Page 147 of No Headlines Please

"But why would he ask you? Do you play private detective in your free time or something?"

I almost laughed. "Hell no. Like I said, it was a favor for a friend. I was having my people do it."

She gave me an expectant look. "But…?"

"But I had this meeting near Tessa's building, and I popped in afterward to take a look."

She motioned for me to continue. "And?"

"And right away, I run into the janitor—"

"Walt."

I shrugged. "Apparently."

"But he's the building manager, not the janitor."

"So you say. Except I didn't know that at the time. But I give him some beer money and ask him to keep an eye out. After he leaves, I stick around to make a phone call. It was supposed to be quick, except it wasn't. And I'm just finishing up when I happen to look out the front windows, and guess who I see, dragging a suitcase outside."

Understanding dawned on her face. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." I almost smiled at the memory. "Do you remember stopping to check your reflection?"

She grimaced. "Yeah, I was a total mess."

I knew what she meant. Her shirt had been dirty, her hair had been windblown, and her skin had been flushed from the sun. And yet, there'd been something about her, right from the start, that had made me sit up and notice – and not because of the favor.

Now I did smile. "Nah. You were the girl in the photo."

She hesitated. "Wait a minute…"

"What?"

"Oh, my God," she groaned. "Admit it. You did run into me on purpose."

Busted. "Maybe."

Okay, so I hadn't planned on the collision. But I had arrived at the door at precisely the same time. And I hadn't jumped back when her suitcase had snagged, sending her stumbling into me.

Instead, I'd held firm, letting the collision happen, thinking it would give me a good excuse to stop and talk.

I didn't regret it.

Looking half amused, half outraged, she said, "So you let me ruin your shirt?"

I grinned. "Totally worth it."

Delaney gave me a sheepish smile. "I still have it, by the way, the hydrangea."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "But it's looking a little rough. I think it needs a permanent home."

That word – home – sounded way too good on Delaney's lips. I'd be smart to change the subject. "Speaking of flowers…you remember the woman who looked mad about the mess?"

"In the lobby? You mean Mrs. Stelter, right? The same one who almost caught us kissing?" As she said, her cheeks reddened, as if we'd been caught naked between floors.

I liked that about her.