A Laramie, Texas Christmas. Cathy Gillen Thacker

      Where the hell had that thought come from?

      “I don’t want to intrude.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

      She waved off his protest. “We have chicken fettuccini and broccoli, beef and broccoli and lemon chicken and broccoli.”

      Kevin detected a theme. “Got a thing for broccoli, do you?”

      Her blue eyes gleamed at his teasing tone. She tilted her head to one side and regarded him with mock gravity, declaring stubbornly, “I’m not admitting to anything, Detective.”

      He grinned at her playful attitude. This was a woman who could be a lot of fun. Another reason he needed to watch his step. “You’re sure it’s no trouble?” he asked casually, doing his best to stay on task.

      She shrugged a slender shoulder. “I can heat two dinners in the microwave as easily as one.”

      “Thanks, then,” Kevin said over the rumbling of his stomach. “I’d appreciate it. I haven’t had time to grab dinner this evening, either.”

      She went back to studying the selections. “And your choice is?”

      He sorted credit card statements in one pile, what looked to be party invitations and Christmas cards in another. “Whichever broccoli dinner you least want to eat. It doesn’t matter. They all sound pretty good.”

      She took out two and began unwrapping them. “You eat a lot of frozen dinners?”

      Kevin made a third pile for junk mail while she set the microwave timer. “Doesn’t every single person who’s too lazy to cook on a regular basis?”

      She lounged against the counter and folded her arms in front of her. “So you really were fishing.”

      Trying not to note how delectable she looked in the soft kitchen light, with her mussed hair, flushed cheeks and lively blue eyes, he drawled, “That’s right.”

      She looked him up and down. “By yourself.”

      “Well…” He warmed at her skeptical tone. “There were a few fishes there. But I can’t really call them friends.”

      Her smile widened. “Especially the ones you caught and plan to eat.”

      “Exactly.”

      Their eyes met. Held. Kevin felt another jolt of physical attraction.

      Noelle sobered before his thoughts could go from reality to fantasy in three seconds flat. “I feel pretty foolish about what happened earlier,” she told him softly.

      He pushed away the memory of her body caught against his. So her breasts were soft and full, the rest of her slender and fit. So she smelled like crushed lilacs on a sunny day. That didn’t mean he had to desire her, any more than he had to notice the scent of baby powder clinging to her now. “It was understandable,” he assured her, “given the fact Miss Sadie’s identity had been stolen. For all you knew, I was the thief come to cause even more mischief.”

      The timer dinged, and Noelle pivoted toward the microwave. She peered inside, checked the contents of the dinners and started the oven up again. “Is Miss Sadie going to be liable for the massive amount of debt whoever did this ran up in her name?”

      Kevin noted it seemed important to Noelle that Miss Sadie not suffer. That alone proved nothing. A lot of white collar criminals felt they were stealing from businesses that were reimbursed by insurance companies, not people, and therefore justified it on some level because the victim was a faceless corporation.

      Kevin tackled the last stack of mail. “On Miss Sadie’s own credit cards, there’s probably a set limit she’ll be liable for, possibly as low as fifty dollars, depending on the terms of her agreement with the bank that issued them. But she won’t be liable for the cards that were fraudulently applied for and issued during her absence. Unfortunately, it is going to take awhile to prove that was done by someone other than Miss Sadie herself, and get all this straightened out…and during that time her name is going to be mud at all the banks. It looks like she is maxed out on all her current cards.”

      Noelle filled two glasses with ice and water. “How can this happen?”

      Kevin leaned back in his chair and watched her slice up a lemon. It was a simple domestic act, yet it filled him with pleasure. “Someone got hold of Miss Sadie’s personal information, signed her up for cards and used a Houston post office box as her mailing address,” he explained. “Once the cards were issued and activated, it looks like the thieves began ordering goods off the Internet and had them delivered as “gifts” to other people at post office boxes around the state.”

      Noelle’s brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t someone have figured this out?” she complained.

      Kevin noted that this woman was either innocent of any wrongdoing, or an Oscar-caliber actress. He leaned back as she put the beverage in front of him. “Obviously, given the volume of letters Miss Sadie received at her permanent Laramie and Houston addresses, people were questioning what was going on and putting holds on various accounts until they heard from her. Unfortunately, because she was on her cruise, no one was able to reach her. It looks like most of the activity took place in a three-week period at the end of November. Do you know what day she left on her cruise?” he asked curiously.

      Noelle nodded. She plucked silverware out of one drawer, napkins from another. “October twenty-ninth. I met with her right before she left.”

      “And she got back…?” Aware they were about to eat, Kevin moved the stacks of sorted mail out of the way.

      “Three days ago,” Noelle replied. “Miss Sadie spent the night in Houston, then picked up her mail at the nearby post office the following morning. She had her regular driver bring her out to Laramie, where she stopped at the post office, picked up that mail, and headed out here to Blackberry Hill. She said she waited until she got to the house to start going through it all, so she had no idea what was going on.”

      The microwave dinged again. Noelle removed the dinners from the oven and handed him the beef and broccoli, keeping the lemon chicken and broccoli for herself. They peeled off the plastic covers. Steam curled through the air, giving the kitchen a distinctive Asian aroma.

      “How are you going to track the thieves?” Noelle asked, taking a seat opposite Kevin.

      “I’m going to start by talking to everyone close to Miss Sadie, and have her fill out some forms about who works in her home, or on the property, or has occasion to see her private papers. Whoever did this had to have access to her birth date, social security number, bank information and so on. In all likelihood it’s someone close to her she would never suspect, which is why I’m going to be taking a hard look at the background of everyone around her.”

      Noelle seemed nervous again. “Couldn’t it have been a stranger?” she asked, a troubled look in her eyes.

      Kevin struggled to contain his disappointment. He did not want Noelle to have anything to do with this. “It could have been,” he agreed carefully.

      She released the breath she had been holding. “But you don’t think it is.” She kept her eyes on his.

      Kevin debated how much to tell her. “I find the timing odd,” he said finally. “Miss Sadie goes off for a six-week cruise, and two days later, a flurry of bank card applications are entered in her name. She has a stellar credit rating, so the cards are issued promptly—probably all within hours of each other. Ten days later, purchases begin. And then magically stop right before she gets home from her cruise. Common sense says it was no accident that this happened while she was out of touch.”

      Noelle’s expression turned contemplative. She put her fork down and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “So what next?”

      I try like hell to remain objective. “I talk to my friends in Houston who specialize in identity theft for the HPD. There may be others in the area who are reporting similar fraud.”

      “Maybe