Julie Beth Fasano?

The last time Hunter had seen her, she’d been a barefoot, gangly tomboy of eleven.

Looking at Len, his partner, Julie launched into a seductive rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

This was no tomboy.

Their eyes met. The message seemed clear. She didn’t recognize him, so he beckoned her closer.

To his surprise, not to mention Len’s, she bent and gave the older man a quick kiss.

When she approached and gave him a questioning smile, Hunter blurted the first words that came to his mind. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

Her dark-lashed eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and then, standing on tiptoe, she whispered, “Happy birthday,” and touched her soft lips to his, immediately setting him on fire.

“Oops,” he told her with a teasing grin.

“Tomorrow’s not my birthday.”

She maneuvered past him. “I know.” Shooting him a wink over her shoulder as she headed down the hall, she added, “Your birthday is in August.”

Dear Reader,

There’s no better escape than a fun, heartwarming love story from Silhouette Romance. So this August, be sure to treat yourself to all six books in our sexy, sizzling collection guaranteed to keep you glued to your beach chair.

Dive right into our fantasy-filled A TALE OF THE SEA adventure with Melissa McClone’s In Deep Waters (SR#1608). In the second installment in the series about lost royal siblings from a magical kingdom, Kayla Waterton searches for a sunken ship, and discovers real treasure in the form of dark, seductive, modern-day pirate Captain Ben Mendoza.

Speaking of dark and seductive, Carol Grace’s Falling for the Sheik (SR#1607) features the mesmerizing but demanding Sheik Rahman Harun, who is nursed back to health with TLC from his beautiful American nurse, Amanda Reston. Another royal has a heart-wrenching choice to make in The Princess Has Amnesia! (SR#1606) by award-winning author Patricia Thayer. She survived a jet crash in the mountains, but when the amnesia-stricken princess remembers her true social standing, will she—can she—forget her handsome rescuer…?

Myrna Mackenzie’s Bought by the Billionaire (SR#1610) is a Pygmalian story starring Ethan Bennington, who has only three weeks to transform commoner Maggie Todd into a lady. While Cole Sullivan, the hunky, all-American hero in Wendy Warren’s The Oldest Virgin in Oakdale (SR#1609), is coerced into teaching shy Eleanor Lippert how to seduce any man—himself included.

Then laugh a hundred laughs with Carolyn Greene’s

First You Kiss 100 Men… (SR#1611), a hilarious and highly sensual read about a journalist assigned to kiss 100 men. But there’s only one man she wants to kiss.…

Happy reading—and please keep in touch!

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

First You Kiss 100 Men…
Carolyn Greene

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Day Leclaire…my friend, mentor and constant source of inspiration.

Books by Carolyn Greene

Silhouette Romance

An Eligible Bachelor #1503

Her Mistletoe Man #1556

First You Kiss 100 Men… #1611

Previously Published as Carolyn Monroe

Silhouette Romance

Kiss of Bliss #847

A Lovin’ Spoonful #912

Help Wanted: Daddy #970

CAROLYN GREENE

has been married to a fire chief for more than twenty years. She laughingly introduces herself as the one who lights the fires and her husband as the one who puts them out. They are a true opposites-attract type of couple and, because of this, they and their two teenagers have learned a lot about the art of compromise.

Coming together…mentally, physically and spiritually. That’s what romance is all about, and that’s what Carolyn strives to portray in her highly entertaining novels. Says Carolyn, “I like to think that after someone has read one of my books, I’ve made her or his day a little brighter. You just can’t put a price tag on that kind of job satisfaction.”

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Prologue

Dear Ethel,

I’m seeing a man who’s smart, funny and kind. How can I tell for certain if this is the right man for me?

Curious Carrie

Dear Carrie,

Unless some negative traits indicate he’s not a good match, keep dating him. When the time is right, you won’t need to ask anyone else’s advice, you’ll just know.

Ethel

‘‘You’re making a wise move to fire Ethel and update this column,’’ Julie said, hoping to win the editor’s approval by validating his decision. A little sucking up during a job interview never hurt anyone. Especially when that someone’s college degree was in theater costuming and she was applying for a journalist position with Virginia’s prestigious Richmond Reporter newspaper. Hopefully, Mr. Upshaw wouldn’t hold it against her that she’d changed career paths after graduation. ‘‘For example, this lame answer she gave—‘you’ll just know’—doesn’t cut it. How can your Generation-X readers trust advice like that? They want answers that are black-and-white.’’ She squinted at the small, grainy photo of the elderly columnist. ‘‘How old is she, anyway? I’d guess at least ninety.’’

The editor cracked his knuckles. ‘‘My aunt Ethel turned eighty-seven last month. And I’m not firing her. She’s retiring.’’

Aunt Ethel? Julie swallowed. When would she learn to think before she opened her mouth? ‘‘I’m sorry, Mr. Upshaw. I have nothing against the advice of older people. In fact, my grandmother used to say stuff like ‘a girl should kiss a hundred men before she marries,’ so I got a journal and started keeping a list of all the guys I…’’

The editor stared at her, saying nothing, so she impulsively filled the silence with the first thought that came to mind. ‘‘I could write about my grandmother’s advice to see if it holds true in this millennium.’’ She sat up straighter, excited about this fun new possibility. ‘‘It wouldn’t be an advice column in the traditional manner of questions and answers, but you did say you wanted something different.’’

Her voice trailed off as she realized she was babbling from nervousness.

He rubbed his chin. ‘‘A column about kissing. That’s different.’’

‘‘There’s lots of other advice I could research, too.’’

He seemed not to have heard her. ‘‘How would you find a hundred men to kiss?’’

Writing solely about kissing was a turn she hadn’t expected, but it sounded like an opportunity, and Julie wasn’t about to pass it up. ‘‘Oh, I have a part-time job that introduces me to lots of men.’’

His eyebrows rose a notch.

‘‘Not that kind of job,’’ she added hastily.

Now he scratched his bald head, as if weighing the possibility of hiring her. Julie crossed her fingers in her lap.

‘‘You suppose you’ve got enough material for a month of columns, three times a week?’’

‘‘Undoubtedly!’’ She wasn’t so certain, however, whether her limited supply of kissable men would hold out for a month.

‘‘I like your style,’’ the older man said, rising to his feet.

Yes…! Julie followed him to the door, doing a little victory jig behind his back.

‘‘We’ll try you for a month, freelance and if you’re any good you can stay on as columnist and take on some reporting duties as well.’’ He blocked her exit with an arm across the open doorway. ‘‘But you’ll have to remain anonymous during the trial period. Keep in mind that the ability to handle confidentiality is a major requirement for a reporter.’’

‘‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’’

Chapter One

In my limited experience, I’ve found that the most difficult part of kissing is the approach. Who makes the first move? Are the signals being read correctly? A kiss, especially the first one shared by a couple, involves a delicate dance of uncertainty…and anticipation.

