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I am already having a better morning than I planned. “Dr. Raines. Coffee?”

“Where is my phone?”

“In my custody. Sit, please.”

“I’ll stand.” Her chin comes up. “You have one minute to explain before I start screaming.”

“Screaming would be a waste of time. It only works with an audience that isn’t on payroll.” I lean back. “Here’s the arrangement. I require a private physician for international travel, beginning today. My mother lives outside Milan. She’s elderly, she doesn’t fly, and I take my family to her. You’ll accompany us, earning a fee that will embarrass your hospital salary. We leave within the hour, which is why your bag is already in the plane.”

She stares at me. Somewhere in the stare, disbelief loses ground to arithmetic. “You mean the bag your people packed. In my apartment. While I was asleep in your bed.”

“Efficient, no? They even packed your passport. Thought of everything.”

“I keep my passport in my underwear drawer, which means you sent a stranger through my underwear drawer.”

“I sent a professional through your underwear drawer. You’ll want for nothing.” I tilt my head, considering her anger. Human outrage fascinates me, especially when it’s a woman’s. Women are so often discouraged from being anything south of pleasant that when I come across it, I stoke that fire to watch it burn. I suspect Veda will burn bright.

“Help me understand, Doctor. A man showed you a firearm this morning and talked you into a car, and you rode forty minutes with your hands in your lap. The bag is what upsets you?”

Her mouth opens. Closes. The flush climbs her throat just as fast as it did last night, and for a related reason, which is that she hates being read and responds to it anyway. “I was getting to the gun.”

“Take your time. We have fifty minutes.”

“Oh, I’m only getting started.” It arrives in order now, the invasion of privacy, my parentage now questioned colorfully, my sanity on trial. I let it run without interruption, because she gets two shades prettier at full volume, and because everything she’s saying is true, which I appreciate.

Also, she throws in the coffee. “And your errand boy knew my order. My exact order. Pistachio latte, bacon-egg-and-cheese croissant, from my shop, which is not information a person can have unless—” She stops, recalculating the size of it.

“Your credit cards led us to your coffee shop. The barista knew your order. Lovely kid. Worries you work too much.”

“That is monstrously invasive.”

“It’s thorough. Last night, you liked thoroughness.” I stand, come around the desk, and lean against the front of it, which halves the distance and doubles her pulse, visible at her throat. I’m cataloging her tells the same as she cataloged my exits. “You approved of it twice before midnight, if memory serves.”

“Do not.” She levels a finger at me. “Do not bring last night into this.”

“Last night is the reason you’re furious instead of terrified, doc. You know exactly how careful my hands are.” I reach out and tuck the loose strand behind her ear, the same strand, the same gesture, and her breath catches on schedule.

Then she plants both hands on my chest and shoves.

I allow the two steps back to let her think she can move me when I don’t want to be moved. She’s breathing hard, warm eyes burning bright, jaw set, a woman who knows to the decimal how outgunned she is and swung anyway.

Fighter. The file was right for once. I smile down at her. “Feel better?”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m a sociopath, or so I’ve been told. The two get confused.”

She stops herself, regroups, tries the sentence from a safer door. “Last night was a mistake.”

“Last night was a revelation.” I watch the color come up her throat again and take my time enjoying the view. “But breathe. This trip is employment. Whatever else happens on it, you’ll ask for it. Maybe even beg for it. Nicely. You’ve had the training.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“You said that last night too. Different tone, though.” I return to my side of the desk, a concession with furniture. “Ask your questions. You’ve been loading them since the driveway.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the best maintenance-phase mind in the country, and you were within driving distance.”