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“Ah. Yes, I know Gerald.”
His name was Archer, actually, but I’d let it slide. It wasn’t like I knew the guy, either. “I want to be a writer,” I added. “Like you.”
Manning looked surprised. “You’ve read my books?”
“Are you kidding?” I leaned in a little closer. “I’m a huge fan.”
Manning pressed his hand to his chest. “Youare?”
“I especially liked that mystery about the state fair you wrote in the eighties.” I cocked my head just so. I felt a carefully positioned tendril of hair kiss my bare shoulder.
“My word.” Manning seemed flustered. “Most students don’t even know I’ve been published. It’s just my hobby, really. It’s not like my books are with large presses.”
“You’re being modest. You’re very good.”
Manning shrugged, but it was obvious he was delighted. He looked up again, and we locked eyes. He looked away first. “So, um, can you tell me a little about the position?” I asked.
“Ah, yes.” Manning walked me through the details of the job. “It’s pretty standard, really. Answering calls. Scheduling. Making sure I’m where I’m supposed to be.” He gave me a serious look. “There are a few circled dates every month where I’m out of range and not to be disturbed. I expect you to be my guard dog in those instances.”
I didn’t like being called a dog—I would leave that role to Craggy O’Leary. So I said, “I’ll be your gatekeeper.”
“Very good.”
The older man’s blue eyes had flecks of orange through them that reminded me of a wolf. I bet when he was in his prime, he was gorgeous. Even better-looking than Dr. Rosen.
“I’m eager to prove myself,” I purred to Manning. “It would be such an honor.”
“Excellent.” Manning’s eyes crinkled. “You know what? The job is yours. Do you mind if I see your student ID? You earn course credit for your assistance. It helps offset the shockingly low pay. Don’t blame me—that’s up to the school’s budgetary committee.”
“Oh.” I patted my pockets. “My ID is lost—I keep meaning to get a new one. But don’t worry about the course credit. I’d rather take classes. And I don’t care about the low pay.”
Manning looked puzzled. “How did you get into the building without your student ID?”
I gave a sheepish shrug. “The guard and I are kinda like this.” I held up two fingers tightly pasted together. And Manning believed me. Sweet guys like him always do.
“You okay?”
I jolt up, and I’m back in the coffee shop. A girl stands over me, her face bathed in shadows. She’s holding a coffee cup and has a substantial leather tote slung over her shoulder.
“I said, are you okay?” she repeats. “You’re crying.”
I touch my cheeks and find them wet.Shit.I thought I was all cried out.
I sniff and turn away. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
“Is it because of the hack?” Her voice is low. “Did something bad come out about you?”
Nosy much?“I’m not stupid enough to put anything personal on my Aldrich e-mail.”
She nods. “I know, right? What were people thinking?Anddid you hear that doctor was murdered? It was, like, blocks away.” She shivers and looks around. “The killer could bein hereright now.”
“Let’s hope not,” I say, and sip my coffee.
She sits down in the chair opposite me. “Here.” She passes a plate across the battered coffee table. “It’s the lemon blueberry, right out of the oven.”
The scent of lemon and sugar wafts in my nostrils. When I look at the girl, I see sparkling blue eyes, pale skin, dark hair held back with a headband, and rosebud lips. She’s a dead ringer for Audrey Hepburn, whom I’ve always had a crush on. But I don’t need a distraction. I need a plan.
Still, I tell her thanks. “Lemon blueberry really is the best.” I break off a piece and offer her some. “I’m Raina.”