Laughter pealed from the reception area, shaking Hunter’s thoughts from the case he was investigating and making him wish, not for the first time today, that his secretary’s month-long honeymoon was already over.

It was Monday, the first workday since his efficient assistant’s wedding, and things were already going to Hades in a wicker basket. His much-coveted sense of order and calm was already being shattered.

Now someone was strumming what sounded like a ukulele, and a buzz of giggling and chattering voices sounded from the reception area. He had already rescued the company from near-collapse once. It wouldn’t do to let things regress merely because Trudy and his top investigator had tied the knot. Better nip these shenanigans in the bud now and remind everyone to save their fun for the lunch hour.

Hunter closed the file and lined it up squarely with the right, near edge of his desk.

Out front, all the staff from Oltmeier-Matthews Investigation Agency surrounded his elderly business partner, Leonard Oltmeier. In addition, a number of employees from neighboring offices had come over to see what the noise was about, and had stayed to lend even more frivolity to the event.

Hunter stood in the doorway for a moment, hating to be the bad guy again. But if it hadn’t been for his insistence on adhering to the strict policies and procedures he’d drawn up shortly after coming to work here, the company would have gone under a long time ago. Everyone who worked here appreciated the increased efficiency and higher salaries that resulted from following his rules, but old habits were hard to break. And most of the time Hunter was the one who had to remind them.

Like now. He sighed and stepped into the crowded reception room. His partner perched on the arm of the couch and smiled at a young, dark-haired woman who handed him an oversize greeting card. Hunter couldn’t blame the old guy for abandoning work in favor of being serenaded by the lovely siren.

Of course! It was Len’s birthday. Hunter cursed his rotten memory. If Trudy were here, she would have reminded him. But his secretary wasn’t here, so he’d have to make do the best he could until her return. Meanwhile, he’d have to remind Priscilla, Len’s secretary, to keep him posted on such matters.

Having handed the giant greeting card to Len, the brunette hit an off-key note on her ukulele, sang a few notes of ‘‘mi-mi-mi,’’ and then launched into the ‘‘Happy Birthday’’ song. Her voice was untrained but enthusiastic…and somewhat familiar. Hunter moved into the room and positioned himself near the exit, hoping to get a better look at the woman in the Sherlock Holmes hat, but she was intent on giving the birthday boy her full attention.

The back view of her wasn’t bad, though. Her slim-fitting pink body shirt, decorated with large black question marks, showcased the taper from ribs to waist, and a soft black leather skirt skimmed her narrow hips, falling to the middle of her thighs. Hunter drank in the view. By now, she’d switched to Marilyn Monroe’s version of the song, going so far as to act it out by bending forward slightly and placing her palms on the tops of those mind-boggling legs.

The voice, though tickling his mind with its familiarity, left a lot to be desired, but that didn’t matter as long as his gaze caressed her gently rounded rump. Hunter’s body responded in a way that had him thinking of hot, sweaty nights and wrinkled sheets. He turned to leave before his libido led him to do something he might regret.

That’s when the brunette turned, arms outstretched, and milked the final words of the song. ‘‘…to you…!’’

Julie Beth Fasano? No, it couldn’t be. The last time he’d seen his former neighbor, he’d been about to depart for college, and she’d been a barefoot, gangly kid of eleven. A tomboy who untiringly dogged his tracks, often inviting herself to accompany him on dates with her older sister.

He blinked and looked again. This was no tomboy. All traces of the scraggly hair, skinned knees and crooked teeth had evaporated, and in their place was a lovely young woman with below-the-shoulder curls, legs that seemed to go on forever, and sweet pouty lips that dared a man to kiss them.

Hunter took a couple of deep breaths as he assessed the changes that had taken place in his pesky former neighbor over the past dozen years or so. Half a lifetime for her.

She played to the audience, and their eyes met. Hunter gave her an embarrassed smile. The girl—er, woman—had always had a knack for getting under his skin. He just hoped she wouldn’t know how much she’d affected him today. She returned his smile with a polite one of her own. Their gazes lingered a mere second longer, but it was enough time for him to notice the quizzical expression she shot him. The message seemed clear. She didn’t recognize him.

It wouldn’t hurt to stay and watch the rest of her performance. He wouldn’t get any work done anyway as long as he knew she was still out here. Hunter joined the others as they applauded her overacted performance. To his surprise, not to mention Len’s, she bent and gave the older man a quick kiss and once again wished him a happy birthday before gathering up her ukulele and car keys.

Lucky Len.

Lingering by the exit while Len’s assistant tipped her for the singing telegram, Hunter moved to intercept Julie Beth on the way out. He would remind her who he was and watch her reaction. And maybe inquire after her grandmother.

But when she approached and gave him that same shy, questioning smile, the words in his head vanished. Neither spoke for a moment, and the silence hung awkwardly between them when he made no move to let her pass.

Her pale blue eyes darkened slightly. The fringe of dark, sultry lashes and the brash, upward jut of her chin reminded him she was no longer a child. Little Julie Beth wasn’t so little anymore.

Seeing her standing there like that, her face tilted as if inviting him to partake in the kiss he’d coveted earlier, he blurted the first words that came to his mind. ‘‘My birthday’s tomorrow.’’

Those dark lashes widened almost imperceptibly, alerting him that his remark had surprised her as much as himself. And then her freckle-spattered face was covered with a broad, uncensored smile. Standing on tiptoe, the ukulele dangling at her side, she whispered, ‘‘Happy birthday!’’ and touched her soft lips to his.

Forgetting about adhering to workplace procedures or saving social pursuits until the appointed break time, Hunter returned the kiss and felt himself respond in a way that was decidedly unprofessional. Not to mention painful.

It was as if she had locked up his brain and handed the key to his mutinous body. He pulled her to him, seeking release in the sweet sensation of her touch, but that only served to fan the flames even higher. And when she lifted her arms to encircle his neck, he didn’t even care that she banged the ukulele against his rump.

Her mouth, which he remembered as being full of sass and mischief, was now sweetly compliant as he explored her tender lips with his own. Her strawberry-flavored lipstick teased his senses, making him hunger for more. The soft curve of her breasts pressed against his chest, and Hunter damned the suit jacket he was wearing for adding an extra layer between them.

It was seconds—or maybe minutes, or even days—later when he reluctantly lifted his head to end the kiss. Julie Beth exhaled deeply and dragged her arms from around his neck. Her motions were slow, almost as if she were drugged.

‘‘Hear, hear!’’ said Len in an appreciative tone. The rest of the staff signaled their agreement with cheers and thunderous applause.

Hunter swallowed. He didn’t regret what he’d done, but he hoped Julie Beth wasn’t embarrassed by the attention. His gaze still fixed on the delicate features of her face, he sought to lighten the mood and, at the same time, cut an escape hatch for himself.

He asked his partner, ‘‘What’s today’s date?’’

‘‘April first,’’ the old guy said.

