He was good at reading people. It was one of the reasons his company had become so successful. She felt responsible in some way for the senator’s death and she was determined to make it right.
Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrong about a woman. He had good instincts, but hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrong about a man.
The powder room was beginning to feel confining. Or maybe it was Cassidy’s soft perfume. Or that if he leaned just a little closer, he could brush against those magnificent breasts. He forced himself to concentrate.
“So let’s say I know where those papers you’re after might be—if they exist at all. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. You’re a private investigator—I’ll hire you to help me find my dad’s killer.”
“Are you serious?”
“You take the job, I’ll pay you double your usual fee, butwe work together, and you don’t hand anything over to the police without my say-so. And my decision is final.”
Interest sparked in those big green eyes. She was watching him as closely as he’d been watching her. “I won’t do anything illegal.”
“You ever heard of breaking and entering? You broke into someone else’s house. You’re here without permission.”
She glanced down, toyed with her heavy Maglite. “Point taken, but I still won’t—”
“Fine. Nothing illegal.” But she had better be prepared for what his father might have done. Odds were his dad was involved up to his silver-threaded eyebrows in God-only-knew what. Beau figured he’d handle the problem if or when it arose.
“Where’s the stuff hidden?” Cassidy asked.
“Unfortunately, it’s in the study.”
She rolled those big green eyes. “I was afraid of that.”
* * *
“You agreed we wouldn’t do anything illegal,” Cassidy hissed as they headed down the hall to the study. “Interfering with a police investigation is a criminal offense.”
“So is burglary, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”
She was only planning tolookat the documents, not steal them, maybe take some photos with her cell, but she didn’t say that. Not when she had just been hired to do exactly what she was going to do without being paid.
Plus, she’d have Beau’s cooperation—at least to a point.
Following his long, lanky strides down the passage, she couldn’t help remembering the leashed power of his body as he’d taken her down with an ease that was frightening. She couldn’t help remembering the hard, sinewy muscles that had pinned her to the carpet in some kind ofwrestling move, her legs splayed, Beau nestled intimately between them.
She had heard of women who harbored rape fantasies. Cassidy definitely wasn’t one of them. Still, there was a split second when she had realized it was Beau, realized she was completely at his mercy, that she had really been turned on.
On the other hand, there were probably a dozen women who would want to have wild monkey sex with Beau Reese.
He paused at the study door, reached down and turned the knob, carefully eased the door open. Fingerprints wouldn’t be a problem. Both of them had been in the study. Their prints would be all over the room.
Beau’s black, high-top sneakers squeaked as he crossed the gleaming hardwood floor, stopping next to a small oak four-drawer stand against the wall. Pulling the stand a few feet away, he knelt in front of the spot where the furniture had been sitting.
Long tanned fingers slid over the surface of the wood floor, feeling for a break in the boards. Finding it, he took out his pocketknife and opened the blade, used it to pry out a square of wood so perfectly fitted it had been completely invisible.
A two-foot-by-two-foot opening about eighteen inches deep appeared in the floor. When Beau shined his flashlight inside, Cassidy could see a stack of manila files, along with what appeared to be a small box containing a pair of USB flash drives.
Her pulse quickened. She’d been right about the senator. Whatever was in that hole could very well lead them to his killer.
Beau scooped up the files and handed them over, grabbed the flash drives and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans, then replaced the panel in the floor. He slid thefurniture back into place, motioned for her to retreat, and both of them stepped out into the hall.
A few minutes later, they were standing in the living room of the guest house, the curtains closed, the files spread open on a table in front of the granite counter along a wall of appliances that served as a compact kitchen.
“There’s a lot of stuff here,” Cassidy said. “It’s going to take some time to go over.” But she was already thumbing through the files, searching for anything that involved the names the senator had given her.
Beau caught on in a heartbeat. “You’re looking for something that pertains to the people he mentioned.”
