“Lord, you are charming.” He chuckled and stretched out his legs, pleased she’d chosen the seat facing him rather than the one beside him. Now he could look his fill when she was awake. “Why private investigations?”

“Hmmm?”

His lips curved again. “It’s time I asked, don’t you think? What made you choose your profession?”

“I like to figure things out.” She moved her shoulders and started to rise to take her empty plate away. But he stood up and took it into the galley himself.

“It’s that simple?”

“I believe in the rules.” The seats were roomy, so she tucked her legs up and crossed them. She was comfortable, she realized. Refreshed from the nap, and from a surge of hope that had yet to fade. Easy in his company. Well, she supposed, anything was possible.

“And I think when you break the rules somebody should make you pay for it.” She felt the subtle shift and change in the cabin as the plane began its descent into Atlanta. “I also like to figure things out—by myself. That’s why I only made a pretty good cop but I make a really good PI.”

“So, you’re not a team player.”

“Nope.” She cocked her head. “Are you?”

“No.” He smiled into his wine. “I suppose not.” Then, abruptly, his eyes were intense again, focused on her. Into her, she thought. “But rules often change, Mel. The lines between right and wrong sometimes blur. When that happens, how do you choose?”

“By knowing what things shouldn’t change, what lines can’t be blurred—or crossed. You just feel it.”

“Yeah.” With that sudden flash of power banked again, he nodded. “You just feel it.”

“It has nothing to do with being psychic.” She thought she understood just where he was leading her. She wasn’t ready to give him quite that much rope. “I don’t go in for visions or second sight or whatever you call it.”

He lifted his glass in toast. “But you’re here, aren’t you?”

Her eyes remained level. If he expected her to squirm, he’d be disappointed. “Yeah, I’m here, Donovan. I’m here because I won’t risk not following up any lead—no matter how slim, or how weird.”

He continued smiling. “And?”

“And because maybe I’m willing to consider that you might have seen or felt something. Or maybe you just had a good gut hunch. I believe in hunches.”

“So do I, Mel.” The plane bumped down on the runway. “So do I.”

*  *  *

It was always difficult to turn over the reins to another. Mel didn’t mind cooperating with local authorities or the FBI, but she preferred doing it on her own terms. For David’s sake, she had to bite her tongue a dozen times during the interview with Federal Agent Thomas A. Devereaux.