Julie Beth narrowed her eyes at him as she caught on to what was happening.

‘‘April fool,’’ he told her with a teasing grin. ‘‘Tomorrow’s not my birthday.’’

She tucked the ukulele under her arm and maneuvered past him. ‘‘I know.’’ Shooting him a wink over her shoulder as she headed down the hall toward the elevator, her skirt swaying in a devilish salute, she added, ‘‘Your birthday is in August.’’

‘‘I think Anna is seeing someone.’’

If it were anyone other than his brother making this outrageous statement, Hunter would laugh and tell him to get a hobby and stop letting his imagination run amok. As a judge and a pillar of the community, however, Peter Matthews was not prone to creating fanciful tales.

‘‘She’s been slipping out at odd times of the day and night, and she refuses to tell me where she’s going.’’ Peter’s face tightened in pain. He stabbed at the chicken with his fork. ‘‘And yesterday, when I looked in her tote bag for a pen, I found some racy lingerie.’’

Hunter’s sister-in-law had been a devoted wife and mother during her eighteen years of marriage. As much as Hunter tried, he couldn’t imagine her hurting Peter like this. Not intentionally, anyway. ‘‘There must be a reasonable explanation for her behavior.’’

‘‘Things haven’t been well between us for a while.’’ Peter met his eyes and then looked away. ‘‘I want you to follow my wife. Find out what she’s been up to. It’s important that we keep this unpleasantness out of the media.’’ He leaned forward and lowered his voice as if to emphasize the importance of what he was about to say. ‘‘With the reappointment coming up, I can’t afford a messy scandal.’’

Hunter set his napkin on the table. He had no wish to get in the middle of their marital difficulties, but an impartial third party might be able to help them. ‘‘You don’t need an investigator,’’ he said gently, ‘‘but a good counselor could probably help.’’

Peter clenched his jaw. ‘‘I already suggested that to Anna. She wouldn’t go.’’

‘‘Did you offer to go with her?’’ He immediately answered his own question. ‘‘What am I thinking? Of course not.’’ Despite the fact that Hunter had always admired his high-achieving older brother, he recognized that Peter often had difficulty believing he could ever be less than one hundred percent right. Perhaps that’s what had led him to become a civil court judge. It allowed him to have the final say on most of the cases that came through his courtroom.

Peter’s high-handed attitude softened for a brief moment, long enough to make Hunter realize that his brother was deeply concerned. ‘‘We have two teenage sons who need their mother.’’

If Hunter hadn’t already been swayed by Peter’s worried expression, mention of the boys would have been enough to make him agree to take the case. ‘‘After all you’ve taught me about collecting airtight evidence for my clients, I suppose I owe you a favor in return.’’

The smile of relief that greeted his response was clearly heartfelt. Hunter didn’t like what he was about to become involved in, but it would be worth the sacrifice if the results of his investigation provided a healing salve for his brother’s marriage.

Hunter left the restaurant and walked the long way back to the office. He told himself it was because he needed the extra time to think about his brother’s situation, but the decision had more to do with the fact that the Merry Messengers telegram shop lay along this route.

Curiosity was his motive, he told himself as he walked past the bagel shop and an independent bookstore. As he approached Merry Messengers, he slowed his pace and casually glanced in the window to see if Julie Beth might be there, waiting to deliver her next kiss-o-gram. As for what he would do if he should happen to see her, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Holding a hand to his forehead to shade his eyes, he squinted into the dark store. A middle-aged woman behind the counter smiled and waved him in.

It wasn’t Julie Beth. He took her invitation anyway, and once inside, glanced around the small shop.

Real and silk flowers adorned a shelf near the counter, and on the back wall sat ceramic figures and plaques with cute sayings. A spinner rack near a door marked Employees Only offered an assortment of greeting cards, a few of the less attractive ones gone yellow with age.

Still no sign of Julie Beth. He turned to leave, but the proprietress would have none of that.

‘‘How may I help you today?’’ The woman spoke in an overly perky tone, as though she felt the need to demonstrate the enthusiasm with which their telegrams would be delivered. ‘‘We’re having a special on birthday-grams this month.’’

‘‘Uh, no, I don’t think so. I was just looking for someone who was at my office earlier today.’’ He glanced around for a sign of the miniskirted imp who’d kissed him this morning. ‘‘But Julie Beth’s apparently out on a delivery.’’

The woman did a spaniel impersonation and cocked her head. ‘‘Julie Beth?’’

‘‘Julie Fasano. She’s about so tall.’’ He held his hand at shoulder level. Maybe the size of the shop was deceptive, and the lady had employed so many merry messengers that she couldn’t keep track of them all. His guess was confirmed when someone came into the building from a back entrance and made a small commotion beyond the Employees Only door.

He continued his description. ‘‘Long dark hair, petite figure,’’ he said, emphasizing the latter with a wavy motion of his hands, ‘‘and short leather skirt. Really great legs…and an even better kisser,’’ he added with enthusiasm. ‘‘Oh, and she wears strawberry-flavored lipstick.’’

The woman’s perky demeanor vanished. ‘‘You were the, er, birthday boy?’’

‘‘No, actually, I was just a bystander who happened to get lucky.’’

Her tone fairly bristled now. ‘‘I’m afraid I can’t help you with your search.’’

‘‘But you must know her.’’ How could anyone meet Julie Beth and not recall her exuberant spirit and playful attitude? ‘‘She was the one who delivered a kiss-o-gram to the Oltmeier-Matthews Agency this morning. Perhaps you could check your receipts. It’s bound to be in there.’’

‘‘There’s no need for that,’’ she said, her voice curt and cold. ‘‘Merry Messengers is a respectable business. We don’t deliver…kiss-o-grams.’’ If a person could sneer her words, that’s exactly what she did. ‘‘And we don’t encourage fraternizing between our employees and the clients. I’m afraid you’ll have to find some other way to enlarge your social circle.’’

She stepped out from behind the counter as if to escort him to the door, but he moved to one side to gain an opportunity to set straight her misperception. ‘‘No, it wasn’t like that at all. You see, it was only a birthday song and greeting card, followed by a little peck on the birthday boy’s cheek…sort of a congratulations kiss.’’

The woman folded her arms across her chest. ‘‘I’m going to ask you to leave now.’’

He didn’t need a two-by-four over his head to get the message. It had been a stupid idea to come by here and an even stupider idea to try to reconnect with his former neighbor. If he really wanted to find her, it would be a simple matter to look her up through other methods. After all, he was a private investigator.

But he convinced himself it was best they hadn’t reconnected. As a kid following her wacky impulses, Julie Beth had driven him crazy. He consoled himself about the aborted search with a mental reminder that, despite the passage of years, she probably hadn’t changed much in that regard.

Julie waited until the bell jangled over the main door to signal Hunter’s departure before she eased into the front room. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop on their conversation, but the familiarity of the customer’s strong masculine voice had captured her attention, and when he’d spoken her name, she’d been hooked. Julie couldn’t help smiling as she remembered what he’d said about her legs.

