"Long enough." He stepped closer and peered down at her with his "be-afraid" look. He'd used it on gangbangers and CIs and even a few terrorists. But instead of looking intimidated, she looked pissed.

"So you're spying on me now? What is this, Big Brother?"

"You told me you'd be careful."

"I am careful."

"You're oblivious. I've had a tail on you for half an hour. You broke two traffic laws. You walked past a dark alley twice. You let some guy pick you up in the snack aisle. You stopped beside a Dumpster to talk to a homeless man-"

"I didn't let someone pick me up!"

"That beefcake by the chips. Don't tell me he wasn't hitting on you."

"He wasn't hitting on me!"

"Oh, yeah? What'd he say?"

Her mouth dropped open.

He took her groceries and started walking down the sidewalk toward her house.

"Hey!" she shouted after him.

He kept going, and finally he heard her heels on the sidewalk as she hurried to catch up.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking you home."

She walked beside him, almost matching his stride with those long legs. "For your information, I'm not oblivious to my safety. I've taken self-defense classes."

"Good."

"Not that it's any of your business."

They turned down her street, and he scanned the area. It was quiet. Dark except for the streetlamps. He liked that her across-the-street neighbor had a Doberman.

"You hear anything from Amy's boyfriend?"

"No." Her voice was calmer now.

He glanced at her. She wore a sleeveless black dress that clung to everything. The only color on her today was her wine red hair and matching lips.

"What about Amy?" he asked.

"She's avoiding me. I haven't talked to her since the other day. I think she's embarrassed."

They came to her sidewalk, and he motioned for her to go first. She dug a key out of her roomy black purse and went up the steps. He followed her.

"That guy was hitting on you."

She shook her head and unlocked the door. Then she turned and gazed up at him. "You want to tell me why you're really here?"

"I've got a warrant for you."

CHAPTER 7.

Her chest tightened. "An arrest warrant?"

He walked into her kitchen and set all her bags on the table.

"Will?"

"A search warrant. You want these drinks in the fridge?" He started unloading groceries. She closed and locked the front door, giving herself a second to regroup before answering. He'd come for her computer. And maybe to search her house. She should probably call Ackerman.

She went into the kitchen and took the six pack of Diet Cokes out of his hand. "I'll do it."

She made quick work of unloading the bags while he leaned against her counter, watching her.

"I went to the Randolph," he said.

The Randolph. For some reason, hearing the name made her uncomfortable. She and David had spent the night there at least half a dozen times. It was their romantic hideaway, and Will the supersleuth had probably figured that out.

Courtney put away everything except the bread, the cheese, and the butter. She needed comfort food in a major way.

"What'd you find out?" she asked casually.

"A lot of interesting things." He crossed his arms over his chest.

She bent down and retrieved a nonstick skillet from the cabinet beneath the stove. She switched on the gas burner.

"Apparently you weren't the only person who knew John as 'David' Alvin. That's the name he used whenever he stayed at that hotel. He even had a credit card issued under that name."

Courtney unwrapped a stick of butter. She felt vindicated, at least somewhat. She'd never liked the fact that she'd bought into his lies.

Not that she'd completely bought in. The nagging sense that something wasn't right had prompted her to poke through his pockets and his BlackBerry and, finally, to go searching on the Internet until she came across a John David Alvin at the Austin law firm of Wilkers & Riley.

"He spent the night at that hotel sixteen times during the past year. When was the last time you were there?"

She watched a thick pat of butter go liquid in the pan. The edges started to bubble and brown. She opened the package of cheese and peeled off several slices. "January."

"You sure about that?"

She opened a fresh loaf of honey wheat bread. "Our entire relationship lasted less than a month. If he's been at the Randolph since January, it wasn't with me." She tilted the skillet, spreading the butter around, and then laid down two slices of bread. "You hungry?" She glanced at Will, whose attention was fixed on the pan.

"No. Thanks."

"I haven't eaten all day." She layered two slices of cheese on each piece of bread, and then topped them off with more honey wheat.

Not only had she skipped lunch, she hadn't taken so much as a coffee break. She'd been on her feet since 10:00, and the salon had been unusually hectic for a Sunday. Thank God tomorrow was her day off. Courtney bent over to untie the straps of her sandals. She stepped out of them and sighed with relief as her soles rested flat against the cool linoleum floor. Much better.

She glanced up, and Will was watching her, frowning.

"Those things hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you wear them?"

She smirked and tossed the shoes into a carpeted corner of the living room. "They look good, and I'm in the beauty business. Why do you wear a holster all the time?"

"It holds my gun."

"And it looks intimidating. Projects the tough-guy image."

He nodded at the pan. "I think that's done."

She took out a spatula and flipped the sandwiches. "What else did you find out at the Randolph?"

"A number of things."

She stepped toward him, and he drew back. She reached around him and opened the cabinet where she kept her plates.

She made him tense. It was the kiss, most likely. He still thought she was going to jump him. There was probably something in the Good Cop Handbook about getting busy with your prime suspect.

She took down two dinner plates and set them on the counter beside the stove. She transferred the sandwiches to the plates, sliced them in half diagonally, and then took some potato chips out of the pantry. She heaped a moun tain of Ruffles beside Will's grilled cheese and handed him the plate.

"I said I wasn't hungry," he said, looking down at it hungrily.

"You lied."

She took two bottles of water from her fridge, plopped them on the table, and sank into a chair. She picked up a warm half sandwich. The cheese was all soft and melty, and she closed her eyes to enjoy the first bite.

Will scraped back a chair and sat down across from her. He picked up a chip.

"I would have figured you for Baked Lays. Or sunflower seeds or something."

She wrinkled her nose.

"This is good," he said after a few bites.

"I know. The key is using salted butter."

He watched her as he opened his water and took a sip. It felt nice having him at her table. It almost felt like they were friends, like he wasn't sitting there with a warrant in his pocket.

"You ever heard the name Beatrice Moore?"

Courtney returned her attention to her sandwich. "No."

"What about Beatrice Morris?"

"I don't know anyone named Beatrice. Why?"

He watched her silently.

"Who is she?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "She seems to have left town."

Courtney wasn't following. She nibbled a few chips, waiting for him to explain, but he just kept watching her.

"You said Alvin was working on a big case while you guys were seeing each other. Was that made up, or do you think he was for real?"

"It was real." She took a swig of water. "It was some trial that had been dragging on for weeks. He was always getting phone calls and e-mails about it on his BlackBerry."

"How do you know?"

She lifted a brow.

"You snooped through his BlackBerry?"

"I was suspicious. He acted strange sometimes. Secretive. I thought it might be another woman."

"What did you find out?"

She pushed her plate away. "That lawyers use way too much jargon. Okay, I'm ready now."

He swallowed the bite he was chewing. He'd polished off the whole sandwich in less than five minutes. "Ready for what?"

"For you to slap on the cuffs."

His eyes narrowed. "Why would I need to handcuff you?"

"Don't you want to search my house? I figured you'd probably cuff me to the chair here. So I don't flee the scene or plant evidence or something."

The corner of his mouth ticked up. "Why would you plant evidence against yourself?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I'm new at all this criminal stuff. You're going to have to tutor me."

He stood up and took his plate to the sink. She followed him and put hers on the counter beside his. Then she turned and gazed up at him.