“Not many fans come around this late at night,” he said slowly. “They figure I’ll have dogs patrolling the grounds.” His eyes rose to hers. “Melissa and Rick thought I’d made a date for the show.”
She smiled again, wistfully this time. Much as she might have liked it, she wasn’t his date. “Not quite.”
His mouth twitched against a smile of his own. “I’d pretend, if you would.”
She was melting. “I couldn’t really. I’m here on business.”
“At this hour?”
She nodded.
He looked her up and down once, then studied her face, feature by feature. “You do look businesslike,” he admitted, “except for your face.”
Unsure of what to make of his comment, she didn’t say anything. For if he was interested in her features, she was positively intrigued by his. His straight hair was a heathery shade just slightly darker than blond. It slanted across his forehead, swept back to cover the tops of his ears, then curved down to his collar. Just a tad longer than the current style, it was unique without being extreme. She liked it.
She also liked his jaw, which was shadowed and firm, and his chin, which was gently squared with a hint of a groove at its center. She liked the straight, strong lines of his mouth and the chiseled cut of his nose. And she liked his pale blue eyes which were accented by his sandy coloring much like a clear sky over a beach. He was refreshing to look at.
“Your face,” he went on in a husky tone, “isn’t businesslike at all.”
With a single hard swallow and a blink to combat the spell she felt herself under, she said, “That must be because I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Then why are you here so late on business?”
“Because I wasn’t sure when else to reach you. I knew you’d be doing your show at twelve. I was prepared to wait.”
“Must be important business.”
“It is,” she said, though for the life of her she didn’t feel any urgency at the moment. Jared Snow was a powerful presence. He excited her, separated her from all she had been. At the same time, he brought her an odd sense of peace.
“Rick says you’re with the attorney general’s office. Are you a lawyer?”
She nodded. “With the criminal division.”
He arched a brow. “And you want to see me?”
Again, she nodded. She knew she should tell him about Megan and ask if he knew of any possible link to the radio station. But she wasn’t ready to formally discuss business with him yet.
And Jared seemed content to wait. “Then you’re a trial lawyer?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Any specialty within the specialty?”
“I take whatever comes in. Since I’ve been at the AG’s office—”
“How long is that?”
“Five years. Since I’ve been there, I’ve prosecuted everything from larceny to murder and rape.”
He looked puzzled. When she returned his puzzled look, he explained, “You don’t look like the type to try a murder case. You don’t look hard enough.”
A staunch feminist would have bristled at his remark. But Savannah wasn’t a feminist. She did what she did, not to best the men of the world but because of a driving need to excel at whatever she tried.
But he was right. She wasn’t tough enough emotionally despite her ability to function successfully in all outward appearances. She wondered exactly how revealing her face was just then.
“Let’s just say,” she said and drew herself up to compensate for whatever weaknesses her expression might betray, “that I rise to the occasion. Of the seven murder cases I’ve tried, I’ve won convictions in five.”
“Not bad.”