The look on Mrs. Quarles’s face melted the happy expression from her own. She was really in for it this time.

‘‘First there’s the ongoing matter of your attire,’’ her supervisor said. She gestured toward the door Hunter had left through, indicating the matter he had brought to her attention. ‘‘And now this.’’

‘‘I can explain….’’

‘‘Will it be as imaginative as your excuse for stopping traffic on Main Street by swinging like Tarzan from the stoplight to deliver a rush-hour proposalgram?’’

Julie thought she had made it clear why she’d donned the silly costume and stopped traffic for the occasion, but she explained once again. ‘‘The client’s girlfriend works at the zoo. It seemed the logical thing to do.’’

‘‘So you said. And then there was that incident of the adoption-gram on horseback on the courthouse lawn.’’

‘‘The little girl loves horses. The adoptive parents wanted to celebrate the event with something fun that the child would remember.’’ Her supervisor wasn’t any more impressed with her reasons today than she’d been shortly after they had occurred. Julie wrung her hands.

‘‘You can still see hoofprints in the rose beds.’’

‘‘They say rose petals are very tasty, so you can’t really blame the poor horse for wanting to sample them.’’

‘‘Those weren’t the only unscripted performances you’ve given,’’ Mrs. Quarles said, ‘‘but kissing the clients will certainly be your last.’’

‘‘The way he told it sounds worse than it was,’’ she began. Her boss seemed cynical, but Julie gave it her best shot. ‘‘You see, I’m actually doing serious research on the subject of kissing, so I don’t wind up with a dud of a dude. So I got this spiral notebook and numbered the lines from one to a hundred and drew columns for the date, the name of the kissee and where it took place.’’ She paused. ‘‘Do you want to see it?’’

‘‘Absolutely not.’’

‘‘Anyway, I’ve got something like forty-seven names in my book now. Most of them—especially the ones I got while delivering my singing telegrams—were just little dry ones on the cheek. I don’t really know how that would tell me anything about the guy, but I suppose they all count.’’

‘‘I’ve heard all I need to know about this.’’

‘‘But wait, I haven’t finished. The scoring column is where it gets difficult. People with B.O. get the lowest rating…thank goodness I haven’t run across that yet. The highest score is a ‘Zinger.’ Only one has come close to that.’’ With an uncharacteristic display of prudence, she decided not to volunteer that Hunter had been the one to earn that particular honor.

‘‘You may pack up your belongings, Miss Fasano. Merry Messengers won’t be requiring your services any longer.’’

Chapter Two

Then there’s the matter of expediency. Sometimes one of the partners in a kissing couple is a bit more…hesitant, shall we say?…than the other. Hesitation does not necessarily signify reluctance, but it sure can add to the frustration level.

Back at Oltmeier-Matthews, the receptionist got up to lead her to Hunter Matthews’s office.

‘‘Please don’t bother,’’ said Julie. ‘‘I want to surprise him.’’

With the ukulele strap slung over one shoulder and her purse over the other, she headed down the right corridor past a glassed-in meeting room toward the man who had wrecked her carefully laid plans.

The secretary’s desk outside his office sat vacant. Except for the fact that it was devoid of papers and folders, she might have assumed that the employee had stepped away momentarily. A deep voice floated to her from the inner office—a voice that only hours ago had set her heart aflutter, but now filled her with an urge to use her ukulele as a weapon over his head.

‘‘Yeah, Pete, I told you I’d look into it. Don’t worry, I’ll make it a priority. But I still think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.’’

Taking the musical instrument in hand, Julie pushed the office door open, stepped inside and pointed the neck of the ukulele at him.

‘‘You used to be like a big brother to me,’’ she announced. Well, not really like a brother, but she wasn’t about to admit that she’d once had a long-term teenybopper crush on him. ‘‘Is that any way to treat family?’’

‘‘Pete, I’ll have to call you back.’’ Hunter hung up the phone and rose from his chair. Then he untwisted the coiled cord and moved the phone an inch so that it was exactly catercorner to the edge of his desk. ‘‘Two singing telegrams in one day? What’s the occasion this time?’’

‘‘I’m not delivering a telegram. In fact, thanks to you, that part of my life is now history.’’ Standing across the room from him as she was, Julie thought it prudent to raise her voice so she could be heard. But given her frustration level at the moment, her raised voice quickly turned to something nearer a shriek. ‘‘What possessed you to go to my employer and tell her I was delivering kiss-o-grams and that you happened to ‘get lucky’? You made it sound like I was hiring myself out to deliver more than just a song and a greeting.’’

If he was ashamed, he sure didn’t show it. He should have been avoiding her gaze. He should have been bowing and scraping and apologizing profusely, but instead he stood there like a statue of some gorgeous Greek god and studied her face with unwavering attention.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he said, taking a step closer. ‘‘That’s not what I intended to do.’’

She gave him a point for appearing sincere, but the road to you-know-where was paved with good intentions. An overly honest conscience raised the point that it was she who had deliberately bent the company rules of not fraternizing with customers. Hunter’s role had merely been to bring it to her employer’s attention. But that didn’t stop her from venting her frustration over this setback in her career plans.

‘‘Then what, may I ask, were you intending to accomplish by telling my boss I was doling out kisses indiscriminately?’’ She’d been very discriminating when she’d favored him with an early birthday kiss, but there was no way she could have made Mrs. Quarles understand that.

‘‘I’m not really sure,’’ he responded, in a much quieter tone than she’d been using. He seemed truly perplexed.

‘‘You’re not sure why you wanted to ruin my career? Or you’re not sure why you set me up to look like a wanton woman?’’ It seemed as though her blood was boiling in her veins. Her face felt hot, her chest was tight and her vision became blurred as she tried to stare him down through the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Anger, she reminded herself. Stay focused on the anger, and don’t think about how much it hurts to have your career opportunities slashed and burned by one reckless conversation. She took a deep breath to fortify herself for the final salvo. ‘‘You owe me big-time, Mr. Hunter Matthews. And I want you to pay up now.’’

She heard a rustling sound behind her, but was distracted when he stealthily approached her. Positioning his body close to hers, he reached toward her.

For the space of a millisecond, Julie thought that he might take her in his arms and kiss her again. And during that slow-motion fraction of time, she wanted him to do it.

Time had treated him well. Gone was the lean teen physique, and in its place was a body enhanced by firm muscles and a tailored suit. Further magnifying his physical appeal was the lithe confidence with which he moved—confidence gained from maturity and experience. It was an exhilarating combination, and Julie was not immune to it. He’d been a potent package before he’d left for college. Now he was absolutely stupendous….

Lifting her chin in anticipation, she took a breath to steady herself. Of their own accord, her eyelids lowered, and she ran her tongue over her parched lips.

