Flawless by Heather Graham

were there at the end, so...”
    â€œBut I wasn’t there at the beginning. You went to the store why? Were you looking for a premade piece or a unique stone you could have set?” he asked.
    She looked at him, wondering why guilt had immediately set in. “I went to see some loose stones. A friend of mine was married—still is, technically speaking—to one of the salesmen there. She’s interested in buying one of the stones he handles, but she didn’t want to see him, so she asked me to go and look at them. It turned out he wasn’t working, but anyone can show another salesman’s stones. But before I could see them, the thieves came in.”
    â€œAnd had you ever seen any of them before?”
    She shook her head. “I still haven’t actually seen them. The ski masks, you know. But none of them sounded familiar. I’ve definitely never seen the driver before.”
    â€œYeah, this is New York, after all,” he murmured.
    She couldn’t help but smile drily. “You mean we all live by the ‘don’t make eye contact’ rule?”
    â€œI’d like you to come in tomorrow and take a look at some pictures of the men,” he said.
    â€œWhy? You can’t need a lineup. You caught them all red-handed.” The thief who escaped from the van had later been apprehended by one of the officers.
    â€œI’d still like to know if they look familiar to you in any way.”
    â€œI’ll come, but...”
    â€œI’ll send a car for you,” he said. “Around ten?”
    At ten she would be working her job at the Midtown offices of Doctors Fuller and Miro.
    And she knew for a fact that her employers—whose main work came from police consultations—would have no problem with her helping the police.
    She started to look around for her purse, which one of the officers had brought to her. She dug into it and produced a card. She remembered how pleased she had been to have a card with the prestigious names of her employers on it—along with her own.
    â€œYou’re a psychiatrist?” he asked.
    â€œPsychologist,” she said. “May I go now? I have to get back to work.”
    â€œYou see clients at night?” he asked skeptically.
    She shook her head, annoyed to find herself flushing slightly. “I’m a bartender, too. Family. I bartend for the family. I mean, the family doesn’t have a private bartender. We own a pub. Finnegan’s on Broadway. I’m still helping out there.”
    She was annoyed with herself for babbling. She didn’t know why he made her feel so off-kilter.
    Guilt!
    But she hadn’t done anything. She’d returned the “borrowed” diamond, for heaven’s sake.
    But there was something about the way he looked at her... It was his eyes, she thought, so light against the bronze of his face. She realized that he was tall and solidly built and really good-looking.
    She flushed and looked away. Sex appeal wasn’t something she should be thinking about right now.
    Especially when people had been killed in a situation like the one she had survived.
    â€œYou should let them take you to the hospital,” he said, “and make sure you’re all right. We were flying around pretty good back there.” He smiled again, and she was shocked by what it did to his face. His pin-striped suit was rumpled and his tie was askew, so he wasn’t looking quite as ruggedly GQ as he might have, but his smile made him seem far too...attractive.
    â€œI’m fine. Really. I have three brothers. I’ve been through much worse,” she told him. “Really, I just want to get to the pub.”
    â€œI’ll get an officer to drive you,” he said.
    â€œIt’s all right. I can hop on the subway.”
    â€œNot if you want to avoid the press—which I very much hope you’ll want to do,” he told her.
    â€œI do want to avoid them, but why