My eyes widened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, waving my hands in protest. “I can’t watch two of you and bring in Lee.”

David ran his eyes down my casual sweater and jeans, his eyes thick with a calculating evaluation. They lingered on my shortened hair, dyed a temporary brown just this afternoon as he had suggested over the phone. “Mrs. Aver isn’t going to come with us,” he said, making what was probably an unconscious nod of approval. “I thought it prudent that your neighbors see me arrive with a woman as well as leave with one. You’re close to the same body build.”

“Oh.” Idiot, I thought. Why didn’t I think of that?

Mrs. Aver smiled, but I could tell she thought I was an idiot, too. “I’ll just pop into your bathroom and change, and then I’ll go,” she said brightly. Taking a step into the room, she set her slim briefcase beside the piano bench and hesitated.

Ivy started. “This way,” she said, indicating that the woman should follow her.

“Thank you. You’re so kind.”

Making a small face for all the hidden undercurrents, I watched Mrs. Aver and Ivy leave, the former making a lot of noise in her bland black heels, the latter silent in her slippers. Their conversation ended with the click of my bathroom door shutting, and I turned to David.

He looked like a completely different Were outside of his spandex running pants and shirt. And nowhere near the same person the time I saw him leaning against a park tree in a duster that went to his boot tops and a cowboy hat pulled over his eyes. His heavy stubble was gone, to leave sun-roughed cheeks, and his long hair was styled and smelled of moss. Only the highest ranking Weres could carry off polish and not look like they were trying, but David managed it. The three-piece suit and manicured fingernails helped. He looked older than his athletic physique would testify, with a pair of glasses perched on his nose and a tie snugged up to his neck. Actually, he looked really good—in a professional, educated sort of way.

‘Thanks again for helping me get in to see Saladan,” I said, feeling awkward.

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “I’m getting a huge bonus.” He set his expensive-looking suitcase on the piano bench. He seemed preoccupied—not angry with me, but wary and disapproving. It made me uncomfortable. Sensing me watching him, he looked up. “Mind if I do a little prep paperwork?”

I shifted back a step. “No. Go right ahead. You want some coffee?”

David looked at Jenks’s desk and hesitated. Brow furrowing, he sat astride the piano bench and opened his briefcase up before him. “No thanks. We won’t be here that long.”