His hand briefly touched her arm as he moved her slightly to one side, and her knees became like pudding. Then the contact was broken as he leaned past her to grab the door. Mmm, privacy.

‘‘Sorry about the disturbance, folks. Everything’s under control now.’’

Julie’s lashes fluttered open. Folks? She turned just before he pushed the heavy wooden door shut and saw a half-dozen curious faces smiling at them. Most of them were the same people who’d watched as she sang to Mr. Oltmeier this morning.

With a barricade between them and their audience, they were alone again. But having been jolted out of her momentary distraction, and disappointed that the situation hadn’t gone according to her secret wishes, Julie refocused her attention on the matter at hand.

‘‘You owe me a job.’’

‘‘That would never do.’’

‘‘I don’t think you understand how important the Merry Messengers job was to me. Losing that position is going to severely and negatively impact my career plans.’’

He had the nerve to laugh. ‘‘You delivered singing telegrams. What kind of stepping-stone is that? Were you hoping to someday deliver singing and dancing telegrams?’’

Julie crossed her arms over her chest. ‘‘Of course not,’’ she retorted. ‘‘I’ve already been a dancing banana.’’

Too late, she realized she had only provided him more fuel for his entertainment. Looking at it from his point of view, she supposed it did sound silly to tie her career plans to a ridiculous part-time job, but she couldn’t tell him the real reason she needed the Merry Messengers gig. For one thing, it sounded disreputable to say it provided her with plenty of men to kiss. For another, claiming she needed kissable men to report about in her test column would betray the terms of the agreement she’d made with Mr. Upshaw.

‘‘Just give me a job working here, and I’ll let bygones be bygones.’’ Maybe she should just drop the matter now and look for employment as a waitress, but this was a matter of principle. He owed her. Besides, it would be so cool to do the Dick Tracy thing. As for the column, she’d have to find another way to meet potential kissers.

‘‘I told you I can’t do that.’’

‘‘Why not? I saw a TV news magazine report about private investigators, and it showed how you spend days or even weeks following people around. Certainly a couple of extra eyes, ears and hands could help lighten your load.’’

Once again, he closed the distance between them. This time, though, he wasn’t reaching for the door. He touched her chin with the crook of his finger, and Julie couldn’t help wanting him to finish what she’d started in her mind a moment earlier.

Hope resurged in her heart as his finger trailed upward along her cheek. Brushing a tendril of hair away from her face, he stroked the curve of her ear. As he leaned toward her, his dark eyes heavy with passion, she felt as though her lungs were paralyzed by his heady nearness. Her body braced for what was to come, and the memory of the last kiss sent a warmth throughout her that pooled in the pit of her femininity.

He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. Her lips parted in readiness. And then it came. Apollo had landed. Unfortunately, it missed the mark and ended up on her cheek instead. A dry, brotherly kiss.

Disappointment flooded her soul and found release in the form of a heavy sigh.

‘‘That’s why we can’t work in the same office.’’ Hunter leaned back and tucked his hands in his pockets, a wry smile on his handsome features. ‘‘Something happened between us this morning…something I’m not ready or willing to explore. I’ve accomplished too much here to risk it with an office fling.’’

The cynic in her wondered if his reluctance for romance had anything to do with his former fiancée. No one knew why they’d broken up years ago; he was too much of a gentleman to talk about it. But that didn’t stop people from speculating that Yvonne had been at fault. In fact, Hunter’s silence on the matter may have contributed to that assumption. And they all hated her for breaking his heart.

All except Julie. Although she’d hated to see him hurting, she’d been secretly glad that he would not be marrying. Not that she could have taken advantage of his availability; she’d been in college at the time and certain that someone as handsome, successful and mature as Hunter would not be interested in anyone like her.

And now he’d made that perfectly clear. Julie straightened her spine. ‘‘Don’t flatter yourself. I have something to say about the matter, too.’’

‘‘Yes, and you’ve already said plenty.’’ He picked up the ukulele she’d set on the chair earlier and handed it to her. ‘‘I’d be happy to give you a good reference, though.’’

‘‘Your technique in discussing my work with employers leaves a lot to be desired.’’

To his credit, he looked remorseful about his role in her dilemma.

‘‘So are you going to hire me or what? I have bills to pay and…career goals to accomplish.’’

Hunter paused, rubbing his thumb over the little scar beside his mouth.

Definitely a good sign. Julie grinned at his response.

‘‘What? Why are you smiling? I haven’t answered yet.’’

‘‘Yes, you have. You always did that thing with your scar before you caved in and let me tag along on dates with you and my sister.’’

He conceded with a nod of his head. ‘‘I’ll have to work on that.’’ A moment passed before he added, ‘‘By the way, how’s Charlene? I haven’t seen her in ages.’’

Since their mutual breakup thirteen years ago, to be exact. Julie hadn’t understood at the time why her sister had not been torn apart over their peaceable parting. Charlene had explained that their relationship had run its course, and she soon moved on to another boyfriend, but Julie had thought at the time that if she’d been in her sister’s shoes, she would have been devastated.

‘‘Charlene married Nathan Kleinschmidt. They just had their first baby, a girl, last month.’’

Becoming an aunt had been a momentous event for Julie. Not only did her tiny niece give her someone to dote on, but little Evie had also stirred a long-held desire for a child of her own. Seeing the baby watch her mother’s face with an expression of pure love had triggered a need in Julie, a longstanding need that she’d only recently recognized. A need to be cherished.

Each time one of her former classmates had married, Julie had sat at the wedding, watching with envy the expressions of pure adoration the grooms had bestowed on their brides. Julie wanted to be looked at like that. She wanted to be the center of someone’s universe. And the birth of her niece had opened a flood of feelings that had been growing for a long time.

‘‘Please give them both my congratulations,’’ Hunter said.

He studied her for a long moment, and Julie felt like she was nine years old again.

‘‘As it happens, I am temporarily short on staff and could use you to fill in for about a month. I can’t promise anything permanent, but it should keep you going until something else comes along.’’

Then he named a salary that was higher than her pay—even with tips—had been at Merry Messengers.

Working at a private investigation agency wouldn’t give her much opportunity to meet new people, unless, of course, they happened to be lurking in a bush near hers. But it would keep food on the table, and maybe she could introduce herself to some of the people in the nearby offices.

‘‘Deal,’’ she said, holding out her hand to seal their arrangement. Julie did an admirable job of pretending not to notice the strength in his large hand, or the way his long fingers wrapped around her own. ‘‘You won’t regret this.’’

‘‘No offense,’’ he countered, ‘‘but something tells me I will.’’

If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was all set to attend a funeral…except no mourner would dare show up at such a solemn event looking as sexy as that.

The snug black turtleneck shirt would have shown off her trim figure, if not for the tailored, black leather jacket, which was zipped at the bottom. Then there was the skirt—also black and made of a touchable fabric—that slit enticingly over her left thigh. Sheer black hose and a pair of backless shoes finished off the ensemble. The only spot of color on her was the bright red lipstick that called attention to her wide smile.

