The Collector by Nora Roberts

moon in the background. The one I said I’d buy if I actually owned a wall to hang it on.”
    â€œThat’s the one.”
    â€œDoes he have any wives who died under mysterious circumstances?”
    â€œNot to my knowledge. Unmarried, but was linked with Kelsy Nunn—American Ballet prima ballerina—for a while. Maybe he still is, I can find out. He’s got a solid professional reputation, doesn’t appear to be completely neurotic, as many of them can be. Enjoys his work, apparently. There’s family money, both sides. I’m doing the Google just to fill in the blanks. Father’s side real estate and development, mother’s shipping. Blah blah. Do you want more?”
    He hadn’t
looked
like big money. The brother had, she decided. Butthe man who’d sat across from her in the coffee shop hadn’t looked like money. He’d looked like grief and temper.
    â€œI can check for myself. Basically, you’re saying he’s not going to throw me out the window.”
    â€œI’d say chances are slim. I like him, personally and professionally, and now I’m sorry about his brother. Even though his brother killed one of our clients.”
    â€œI’m going to let him come over, then. He has the Julie Bryant seal of approval.”
    â€œDon’t rush this, Lila.”
    â€œNo, tomorrow. I’m too tired for all this tonight. I was going to beg you to come over again, but I’m just tired.”
    â€œTake a long soak in that fabulous tub. Light some candles, read a book. Then put on your pj’s, order a pizza, watch a romantic comedy on TV, then cuddle up with the cat and sleep.”
    â€œThat sounds like the perfect date.”
    â€œDo it, and call if you change your mind and just need the company. Otherwise, I’m going to do a little more checking on Ashton Archer. I know people who know people. If I’m satisfied,
then
he gets the Julie Bryant seal of approval. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    â€œThat’s a deal.”
    Before she took that long soak, she went back out on the terrace. She stood in the late afternoon heat, looking over at the window, now boarded up, that had once opened into a private world.

    J ai Maddok watched Lila walk into the building—after the skinny brunette stopped for a brief chat with the doorman.
    She’d been right to follow the woman, right to trust her instincts and keep Ivan on the idiot’s brother.
    It wouldn’t be a coincidence the brunette and the brother came out of the police station together, had a long talk together, not when the woman lived, so it seemed, in the same rich American complex as the idiot and his whore.
    The police had a witness—this was her information. This woman must be the witness.
    But what had she seen?
    Her information also indicated the police were investigating a murder-suicide. But she had little hope, even with her disregard for police, that would hold up long, witness or no. She’d had to cobble that ploy together quickly due to Ivan’s overenthusiasm with the whore.
    Her employer was not happy the idiot had been disposed of before he’d given a location. When her employer was unhappy, very bad things happened. Jai usually made those very bad things happen, and didn’t want to be on the receiving end.
    So the problem must be resolved. A puzzle, she decided, and she enjoyed puzzles. The idiot, the whore, the skinny woman and the brother.
    How did they fit, and how would she use them to reach the prize for her employer?
    She would consider, study, resolve.
    She strolled as she considered. She liked the wet heat, the crowded city. Men glanced at her, and those glances would linger. She agreed with them—she deserved much more than a second look. And still, in the hot, crowded city, even she would not make a lasting impression. In affectionate moments, her employer called her his Asian dumpling, but her employer