Reason To Believe by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

fast.”
    “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon in New York.”
    While she made tea, he told her about their target at Cal Tech. She studied the picture on his computer, then shook her head. “He wasn’t in the audience yesterday.”
    “There were about a hundred people there. You could have missed him.”
    “Not likely. I see every single person, and I don’t forget faces. I would have noticed him. We can pull yesterday’s tapes and look, but I don’t remember him.”
    “Maybe he disguised himself.”
    “Possibly.” She clicked out of his program. “Can I check my e-mail from here?”
    “Go right ahead.”
    She tapped a few keys, absently lifting her hair to reveal a long, pale, slender neck and something fuchsia on her well-toned back. Another tattoo?
    He took a step closer, inching down the thin fabric of her top.
    She didn’t even flinch, just clicked the computer and acted like it was perfectly normal for him to examine her back. “It’s a butterfly. My favorite creature.”
    This one was so beautifully drawn, it looked three-dimensional. “Pretty,” he said, resisting the urge to touch it.
    “My mom used to build butterfly gardens when I was a kid.”
    “Do you have any tattoos that are not inspired by your mother?” Not that it wasn’t a sweet touch, but the constant reminder of Mom might take some of the fun out of tattoo-hunting.
    “I have a great one that’s all mine. But you’d have to go a lot farther down.” She tapped the curve of her backside lightly. “I’d show you, but you’d call it flashing.” She threw a dead sexy glance over her shoulder. “But you’re welcome to look.”
    The invitation shot heat to a body already charged just from being around her. His fingers itched to slide those sleep pants right over her butt, but her gasp and sudden change in posture erased the playfulness of the moment.
    “Shit. He’s back. Look.”
    He read over her shoulder. Unlike the others, this message from catburd was very short.
    sorry i missed you tonight, ari.
    She turned, her eyes clouded with worry. “Missed me? With a bullet?”
    “Let me arrange to get prints on Eric Scheff. And get them taken from your trailer.”
    “All right.” She slipped away from the counter and went back to work on the tea she’d abandoned. “But is that going to stop him?”
    “We have two choices, once we nail him. We can scare the crap out of him, if you want.”
    “I want. What’s our other choice?”
    “Legal channels. Restraining order. Take him to court. Get him in jail for a year, fine him. Could be enough.” He inhaled the vanilla as she poured, and considered just how desperate he was for something warm in a cup.
    “I’d rather avoid the legal channels,” she said, bouncing a silver tea strainer on a chain like a yo-yo, and looking up at him with just enough sleep and sweetness in those green eyes to make him feel like he was on the end of the chain.
    “Why?”
    “Because my dad’s retired LAPD, and he’d find out faster than you can say in-junc-tion.”
    “He’s a cop, and you haven’t told him about these e-mails? Or about hiring a bodyguard?”
    “He’s retired.” She pulled the strainer out of the cup and rained tea drops all over the counter. “But he’s a dad first. It would worry him.”
    Chase thought of his own father, a burly engineer who hid his emotions well, but who had cried openly with relief when Chase left the astronaut corps. Of course, he knew the real risk better than most. “I understand,” he said, picking up the tea towel she’d left crumpled on the counter. “Here.”
    For a second she frowned, like she had no idea what to do with the towel. “Oh, yeah. Finish the job, Arianna,” she said in a singsong voice.
    She wiped the drops and hung the towel neatly over the lip of the sink, giving it a little pat when she was done. “There. You could be a good influence on me.”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Did you make your bed before you got up for work