Hunter fought to quell his physical response to the sight of her. Trying to focus on more professional matters, he led her to Trudy’s desk. ‘‘This is your station. Active client files are in the bottom-right credenza drawer, the procedure manual is in the top right and stationery and supplies are on the left.’’

She looked perplexed. ‘‘This area is so open. How am I supposed to get any work done without some privacy?’’

Now it was Hunter’s turn to be puzzled. ‘‘This is the most effective arrangement. Since you’re my right-hand staff, I’ll need you to be accessible at all times.’’

Julie shrugged and tossed her black purse into the knee well under the desk. ‘‘I suppose it’ll do. I’ll be on the road most of the time, anyway, so it’s not like I’ll be shackled to it.’’

Hunter flexed his hand. If he were at his own desk, he’d be working the grip exerciser that he kept in the bottom drawer. It was a great stress reliever, and he had a feeling he’d be using it a lot during the next month. ‘‘On the road?’’

She tilted her head, and a lock of soft brown hair fell forward over her shoulder. ‘‘Guess I’ll have to study up on the lingo. Maybe you call it being ‘in the field.’’’ When he failed to respond in the affirmative, she tried again. ‘‘‘Research,’ perhaps? Or ‘on stakeout’?’’

A groan escaped his throat. He hadn’t spelled out that her duties involved only secretarial work, so she had filled in the blanks with a glamorized image of what she assumed her job would be. ‘‘Sorry, Julie Beth, but there will be no stakeouts for you.’’ Remembering some of her childhood antics, he gave a little laugh. ‘‘Besides, I doubt that someone who used to be known as a Mexican jumping bean would be able to sit still during the long boring hours on stakeout.’’

‘‘I’m not a child anymore.’’ She crossed her arms at her waist, inadvertently drawing his attention to her flat stomach and the gentle curve of her hips. ‘‘I’ve grown up, in case you haven’t noticed.’’

A man would have to be blind, deaf and paralyzed not to notice. Hunter took a moment to indulge in the awareness of those changes. For one thing, her voice had deepened from a childish soprano to a sultry alto. The youthful roundness had vanished from her freckled face, leaving delicately defined features that seemed at once expressive and mysterious. The changes in her body had been the most noticeable, but now that he considered her, he could see that even her attitude was different. She was still exuberant like the little girl who used to shadow his steps, but there seemed to be an underlying focus to her actions, as if she had somehow managed to harness her boundless energy and use it for a predetermined purpose. Such a potent combination could be either dynamic or disastrous.

She sat on the edge of her desk, the slit in her skirt parting in invitation, and kicked off her shoes in an ages-old habit that she had apparently been unable to conquer. To his annoyance, Hunter’s thoughts led him to imagining her shedding other items of clothing. He flexed his hand again and chastised himself for his wayward thoughts. Julie was, after all, to be his secretary for the next month. It wouldn’t do to start their time together by harboring after-hours thoughts.

Her gaze left his as she smiled at someone behind him. Hunter turned to see that one of his investigators, Ben Irving, had slowed his steps and seemed to be considering joining them. But a glare from Hunter helped him change his mind, and Ben continued on his way toward the file room, glancing over his shoulder at Julie. If Hunter’s reaction was any indication, this was going to be a long, stress-filled month.

‘‘I think I’d make a good P.I.,’’ Julie persisted. ‘‘Just give me a chance, and you’ll see.’’

A chance to do what? Wreck the cases he’d worked so hard to bring to fruition? Although Mark, one of his investigators, was honeymooning with Trudy, Hunter had no intention of turning Julie loose on Mark’s cases. Those he would handle himself. ‘‘That’s a very tempting suggestion,’’ he lied, ‘‘but your duties will be primarily secretarial. My assistant is out on a month-long honeymoon, and I’ll need you to keep things going smoothly until she returns.’’

Why did that last statement give him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach?

‘‘But I’m not cut out to be a secretary. I can handle detail work if it’s for something I like doing, but typing and filing for someone else leaves me cold. I’m much more suited to surveillance work, and I’m good at it, too.’’ Julie pointed a manicured finger at him. ‘‘I used to spy on you and Charlene all the time, and you never caught on.’’

Hunter couldn’t help laughing. ‘‘I knew you were there. Your favorite hiding places were behind the sofa or the drapes. And sometimes you lurked inside the TV cabinet.’’

‘‘You knew?’’ She seemed truly amazed, as if he were some kind of genius for having detected her whereabouts.

‘‘Of course. You always took off your shoes, and your stinky feet gave you away.’’

Julie slid off the desk and slipped her shoes back on. ‘‘My feet didn’t stink!’’

To her chagrin, his only response was an amused chuckle, and then he launched into describing her job duties. Secretarial duties.

She interrupted his litany about filing procedures and telephone protocol. ‘‘Perhaps, as you said, my spying technique could have used some work, but I was only a kid then. With a little coaching, I’m sure I could do much better now.’’

‘‘Forget it. Now, over here is the information on how to do Internet searches and—’’

‘‘Maybe I’ll ask Mr. Oltmeier about letting me track down the bad guys.’’ As a teen, Hunter had lorded his seniority over her, telling her what to do as if she had no choice in the matter. But she had quickly learned that going over his head to Gran or his mother had often garnered the results she wanted. Such as permission to accompany him and her sister to the ice-cream parlor for a sundae. ‘‘His name is first in Oltmeier-Matthews, you know.’’

There, let him deny that.

Without speaking a word, Hunter merely raised an eyebrow. The gesture told her in no uncertain terms that such one-upmanship tactics wouldn’t work here.

‘‘All right, I’ll do the stupid desk work. But I don’t have to like it.’’

He flashed her a smug smile. ‘‘Good girl.’’

‘‘But I have a few terms of my own.’’

If she didn’t set firm limits right from the start, he might get the idea she was still a little kid that he could order around at will. And she wasn’t about to let that happen. He tried the raised eyebrow thing again, but she didn’t let it get to her this time.

‘‘First, I don’t want you talking to me like I’m still a child. I’m an adult now, with a college education, and I expect to be treated accordingly.’’ She neglected to mention that her degree was in theater costuming. No need to undermine herself by offering too much information.

‘‘Fair enough,’’ he agreed.

‘‘And don’t call me Julie Beth. It’s just Julie now.’’

‘‘Done.’’ He extended his hand and gripped her fingers in his warm grasp. Julie felt a tingle surge all the way to her toes. ‘‘Welcome to Oltmeier-Matthews.’’

He released her hand much too soon. She stood there feeling awkward, wishing she had pockets in which to thrust her hands, the right one of which seemed to still burn from Hunter’s touch.

‘‘Now I suggest you take some time to go through the files and familiarize yourself with the cases. The information in them and the way they’re organized will give you a good idea of what we do around here.’’

