Claire Elizabeth Morgan stared back at him, a plain face framed by hair so neat and perfect it could have been a plastic wig. Frigid, he couldn’t help thinking, suddenly reminded of the nuns at St. Ignatius, where he had attended school until his parents’ deaths.

He scanned the rest of the information at a glance. Age: thirty-one. Hair: brown. Eyes: brown. The address was clear across town, in the burbs. What the hell had she been doing here? He snapped the wallet shut and stuffed it into the purse. The night was still young.

Might as well get it over with.

CHAPTER TWO

The birth of a pup can be a tricky thing; it must be monitored closely, especially the first night.

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

Gideon located the light switch in the apartment. As light flooded the small space, he took a good look at the home of Claire Morgan: age thirty-one, street sense nil. The tidy living area’s sparse furnishings reflected a modest life. From the worn, floral print couch to the brass-hinged old chest that functioned as a coffee table, everything pointed to the humble, unassuming nature of its sole inhabitant.

A green-eyed cat blinked at him before jumping down from the couch and disappearing into the bedroom. Gideon’s lips twisted in amusement and he wondered how ol’ tabby was going to welcome her new mommy home tonight.

Family pictures lined the walls. He surveyed the photos, immediately picking out his quarry posing with family members. Dad, mom, grandparents—he identified these easily, pausing to more closely inspect Claire’s husky father. The man’s hard eyes demanded a second look. In every picture, he gripped his wife’s shoulder or arm—but not lovingly. More like he was afraid she might bolt from his side at any moment. Gideon inspected the rest of the photos. No boyfriends. At least no one important enough to grace a frame. Good. It improved her chances of returning home alone.

He could do what he had to and leave.

Of course, she could have called a friend or family member and be staying the night with them. Depending on the severity of her injury, a loved one might insist on looking after her. Yet she’d been able to walk away. Her injury could not have been too great and no matter the severity, she would recover. Sooner than humanly possible. Her newly altered DNA possessed tremendous regeneration ability.

Two strides took him to her bedroom. A captivating scent assailed him. He lingered in the doorway, inhaling. Gardenia and something else… faint and powdery. He flipped on the light and beheld a room as clean and orderly as the living room.