting door. When Amy opened it from her side, he would tell her that he wanted to discuss the case. It was as clever an excuse as any.
Having considered and determined upon a course of action, he gripped the padded arms of the chair and started to get to his feet. An authoritative knock from Amy’s side of the door stopped him in midrise.
“Owen? Are you in there?” Her voice was muffled, but the excited urgency in it was unmistakable. She knocked again, this time with a bit more insistence.
Owen told himself not to get his hopes up. The odds were against the likelihood that Amy had fallen for him sometime during dinner and now wanted to share a passionate good-night embrace.
Nevertheless, he walked across the room with enthusiasm and opened the door with anticipation.
Amy stood there, her hand raised for another peremptory knock. Her honey-colored hair was pinned in a frothy knot on top of her head. She was wearing a heavy, quilted bathrobe that rendered the average nun’s habit scandalous in comparison. Owen smiled at the sight of her. She looked freshly scrubbed, and he was willing to bet that she had already brushed her teeth.
“I thought you might want to discuss the case,” she said eagerly.
Owen’s enthusiasm and anticipation vanished in a puff of smoke. So much for his fond dream of having Amy fall into his arms. Back to Plan A. “I was afraid of that.”
Her brows snapped together. “What?”
“Never mind.” Owen stepped aside and swept his hand out to invite her into his room. “Come on in and have a seat. I’m at your service. Hell, I’m even willing to unlock the little refrigerator over there and open one of those itsy-bitsy bottles of wine.”
Amy scowled. “Those tiny bottles are horribly overpriced for what you get.”
“No problem. I’ll just put it on my expense account.”
Amy halted midway into the room. Alarm flared in her eyes. “Expense account?”
“Sure. That’s how this PI business works, you know.” He closed the connecting door and strolled to the small refrigerator. He used the small key to open the door. “I bill you by the hour and then tack on all the little extras. Adds up nicely.”
“Good heavens. I hadn’t realized. That could get rather pricey.”
“Yes, indeed.” Owen removed a minuscule bottle of brandy and paused to examine the label. “Name of the game, I’m afraid.”
“Maybe we should have discussed your fees in more detail.”
“Too late.” Owen splashed the brandy into two glasses. “I’m already on the job. And once I start something, I always finish it.”
Her expression relaxed. “You’re teasing me.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” She took one of the glasses from his hand. “You know, you’ve been acting a little weird since you agreed to take this case.”
“Maybe that’s because the case is a little weird.” He took a sip from his glass. “First time I ever went undercover as a client’s fake fiancé. By the way, you want some advice?”
She looked immediately wary. “What advice?”
“Try not to get that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression in your eyes whenever someone makes a reference to our engagement. Sooner or later you’ll blow our cover.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. “Good grief. I’m that bad?”
He stared at her full, parted lips. “Maybe you just need to loosen up a bit.”
“Loosen up?”
“Mellow out. Get into the role.” He closed the distance between them with long, slow strides. “Try to become more comfortable with the idea of having a relationship with me.”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Relationship?”
“It should feel natural.” He stopped in front of her. “Otherwise you’re going to panic whenever someone says the magic word,engagement.”