‘‘Files,’’ she grumbled. ‘‘Spying would be more people-oriented.’’

Hunter picked up a few of the client folders from the open drawer and dropped them on her desk. ‘‘These are people. I suggest you treat them with care.’’

Julie released a disappointed sigh. How on earth, she wondered, would she ever meet any kissable men while stuck at this desk?

After transcribing the final sentence of the letter, Julie took off the headphones, typed in the signature lines and turned up the volume on the radio that crowded her desk. If she couldn’t enjoy the work, she’d at least entertain herself by listening to the prank call of the day. She blew a bored sigh when Hunter brought her another cassette tape jammed with dictated letters, memos and instructions.

‘‘Everything going okay?’’ he asked.

‘‘Hunky-dory,’’ Julie replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, and stuck a report on the stack of papers to go to Spencer in accounting. Truthfully, mundane was a more fitting description of how things were going. ‘‘You know, I really would do fine on stakeout. All this nitpicky paperwork is a waste of my talents.’’

Hunter reached over and transferred the report from Spencer’s pile to Priscilla’s. ‘‘If you can’t keep a proper handle on this ‘nitpicky paperwork,’ how can you expect to handle a delicate matter like surveillance, which requires so much attention to detail?’’

It would be different if the paperwork was relevant to something Julie liked doing. Like reporting. But spending all day shuffling papers for someone else’s projects seemed pointless.

Hunter gave her a smug wink and returned to his office.

Julie bit her tongue to keep from hurling a scathing comment at his retreating form. Instead, she turned her fury on the keyboard, jabbing the keys as she punched in the command to print the letter she’d just typed.

‘‘I’ll show him,’’ she vowed. If he wanted attention to details, then that was what she’d give him. Julie Beth Fasano would be so meticulous, so methodical and so, well, mundane that he would have no excuse for refusing to allow her on his surveillance outings. She would be so perfect, so particular and so persnickety that—

The printer jammed.

Unwilling to risk gobbing up the machine with paper, she went to the computer and hit a key to cancel the print job. The letter disappeared from the screen.

Julie stifled a scream of frustration.

‘‘Is that letter to Mrs. Huffnagle ready yet?’’ Hunter called from his office.

‘‘It’s coming along.’’ There was no telling when, but she’d get it to him eventually.

‘‘Great. How about turning that radio down a bit.’’

The last wasn’t a request, but an order. She lowered the volume and slid her shoes on in preparation to go look for Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary, who might be able to help her unjam the printer and retrieve her lost document. Spencer chose that moment to pick up the papers she’d been intending to deliver to him. He gave her an assessing smile.

In return, Julie pushed a jar of toffees toward him. ‘‘How much candy would it take to persuade you to help me with this stupid computer?’’

Spencer shook his head. ‘‘I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. But there is something much more appetizing that you could bribe me with.’’

One corner of his mouth lifted in anticipation.

Julie automatically assessed the accountant’s kissing potential. In the looks department, he was okay, despite the fact that he used a tad too much gel on his artfully styled, dark-blond hair. His face was handsome in a slightly better than average way, and his slate-blue suit gave an impression of good taste while carefully concealing the beginnings of a paunch. From what little she knew about him, Spencer seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t interested in him as dating material. Even so, he’d probably stolen his share of kisses and might be willing to enlighten her with the benefit of his experience. And give her something to write about in her column.

She smiled and self-consciously straightened the turtleneck collar at her throat. ‘‘I suppose that’s something we’ll have to negotiate.’’

He graciously let the subject drop as he moved behind her desk and hunched beside her to maneuver the computer mouse. While he worked to retrieve the document, the radio deejay chattered on about how many calls he’d received that morning.

‘‘I just don’t understand all the commotion over a silly newspaper column,’’ the deejay continued. ‘‘It seems like everyone in Richmond is asking who this mystery kisser is. And they’re all calling us, as if we should know.’’

Julie felt her eyes nearly pop, then struggled to maintain an attitude of nonchalance as the radio aired a conversation with one of the curious callers. Slipping her shoes off once again, she leaned back in her chair and worried how this might affect her chances for employment with the newspaper.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Spencer asked as he moused his way around the computer screen.

‘‘Nothing,’’ she said a bit too hastily. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Julie saw that he didn’t seem to notice her unease. Emboldened, she decided to probe for his reaction to her column. ‘‘I was just thinking about that mystery kisser they were talking about just now. I haven’t read the paper yet—did you see the column?’’

Spencer hit the enter key. ‘‘Oops.’’

Hunter chose that moment to emerge from his office and ask for the Lifeway Insurance file.

Spencer straightened and handed her the mouse. ‘‘Sorry I couldn’t help you.’’

After he left, Julie stood up to block Hunter’s view of the cryptic error message on her computer monitor. It was still her first day. The last thing she wanted was to let him know she’d managed to mess things up already.

He took the file she handed him and paused to stare down at her. ‘‘You weren’t that short this morning.’’

Without moving from her position, Julie stretched a toe toward the black mules hiding under her desk. ‘‘I, uh…’’ She gave a little laugh. ‘‘My shoes temporarily went AWOL.’’

He glanced down at her nylon-clad feet, then ever so slowly pulled his gaze up her body until his eyes met hers. He grinned knowingly, and the suggestiveness in his smile made her wish it was August already so she could give him another birthday kiss. ‘‘Perhaps you should ask Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary to help you retrieve Mrs. Huffnagle’s letter.’’

Julie hurriedly slid her feet into the recaptured shoes and made a move to leave, but Hunter stopped her with a hand on her arm.

‘‘Before you go, I’d better warn you that Priscilla is a notorious matchmaker. She has tried to fix up her bachelor brother with every single female in the office.’’

Julie smiled broadly. Another potential kisser.

Hunter appeared irked by her reaction. ‘‘Why are you looking so happy? I’m trying to warn you not to let her sic her brother on you.’’ He shifted the folder to his other arm. ‘‘And while we’re on the subject, you should probably stay away from Spencer, too. He’s totally trustworthy where numbers are concerned, but that kind of integrity doesn’t always follow him into his social life.’’

Once again, Julie felt like a ten-year-old being lectured by her older, more worldly brother. She clenched her teeth and accidentally bit her cheek. With a grimace, she sought to remind him once again that she wasn’t the little girl next door who needed to be reminded not to run into the street.

‘‘I’m stating the obvious here, but you’re my boss, not my date filter.’’

His eyebrows pulled together in the frequently used expression of his youth. He had done that a lot when they were neighbors, mainly when Julie had used her own form of logic to explain whatever mischief she’d managed to get herself into.

‘‘Huh?’’

She paused for a second, reminding herself that Hunter wasn’t normally the type to interfere in her personal life. The only times he’d ever butted into her business were when he was concerned that she might get hurt. Like the time he’d caught her trying to make an explosive out of cap-gun powder. So she sought to reassure him. ‘‘Thanks to you and Gran, I’ve accumulated all the savvy advice I’ll ever need. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.’’

