She looked at Harper again, who only now turned from the window to face her. So this man, Alex Harrington’s best friend, was a gamer? Her mind flew to the photos in her purse. Did he look like the man who’d been talking with Serena? His hair was more blond than brown, and his build was roughly the same, but there was no way to say. You’re being crazy. Focus, woman. You’re here to talk about Alex Harrington.

She saw something in his left hand. He was squeezing a yellow tennis ball in and out. A stress reliever?

Mia studied him. Her first thought was that Kent Harper didn’t have the look of a man who sat in the big office. Where was the Italian suit, the hair perfectly cut, the tie shrieking power? There was no attempt to impress. He wore black wool slacks, a white shirt, open at the neck. He was wearing the requisite Italian loafers at least, but his black wool jacket looked like it had been flung toward the coat-tree behind his quite beautiful art deco ebony desk, and barely managed to hook it. His blue eyes were full of curiosity as he looked at her. He had a laid-back vibe in a young college professor sort of way, his aviator glasses completing the image. But she didn’t think he could be all that laid-back, not squeezing the yellow tennis ball.

He nodded to Mrs. Wallaby, and she left, no offer of coffee, no offer of shortbread. On the other hand, Mr. Harper wasn’t running for office and Mia was a walk-in.

“Ms. Briscoe,” he said and smiled at her showing nice straight white teeth. He discreetly slipped the yellow ball into his pocket, stepped forward, shook her hand. “Please sit down. May I take your coat?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Alex just called, said you and he had enjoyed a short conversation. He told me you’d probably be dropping by and to make room for you.” He laughed. “You didn’t waste any time. I told him you’d have to buy insurance from me if you wanted a scoop about the skeletons in his closet.”

Mia changed her mind. She’d been expecting a longtime sidekick, Harrington’s Robin. But she didn’t think he was a Robin; he looked clever, his own man. She smiled back at him as she sat down in the chair he held out for her. She waited until he returned to his big chair behind his desk and said, “If you have any skeletons to offer, Mr. Harper, I’ll be happy to buy flood insurance, always a hazard for my eighteenth-floor apartment.”

He gave her a quick smile, nodded. “Call me Kent, please. May I call you Mia?”

“Of course.”