But that wasn’t what she wanted.

Wasn’t what he needed.

“If it’s any help,” he added, “remember that I’m a very wealthy man, and the odds of anything you order here or anywhere else putting even a dent in my income are very small. Consider it a challenge to do your worst.”

She swallowed hard and managed a dazed nod. “Fine.” The rasp in her voice moved over him like a soft caress, and her shy smile made him want to wrap her up and keep the rest of the world far away from her. “Then make it a mocha latte and add one of those almond croissants.”

His hand was at her cheek before he could check the motion, his thumb tracing a path against her delicate skin. “Well done. There’s hope for you yet.”

He placed the order, adding a macchiato and a lemon burrata cheesecake for himself. Rather than finding her waiting for him at a table, she stood near the farthest wall staring up at the many photos mounted in a haphazard pattern, her hands firmly planted on her hips.

“I recall you mentioning a love of photography.” He slid the tray onto the tabletop and stood beside her. “What interests you about these?”

Her gaze moved slowly from one to the other, a soft wonder he’d never seen before etched on her face. “They’re very evocative. Candid, but captured at a time that shows a depth of personality or emotion.” She faced him and, for a moment, that beautiful softness was aimed solely his way. Her wry grin crept in, though, and swept it away. “It’s harder to master than you’d think.”

“I suspect you’ve got a knack for it.”

She shook her head and pulled out a chair. “Not really. I wish it were, but composition and lighting are more my specialty.”

He waited until she was seated before he followed suit. “I’d like to see your work.”

“Oh, it’s just a hobby,” she said as she gathered her items from the tray. “Something I do to unwind or give my brain a chance to untangle something difficult.” Whether she realized it or not, her voice took on a melancholy tone and the smile on her face was disconcertingly sad.

Neither sat well with him, but before he could find a way to dig into the reason for the change, she seemed to shrug the response off and lifted her head. “So, I know you want me to help you figure out who’s been the most impacted by Alfonsi no longer being around, but I need something from you before I can do that.”

Interesting. Definitely not the direction he’d anticipated their conversation to go. “Is this a negotiation?”

“More of an assurance so I can sleep at night.”

Reasonable. And indicative that his feisty reporter had been thinking a lot about what he needed since yesterday. “Then by all means...tell me what you require.”

She sipped her coffee, her gaze trained on the table. Even once she set the mug back on its saucer, it took her a handful of seconds to seem to find the words. Once she did, she directed her attention squarely on him. “I need to know what you plan to do with the information I give you.”