‘‘Yeah, but you still see only the best in people, sometimes even when they don’t deserve it.’’ His expression turned serious, as it had when they used to hold their philosophical discussions about whether cats had nine lives or lemmings really committed mass suicide. ‘‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’’

She lifted her chin. When would he understand that she was no longer an impulsive child who needed his protection? ‘‘I can take care of myself. Contrary to your long-held opinion, I’m not an accident waiting to happen.’’

At that moment, the deejay announced his return from the commercial break with the sound effect of shattering glass. Julie started at the noise, and Hunter gave her one of those knowing looks that once again managed to make her feel as if he had read her very thoughts.

His response was a resigned sigh. ‘‘When you talk to Priscilla, ask her to block out some time every day for the next week to give you some intensive training.’’

He turned to head back to his office, pausing only long enough to straighten one of the stacks of papers on her desk.

Julie popped a toffee into her mouth and tossed the wrapper into the trash can. This next month was going to be a long, hard one.

Chapter Three

Everyone loves a good mystery. Some people like it in movies or books. Others, such as doctors and scientists, attempt to solve mysteries in their jobs every day. Me? I like a bit of mystery in the man I’m kissing.

The man on the phone sounded a lot like Hunter. But why would he be calling from his office while he was with a client?

‘‘Hunter, is everything all right?’’

He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘‘This is Peter Matthews, Hunter’s brother. Is he in?’’

It took Julie a moment to adjust to the fact that the voice on the phone didn’t belong to her employer. A span of about nine or ten years separated the brothers in age, which meant that Peter had been practically an adult by the time she was born. Although he hadn’t been around much as she was growing up, she had seen him occasionally during holidays and his frequent visits home. And at his father’s funeral. Hunter had taken the elder Matthews’s death very hard.

His father, a policeman, had been killed in an on-duty accident when his partner had failed to follow a standard safety procedure. For a brief time Hunter had followed in his dad’s footsteps and worked in law enforcement before leaving it to work at the agency. Julie supposed the accident was also the reason Hunter had become such a stickler for policy and procedure.

‘‘Peter, it’s nice to talk to you again. This is Julie Fasano.’’ A pause followed while he apparently searched his memory to place the name. ‘‘I used to live next door to you.’’

‘‘Julie?’’ he asked, as if still unsure who he might be talking to.

‘‘You might remember me as Julie Beth.’’

‘‘Oh, yes, Julie Beth! The little girl who used to come over all the time and mooch cookies. So you’re working for my brother now, eh?’’ He chuckled softly. ‘‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that.’’

‘‘Well, actually, it’s been fairly uneventful.’’ Manners kept her from telling the full truth—that the job was boring. ‘‘Hunter is meeting with a client right now. Would you like me to get him for you?’’

She supposed she shouldn’t interrupt him, but this was his brother and it might be important. Besides, she was curious about the discussion between Hunter and his client, and if she had an excuse to go in there, she might catch a portion of their conversation. Better yet, she’d love to actively participate in finding the daughter that the elegant Mrs. Dexter had given up for adoption nearly forty years ago.

‘‘No, but you can give him a message for me.’’

Rats! Julie frantically searched for something to write on. In the process, she knocked a cup of pens onto the floor. Picking one up, she uncapped it and started scribbling on the closest bit of paper available—the margin of the newspaper in which she’d been reading her column. Peter started talking, but the ink refused to flow.

‘‘Hold on a sec.’’ She dragged the tip across the paper a few times before a spot of blue emerged. ‘‘‘Check to see if…’ What was the rest?’’

‘‘If the subject we discussed recently might be the mystery kisser.’’

For a moment, it seemed as though Julie’s heart forgot to beat. Surely he couldn’t be referring to her column? And who was this ‘‘subject’’ he’d mentioned? ‘‘Did you say ‘the mystery kisser’?’’

‘‘Yeah. It’s the new column in the newspaper that everyone’s talking about. Today’s article gives me reason to believe she might be the author, ‘Ann Onimus.’’’

‘‘Oh my.’’ Julie wondered if it would be prudent to probe for a name.

‘‘Yeah, that was my reaction, too.’’

Julie hesitated before asking her next question. It was important to find out more about this curious development, but she didn’t want to let on that her interest was more personal than professional. ‘‘I’m afraid I don’t understand the significance. Why would Hunter want to know who’s writing a column about kissing styles?’’

‘‘He doesn’t.’’

She allowed a moment of silence to follow Peter’s statement, hoping he’d fill it with a more in-depth explanation. He didn’t.

‘‘Just give him my message,’’ Peter continued. ‘‘He’ll know what it’s about.’’

‘‘Sure. I’ll do that.’’ With any luck, Hunter might be a bit more forthcoming than his older brother had been. And someday pigs would fly. But she could certainly give it her best shot.

‘‘Good luck in your new job.’’

With the way things were going lately, she was going to need more than luck. Whether Hunter liked it or not, she was going to have to do a bit of sleuthing of her own.

For the next quarter hour, Julie resisted interrupting Hunter’s meeting. The conversation with Peter consumed her thoughts. She tried to distract herself from worrying about it by focusing on a case in which a Mr. Younce was claiming disability benefits for a work-related back injury. Hunter had already explained that much of their business involved investigating insurance claims that were suspected of being fraudulent. Lifeway, the insurance company with offices in the same building, provided them with a lot of these cases. As for Mr. Younce’s supposed incapacitation, the man had reportedly been seen doing yard work and even demonstrating some wrestling moves to his young son. Although it would thrill Julie to catch the dishonest scumball in the act of scamming his employer, the mounds of paperwork attached to the Younce case left her cold.

Muttering under her breath, she chanted, ‘‘Bored, bored, bored, bored.’’

Julie moved aside some folders to turn up the radio. Though she doubted her column would still hold the public’s attention after yesterday’s brief discussion, she tuned in anyway. A popular rock tune was playing, and she noted that the Burning Issues talk segment was another twenty minutes away.

Too antsy to sit still for that long, she carried the newspaper to Hunter’s office door and listened to hear if the meeting was almost finished. The heavy wood effectively blocked most of the sounds, so she stepped closer and pressed an ear to the dark oak. No luck. Just some general murmuring sounds that she couldn’t distinguish.

With a flip of her hair, she pressed her ear more firmly to the barrier. In almost the same instant, the knob clicked, the door swung open and Hunter leaped forward to catch Julie as she fell inward toward the surprised pair.

‘‘Goodness!’’ said Mrs. Dexter, staggering back a step.

Bracing herself with a hand on Hunter’s firm abdomen, Julie regained her balance. Time slowed as she breathed in the clean, masculine scent of him, and she briefly forgot that he was the boss and she was the secretary. She even forgot there was another person in the room with them. All she was aware of while she clutched his waist was that he was a man and she was a woman. And she wanted to investigate him with every one of her senses.

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