Colton's Secret Investigation. Justine Davis

on the task as she, looked up from the screen. She guessed, by the way he blinked, then rubbed at his eyes, that they were as dry and weary as hers were.

      “It’s after eight,” she said.

      He blinked again, and apparently as disbelieving as she had been, glanced at his watch.

      “Damn. I’ve got to make a call.”

      “And I’ve got to answer a call,” she said. “I’ll be in the ladies’.”

      Her way of putting it earned her another brief flash of that grin. But when she came back, there was no sign of the amused man she’d left.

      “Problem?” she asked.

      “Yeah. Look, I know we’ve got a long way to go yet on this stuff, but…my sitter has to leave. And I can’t leave Samuel alone.”

      “I should think not,” Daria said, imagining all the trouble a five-year-old could get into left to his own devices. “So…you want to call it a night?”

      “No, I don’t, not when we’ve got so much more to get through. But…look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ve got a setup like this in my home office. It wouldn’t take much to pick up right where we left off there.”

      Warning bells went off in Daria’s head. No way did she want to be in a nice, homey environment with this man. But as she looked at him—once she managed to stop dwelling on his strong jaw, broad shoulders and narrow hips—she realized he was more than a little frazzled. He would likely be so worried about his boy that he wouldn’t be thinking about…what she was thinking about. And couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.

       Just because you think he’s the hottest thing that’s ever walked these mountains doesn’t mean he feels the same about you, idiot. And even if he did, it would not only be inappropriate, it would be downright stupid. For you, anyway.

      “Fine,” she said abruptly. “I’d like to finish this tonight.”

      “Thanks,” he said, and it sounded so heartfelt she felt even sillier for her own thoughts.

      And she shoved them back into that “not interested” box.

       Chapter 3

      Mrs. Crane couldn’t leave fast enough. After a quick report that Samuel had refused to eat dinner or quit playing his video game or go to bed, she was gone. Stefan noticed Daria looking around the house with interest, but he couldn’t read her reaction to his place in her expression. He wasn’t sure if maybe he should be glad of that.

      But right now he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He shouldn’t be thinking about Daria at all, but about the rebellious kid who had landed on him. He walked over to where the boy was indeed glued to his video controller, his eyes on the screen. He didn’t even look up when Stefan came in. And not for the first time, Stefan thought he should never have hooked the system up to the big TV. He’d foolishly thought of it as a peace offering.

      He walked over to the couch. “Way past your bedtime.”

      The boy didn’t even look up from his game.

      “Come on, Samuel. Shut it down.”

      Again the boy ignored him.

      “He’s almost to the big castle. He can’t stop now.” Stefan turned to stare at Daria. Even Samuel looked up, startled. “Watch out, there’s a zombie!” she warned the boy, who quickly went back to the game, and with a couple of button presses, the stiffly walking, sickly-green creature was gone.

      “Nicely done,” Daria said. “Now, when you get to the castle wall, it’s time to come have something to eat before bed. Got it?”

      “Yeah,” Samuel said, focused on the game but still responding.

      And to Stefan’s shock, when the game seemed to pause at the foot of a soaring stone wall, Samuel closed it and put down the controller.

      “Have you encountered the dragon yet?” Daria asked the boy conversationally as they walked toward the kitchen. Stefan followed, suddenly feeling like a bystander in his own house.

      “Not yet,” Samuel said.

      “Ohhhh, you wiiill,” she said in an over-the-top creepy voice that made Samuel laugh. Stefan was gaping now; he hadn’t seen his son laugh since he’d been here.

      Then the boy looked at her curiously. “Who are you?”

      “My name is Daria. I’m working with your dad for a while.”

      The boy’s expression changed, became something wary. “Oh.”

      “You don’t like that,” Daria said. “Why?”

      “My mom worked with someone. An’ he doesn’t like me. So she sent me away. Now I’m stuck here.”

      Daria glanced at Stefan, and he felt his jaw tighten involuntarily.

      “Well, I like you, so no problem,” she said to Samuel cheerfully. “What do you want to eat?”

      The wariness faded from the boy’s expression. And Stefan had the niggling thought that he should be paying attention.

      “I don’t know,” Samuel said. “There’s never anything good here.”

      “Really? Nothing?”

      “It’s all this fancy stuff.”

      “Not even a good burger, huh?” Daria sympathized.

      “No.”

      “Maybe we should just look and see if there’s anything we can make edible.”

      “What’s edi—ed…what you said?”

      “It means you can eat it without gagging,” she said in a loud whisper.

      And again the boy laughed. Stefan gave a slow, wondering shake of his head. I should definitely be paying attention here. How does she do that?

      Daria was looking at him questioningly. He realized she was seeking some reaction from him, probably to her taking over. “Don’t stop now,” he muttered.

      And then she was in his kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator. She ignored the leftover Szechuan takeout he’d had last night and figured they would eat later while working, and if she noticed the six-pack of beer—well, five-pack, now—on the top shelf, she ignored it. She poked into the deli drawer, then looked over her shoulder at him.

      “Bread?” she asked.

      Afraid to say anything for fear of setting Samuel off again, he walked over to the small pantry and got out the half loaf that was in there.

      “Good,” she said. “Samuel, do you know where a skillet is?”

      Stefan blinked, since it was hanging on a rack practically in front of her, opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again.

      “Silly, it’s right there,” Samuel said, grinning and pointing.

      “Why, so it is. Good eyes, my friend.”

      She’d done it on purpose, Stefan realized. She was bringing Samuel into the conversation in a way he never would have thought of. And the boy was responding, right before his eyes.

      “Now if only we had some butter, we could have a mega grilled cheese sandwich.”

      Looking intrigued, Samuel trotted into the kitchen and pointed at a covered dish on the counter. He was tall for his age, but not quite tall enough to reach it. “It’s in there.”

      “Then we’re a go.” She reached up for the skillet, unhooked it and handed it to the boy, who looked beyond startled. “Go set that on a front burner for me, will you? Don’t