She and Coop had spent most of yesterday in bed, and not once had she been plagued by the emptiness that had always come over her when she was with a man—the panicky disconnect that made her look for excuses to get away. With Coop, there’d been nearly as much talking as there’d been sex. She’d described a couple of Duke’s more interesting investigations. He’d talked about ranch life and urban gardening. They’d exchanged surprisingly similar opinions about politics and religion. He’d even pried out some stories about her schizophrenic upbringing—stories she now regretted sharing. Too much talking. Too many places inside her she didn’t want him to see. From now on, she was leaving his place as soon as he put his clothes back on.

Wylie Hill had either genuinely hurt his back unloading boxes or was the laziest man alive, because he didn’t do much except sit on his stoop. By late the next afternoon, when she couldn’t stand the boredom any longer, she made a quick trip to her office and did some work on her Web site. As she was getting ready to lock back up and return to her stakeout, Coop appeared, bringing an influx of testosterone along with him. He gazed around, taking in the framed posters of pulp detective magazine covers. “You really do have an office.”

“A little humbler than yours, but it’ll work until my luxury suite in the Hancock opens up.” She surreptitiously turned the notepad she’d been writing on facedown. “What are you doing here?”

“Curious to see how the other half lives.” He reached across her desk and flipped over the notepad she’d tried to conceal. “Your shrink?”

She’d intended to keep what she’d learned to herself until she had more information, but she couldn’t do that now. “I finally tracked down your ex-bartender. He’s working in a Bridgeport dive bar.”

“You weren’t planning to tell me about it?”

“After I talked to him. That’s what you pay me to do, remember?”

“Right.” He skirted the borders of the rug to poke at the soil of her windowsill orchid, a gift from Amber. “When are you going to see him?”

“Tonight. He goes on duty at nine. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“No need. I’m going with you. And you’re overwatering that orchid.”

“Thanks for the info, and you’ll only complicate things. Now, go away. I have some surveillance work to do for a new client.” And simply breathing your oxygen is fogging my brain.

“Great. I’ll come along. It’ll be interesting to get a glimpse into the seedier side of your life.”

“Surveillance is way too boring for you.”

“I can handle it.”

At first he did. But after a few hours, he grew restless and stared rummaging around in her backseat. “Got anything to eat in here?”