It was like charming a brick wall. No, that wasn’t true. I’d charmed plenty of brick walls. This guy was a black hole of charisma. The more I tried with him, the more I realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere.
Still, it was a challenge I wanted to see if I could pull off.
“You’re going to let us up,” I said. I turned everything I had up to eleven, every ounce of charm, every hint of attraction, everything that should make him fall at my feet like I was Helen of Troy.
There was a slight flicker behind his eyes, and two grooves appeared between his eyebrows. He’d never in his life thought another man was attractive, but I could tell for a second he wasintome, then his partner cleared his throat.
Arms still crossed, Elevator Guard looked unimpressed. “If Mr. Griffith is not expecting you, then you need to leave.”
By the time I looked back at Suspicious, his face was back to its neutral setting, all my hard work flushed down the drain.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, guys.”
As we walked out, I saw Nick grinning out of the corner of my eye.
“You didn’t help at all,” I said, pointing at him. We walked across the street.
“Hey, I’m on vacation,” Nick said. “Plus, I was curious to see if you’d go as far as a strip show.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” I groused.
“You were ten seconds away from batting your eyelashes and throwing cartoon floating kisses.” Nick blinked his own eyes, his stupid-long lashes exaggerating the move.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I might’ve gone a little overboard on the charm.”
“You were just lucky that Vice wasn’t around,” Nick said. “They’d have arrested you for solicitation.”
We arrived at the car and both slid in. I lowered the windows again and reached in the back for another bag of snacks.
“How are you sure he’s going to leave?” Nick said.
“I’m not,” I said. “But that’s the parking garage, and I’d bet he isn’t going to stay in his apartment all day. Plus, isn’t sitting around doing nothing what you cops do best?”
“Pass me the chips,” Nick said.
I did and pulled out a mini DVD player I kept around for this purpose. Nick raised an eyebrow and watched as I selected a DVD from the case I’d stashed in back.
“Do you even know what his car looks like?” Nick asked.
I grinned. “Oh, do you think only the cops have access to DMV records? For twenty dollars I could get his social security number and the name of his dog in second grade.”
Grumbling, Nick slouched back in his seat. “What are we watching?”
It turnedout that while Nick had done stakeouts before, notably when he caught me after I’d climbed out of a shallow grave, he’d never done it with snacks, a miniature DVD player, and running commentary on the fifth season ofHow I Met Your Mother.
“See? This is the high life,” I said.
“Are you sure you’re not going to miss him?” Nick asked.
Using a curved Frito chip, I gestured to the garage and glanced down at my notes. “Have you seen a two-year-old Acura leave that garage? License plate number 7CDB813?”
Nick tilted his head and gave me a smile, but when the scene changed on the mini screen, he burst out, “She can’t be taking this guy seriously.”
“Yeah, the writing of her character is a little inconsistent,” I said. “It gets better later. You really haven’t seen this series?”
“It’s not my style,” he said.
“Your style being documentaries in foreign languages that you have to buy on DVD because they aren’t streaming anywhere,” I said.
