Count on Love. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ connection. “She came back, didn’t she?”

      “No.” Brett denied it too quickly. He’d wanted to ask Annie to help the moment she arrived, but she’d made it clear she disapproved of anything to do with cards. He clutched the small cell phone tighter. Although they could use her help, Brett didn’t want to risk losing her again. “Annie quit, remember? She won’t help us.”

      “You shouldn’t assume anything. Chauncey needs this.”

      Brett snapped the cell phone closed and returned to the living room. Chauncey might need money, but Brett needed his daughter back in his life. It was selfish of him to have wanted to see Annie again and to meet his granddaughter, foolish to think they could try to build a relationship when he’d agreed to such high stakes.

      “How about an ice cream?”

      “Isn’t Mommy going to be home soon?”

      But Brett didn’t answer. He was too busy grabbing his car keys.

      

      “I FAILEDMY BACKGROUND check?” Annie’s fingers were so numb from clasping her hands together, it was hard to believe it was a balmy eighty-degree October day.

      “Annie, the committee made its final review of your application.” Carl paused to clear his throat. “Unfortunately, we’ve decided to pursue another candidate because of this blip in your background check.”

      “What?” She barely had enough breath in her lungs to question the decision. “You said the job was mine. I packed up and moved.”

      “I’m sorry. We’ll reimburse your expenses, but we can’t offer you the job.” His voice had lost its usual warmth and he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

      The shock of losing something she’d thought was hers, had based so many life-changing decisions on and looked forward to, left Annie speechless. She’d sold everything of value Frank hadn’t already pawned or the courts hadn’t taken, and left Los Angeles with two hundred dollars and barely enough possessions to fill two suitcases. She’d thought she couldn’t sink any lower.

      “You’re a qualified individual,” Carl was saying, when Annie’s mind was capable of comprehending. “I’m sure you’ll find something else soon.”

      “There must be some mistake. May I see the report, please?” At least then she’d know why she’d failed. But really, there was only one reason not to hire her. She suspected she hadn’t run far enough away from Frank and the mess he’d made of her life.

      “We don’t give out that information.” But Annie noticed a company logo on a piece of paper on top of a file with her name on the tab—an invoice from Sam Knight Investigations.

      When she arrived, there’d been a tall man outside waiting for Winona to give him something. He’d had thick black hair and a face with features that probably inspired plenty of female fantasies, despite the gaunt look in his eyes, rumpled khakis and a well-worn polo shirt. He’d looked like an unscrupulous private investigator standing at the edge of a sea of sad gray cubicles. The secretary may have even called him Sam.

      “I need this job, Carl. I can do good things for Slotto.” Annie smoothed her skirt and tried to compose herself, tried to sound like the qualified, unruffled businesswoman she’d been before Frank was arrested. “If there’s been a mistake, you’d still hire me, right?”

      “Of course, if there’s been a mistake—”

      “I’m sure there has been.” Standing, Annie cut Carl off. She was just desperate enough to face Sam Knight and get the truth out of him. If only he hadn’t left yet…

      

      SAM PULLED A HOT DOG from the warming rack at the 7-Eleven across the street from Slotto, feeling pretty damn good about the morning.

      “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, buster,” a woman next to him said. Sam had been called much worse than buster by more threatening babes, but this taunt threw him for a loop. The woman looked like a petite Swedish schoolteacher. Short ruffled blond hair, boring if well-filled suit, plenty of leg, pearls around her neck. Just the right combination of good girl and sex appeal.

      Sam turned his back on her and filled a soda cup with ice.

      She sidled closer to him, invading his personal space, whispering as if what she had to say was for his ears only. “You’re a disgrace to…to…the private investigator profession…and men in general.”

      Wait a minute. He remembered seeing her in the reception area of Slotto. “Lady—”

      “My name is Annie Raye. Ring any bells?”

      She was sexier than he’d expected, the kind of woman who was hot and didn’t know it. He disliked her all over again. “How did you…? What are you…?” Smooth, Knight. He filled his cup with Pepsi.

      Annie looked him up and down. “You deep-sixed my background check and I want to know why.”

      He used to be polished with the ladies, in control, on top…or whatever position suited him. But that was before Iraq. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

      She glared at him. Given her Hilary Clinton suit, she probably thought men could actually ignore her well-proportioned body and take her seriously. “How long did it take you to do my background check? A week? A day?”

      He wasn’t going to admit fifteen minutes. But it had been one of the most enjoyable fifteen minutes he’d spent in a long time.

      “That’s what I thought. You should spend more time getting the answers right. Now, call up Carl Nunes and let’s straighten this mess out.”

      “You didn’t pass the screen,” Sam said lamely. What was wrong with him? He tried to sound firm. “There is no recount, no redo, no make goods. Not for embezzlers.”

      “My husband…” Her cheeks lost some of their color. “My ex-husband is the crook. I was booked on suspicion, but no charges were ever filed against me. Didn’t your so-called background check pick that up? There’s no reason Slotto shouldn’t hire me.” Annie glowered at him, but the look was ruined by the bedroom huskiness of her voice as she whispered, “In fact, it’s illegal for you to even use that information against me.”

      “It’s illegal in California, but we’re much more lenient in Nevada, sweetheart.”

      She made a huffing noise. “That’s not a good enough reason, darling.”

      He stared at her a moment, then cleared his throat. “How about this? Your father is a professional gambler, and probably a petty crook who hasn’t yet been caught scamming tourists.” There was no way Annie Raye could work in any field even remotely connected to gambling when her father made his less-than-successful living playing cards.

      “Slotto doesn’t want to hire my dad.” She pushed out her lower lip, which was pink, plump and tempting.

      Annie Raye represented everything a man wanted. Spunky, pretty with a cute little figure—all wrapped up in that virginal package that said home-cooking and flowered sheets. No wonder Carl Nunes had been fooled. But she couldn’t put one over on Sam.

      He СКАЧАТЬ