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Jamison was looking from one to the other of us. He was frowning. Suspicious. Mary was sitting, chin leaning on her hands, enjoying the show.

The silence was damn awkward. Phillip put a hand out to Jamison. I mumbled. “Jamison Clarke, this is Phillip . . . a friend.” The moment I said it, I wanted to take it back. “Friend” is what people call their lovers. Beats the heck out of significant other.

Jamison smiled broadly. “So, you’re Anita’s . . . friend.” He said the last word slowly, rolling it around on his tongue.

Mary made a hubba-hubba motion with one hand. Phillip saw it and flashed her a dazzling melt-your-libido smile. She blushed.

“Well, we have to go now. Come along, Phillip.” I grabbed his arm and began pulling him towards the door.

“Nice to meet you, Phillip,” Jamison said. “I’ll be sure to mention you to all the rest of the guys who work here. I’m sure they’d love to meet you sometime.”

Jamison was really enjoying himself. “We’re very busy right now, Jamison. Maybe some other time,” I said.

“Sure, sure,” he said.

Jamison walked us to the door and held it for us. He grinned at us as we walked down the hallway, arm in arm. Fudge buckets. I had to let the smirking little creep think I had a lover. Good grief. And he would tell everyone. Phillip slid his arm around my waist, and I fought an urge to push him away. We were pretending, right, right. I felt him hesitate as his hand brushed the gun on my belt.

We met one of the real estate agents in the hall. She said hello to me but stared at Phillip. He smiled at her. When we passed her and were waiting for the elevator, I glanced back. Sure enough, she was watching his backside as we walked away.

I had to admit it was a nice backside. She caught me looking at her and hurriedly turned away.

“Defending my honor,” Phillip asked.

I pushed away from him and punched the elevator button. “What are you doing here?”

“Jean-Claude didn’t come back last night. Do you know why?”

“I didn’t do away with him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

The doors opened. Phillip leaned against them, holding them open with his body and one arm. The smile he flashed me was full of potential, a little evil, a lot of sex. Did I really want to be alone in an elevator with him? Probably not, but I was armed. He, as far as I could tell, was not.

I walked under his arm without having to duck. The doors hushed behind us. We were alone. He leaned into one corner, arms crossed over his chest, staring at me from behind black lenses.

“Do you always do that?” I asked.

A slight smile. “Do what?”

“Pose.”

He stiffened just a little, then relaxed against the wall. “Natural talent.”

I shook my head. “Uh-huh.” I stared at the flickering floor numbers.

“Is Jean-Claude all right?”

I glanced at him and didn’t know what to say. The elevator stopped. We got out. “You didn’t answer me,” he said softly.

I sighed. It was too long a story. “It’s almost noon. I’ll tell you what I can over lunch.”

He grinned. “Trying to pick me up, Ms. Blake?”

I smiled before I could stop myself. “You wish.”

“Maybe,” he said.

“Flirtatious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Most women like it.”

“I would like it better if I didn’t think you’d flirt with my ninety-year-old grandmother the same way you’re flirting with me now.”

He coughed back a laugh. “You don’t have a very high opinion of me.”

“I am a very judgmental person. It’s one of my faults.”

He laughed again, a nice sound. “Maybe I can hear about the rest of your faults after you’ve told me where Jean-Claude is.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

I stopped just in front of the glass doors that led out into the street. “Because I saw you last night. I know what you are, and I know how you get your kicks.”

His hand reached out and brushed my shoulder. “I get my kicks a lot of different ways.”

I frowned at his hand, and it moved away. “Save it, Phillip. I’m not buying.”

“Maybe by the end of lunch you will be.”

I sighed. I had met men like Phillip before, handsome men who are accustomed to women