A short time ago he had removed his glasses, tucked them into a case and put the case on top of the duffel bag. In the paranormal radiance of the fog that swirled around the SUV, Harlan appeared to be contemplating the secrets of the universe through the skylight in the vehicle’s roof. Alchemist, she thought.

“What question?” she asked, mystified.

“The one you asked each of the men who sat down at your table at the speed date event. ‘If I disappeared tomorrow would you walk into hell to find me?’ ”

“Oh. That question. I was trying to be efficient.”

He turned his head to look at her. In the acid-green shadows his eyes burned. She heightened her senses and took a peek at his aura. Raw power and the control required to wield it blazed in the confines of the SUV. She was so close to him she was partially enveloped in his energy field. It felt good. Weirdly intimate, but good. Exciting. Enthralling.

Not for the first time she reminded herself she should be wary around Harlan Rancourt. Not for the first time she acknowledged she did not give a damn about being cautious. He was fascinating and intriguing, not unnerving or frightening.

“I get that you wanted to be efficient, but you must have realized your question was scaring off potential dates,” he said.

“That was pointed out to me by the woman sitting in the next booth. Like I said, I was just trying to save time.”

“Time you used to search for a cat online.”

“I did a little shopping, too,” she said, feeling unaccountably defensive. “Then I decided to take another look at Joe.”

“The cat.”

“He’ll probably be gone by the time we’re finished with this case. I just hope whoever adopts him will give him his forever home.”

“I don’t think Joe is going to get adopted anytime soon,” Harlan said.

“Why not?”

“He looked tough. A junkyard cat.”

“He’s had a rough life, but he’s still young. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give some human a chance.”

“You could tell all that from an online photo?”

“Something about his eyes.”

“And maybe wishful thinking on your part?”

“Joe is an excellent cat,” she said. “He deserves a good home.”

“If you say so. About your question—”

She levered herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. “Okay, here’s the story behind my speed date question. Not long ago I thought I was falling in love with a very nice man who checked most of the boxes. We enjoyed each other’s company. Had a lot in common. He has a good job and a stable, healthy aura. The kidnappers grabbed me as I was on my way to meet him for a date. He was cooking dinner.”

“He cooks, too?”