Nick slumped back in his seat, shaking his head. He set down his beer, threading his fingers behind his neck. “You really want to talk about that?”
“Why not? You offered to help me with research for my book.”
“From what I read, you had the crime angles all figured out. I thought maybe I could help you with the other stuff.”
“What other stuff?”
“You know, the romantic bits.”
I stopped chewing. “What’s wrong with my romantic bits?”
“Nothing.” His gaze fell to the plunging neckline of my dress as he nursed a long, slow sip. “I admit it. That book Pete let me borrow was pretty hot. Especially the part during the stakeout, when she made out with the cop in the front seat of his car, and then she climbed on his lap and—”
“Just dinner.” My face warmed and I slugged down another shot.
He grinned into his beer. “Right. Just dinner.”
His eyes flicked over the room. “I did say you could ask me anything.” I paused, my piroshki poised halfway to my lips as he leaned his elbows on the table and lowered his voice. “If the kid’s right and the forum is being used as a front, we’ll probably send an undercover in. We’ll set up a sting, make a few arrests, and find a canary. Then we’ll dangle a deal in front of them and hope they sing.” Nick leaned back in his seat, lips pressed shut as our waiter approached the table with the rest of our meal. Ivan placed a heaping plate of stroganoff in front of me, and it was all I could do to keep from kissing him.
Nick waited for Ivan to leave before continuing. “Joey’s back in the office on Monday. Hopefully by then, I’ll know what we’re dealing with.” He forked into his chicken Kiev, his eyes roving around the restaurant as he ate. “What’s your new book about anyway?” he asked between bites.
“It’s just the next book in the series. The same character. You know… a hit woman… getting framed… solving crimes.”
“Is the hotshot cop still in the picture?”
I gave a tentative nod. “He’s in the story. For now.”
“For now?”
“It’s still a rough draft.”
“How about the lawyer?”
Our eyes caught across the table. How much had Vero told him when he’d been sitting at my kitchen table while I was with Bree? I twirled my fork through my noodles. “He went missing.”
“Is she looking for him?”
“I don’t know. It’s a little early in the story for that. Maybe she’s worrying for nothing.”
“Maybe not. She’s smart. She should trust her instincts.”
“And do what?”
He shrugged. “She could ask the cop for help.”
I laughed, the vodka dissolving the walls I’d been holding up. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea. She and the cop have a history. He’s too close to her. There’d be a clear conflict of interest.”
“Oh, he’s definitely interested.” I lifted my eyes and found Nick watching me across the table. I didn’t think it was the beer that had roughened his voice. Or the candlelight that made his irises darken. We definitely weren’t talking about my book anymore.
With a thoughtful pause, I set down my fork. I certainly didn’t want his help finding Julian. But maybe he could help me find someone else. “Let’s say my character did want to search for a missing person on her own… someone who didn’t want to be found. How might the cop suggest she go about it?”
His brow creased. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? She might not like what she finds.”
“You saidanything.”
A resigned sigh escaped him. He set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Has she checked the location services on his phone?”
“No luck.”
