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“Adventurous.”
“Exactly.”
“And you decided a motorcycle club would be a good place to start?”
“It's an option.”
He studies me.
“Which client?”
“Confidential.”
“Of course.”
“Client privacy is important.”
“So's mine.”
Damn. That was a good answer.
“My job involves researching potential matches. Sometimes that means looking beyond the usual professional circles.”
“And climbing through windows?”
“That wasn't part of the original plan.”
“What was?”
I hesitate.
His eyes sharpen.
“Tell me something, sweetheart. Does your agency usually send researchers into men's bedrooms?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why were you in mine?”
“I was looking for information.”
“What kind?”
“Something that would help me decide whether you'd be a suitable match.”
He leans forward.
“And what exactly were you hoping to find in my bedroom?”
Damn.
He's found the one question I can't answer without inventing details he could check.
“That's confidential.”
“Convenient.”
“Are you always this difficult?”
