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logo with his fingers. They were long and ended in neatly trimmed, clean fingernails. “It would be… more personal.”
    “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”
    He was silent, clearly in some sort of debate with himself. Then, “How long have you been doing investigations?”
    I shrugged. “Ten years or so.”
    “Are you licensed?”
    “Of course I’m licensed.” My response was a little terse, but I understood his caution. They were good questions to ask a PI before you allowed him to dig into your life.
    “Well, what kind of things would you do in your investigation?”
    “What would I be investigating?”
    He let out a brief puff of air that sent his hair flying.
    “Are you planning on telling me anytime soon?” I demanded.
    “I think I changed my mind,” he said.
    I squinted and cocked my head to one side. “Let me guess, an insurance scam. Or a lost pet. No, no, a cheating spouse.”
    He gave me a level look, and the smile slipped off my face. “I’m not married” was all he said.
    But a cheating girlfriend/fiancée/something, then. As if to buttress his silence, the door opened and a woman greeted the UPS man. She was pretty even from a distance, with a high ponytail and fitted yoga pants. She signed for her package and shut the door.
    “Sorry,” I murmured, hating the fact that I’d destroyed our easy banter. Well hell, he’s the one who brought up the private investigating business.
    “You get a lot of those?” he asked, a self-deprecating smile on his face.
    “What’s that?”
    “Cheating spouses.”
    “You’ve just described the majority of my day,” I said with a shrug.
    He sighed and looked at me. “You feel up for coffee?”
    I pointed at the Starbucks cup in his silver-rimmed cup holder, wondering how severe his brain injury was. “Are you aware that you are drinking coffee?”
    He picked it up and shook the Grande cup side to side. “I’m due a refill.” He turned the cup up to his mouth, and I did not watch the strong muscles in his throat working as he finished what was surely cold by now. “Ready?”
    I looked around for a moment, pondering, as if I wasn’t going to go with him. “I have to let Drew know. Then I’m ready.”
    “Drew?”
    “My partner,” I specified, winding down the passenger window and waving an arm briefly.
    “Partner?” Was it just my imagination or did he look slightly disappointed?
    “He owns half the business,” I specified. I didn’t care to examine why it was important that Mr. Unattainable was clear on the fact that Drew and I were platonic. “And he’s pulling up next to you, so unwind your window.”
    Drew’s car pulled up next to Jordan’s car, and his window went down again. “Are you about finished?” he asked, ignoring my companion completely. Drew wasn’t exactly known for his people skills.
    “Actually, I’m going to go have coffee with Mr. Channing, here.”
    “Go?” Drew repeated it as if it was a dirty word. “You’re going to go with this man? In his car?”
    “I think his flying carpet is in the shop,” I said, being an ass as usual. Jordan appreciated my humor, though, snorting lightly.
    “Mac, a word?” Drew said, his eyebrows snapping together in a way that boded ill. He waved me over to his side of the car, his expression saying don’t give me any crap .
    I got out and sidled over to his window.
    “I’m cooking spaghetti tonight. Are you in?”
    An unexpected opening that I took cautiously. Unexpected but pleasant. I’d expected him to blast me for potentially riding off with a perfect stranger. I shook my head with real regret. A couple of forkfuls of Drew’s delicious spaghetti with homemade sauce would go a long way toward redeeming this day. He’d learned how to cook in the military and rubbed it in my face when he didn’t invite me to dinner.
    “I’m bushed. After this meeting, I’m probably just going to head home and gnaw on a Lean Cuisine or