His gaze shifted to her phone. She realized he could see Joe. Hastily she turned off the tech and dropped it into her handbag. Resting one hand protectively on the bag as if trying to conceal a secret, she examined her date more closely.

His name tag read John.

Pity about his style, or lack thereof. John looked as if he was deliberately trying to fade into the woodwork. The dark gray suit with its white shirt and narrow, navy blue tie were so ordinary and so un-Seattle that he actually stood out in a room filled with men dressed in various versions of the Pacific Northwest gear look—a casual mash-up of jeans, sneakers, black pullovers and backpacks. His hair was cut short and neatly parted on the side. He wore a pair of black-framed glasses.

Everything about him shouted ordinary, boring, nonthreatening. He reminded her of the sign posted on the outskirts of her hometown, Fogg Lake: Welcome to Fogg Lake. Nothing to See Here. And just as with Fogg Lake, there were a lot of secrets under the surface.

Her new date was the most interesting man in the room.

She took a deep breath and lowered her talent so that she was no longer distracted by his fascinating aura. She did not want to scare off this date. She had to open a dialogue. She knew how to do this. She interviewed nervous clients every day at Lark & LeClair.

“Hi,” she said, trying for flirty and charming. Nonthreatening. Her inner voice was shrieking, Don’t screw up. “My name is Olivia and my question—”

“The answer is yes,” John the monster said. “If you disappeared I would walk into hell to find you. I know the way. I’ve been there.”

CHAPTER 5

Olivia stared at him. “Who are you?”

It was clear she was beyond startled or surprised. She was disoriented. Shaken. Stunned. What Harlan did not understand was why he was feeling some very similar sensations. Sure, it had been a long day. A long week. A long five years. Still. No excuses. He had spent a lot of time and effort learning the discipline of self-control.

He reminded himself he could not afford to lose focus. He leaned forward and lowered his voice so that he would not be overheard.

“My name isn’t John,” Harlan said. “I just grabbed the name tag of someone who apparently did not show up tonight. I’m Harlan Rancourt. I believe you’re expecting me.”

The stunned expression vanished from her amazing eyes. She pulled herself together in a heartbeat.

“Well, crap,” she said.

“I get that a lot.”

She slid out of the booth and reached back for her handbag and coat. “Let’s go. Tonight has been a waste of time. Might as well do some work.”

He rose and prepared to follow her. The woman seated in the neighboring booth gave Olivia a small knowing smile. What the hell was that about? he wondered.