Guinevere had a couple of second thoughts, then gave up and went along peacefully. There really wasn't much she could do. Carla hadn't wanted to meet her tonight in the first place, and now that she'd found a way to avoid the discussion, her sister wasn't likely to relinquish it. Her blond head was already bent solicitously toward Larry, who appeared to be equally involved in the developing conversation on depression.
"What's your sister's problem anyway?" Zac helped Guinevere forcefully into her red wool coat and then buttoned his own rather worn-looking suede jacket. He pulled up his collar as he guided Guinevere out into the chilly evening.
"A man," Guinevere informed him with heavy drama.
"She's seeing a psychiatrist because of a man?"
"I know it sounds ridiculous, but Carla's a very sensitive person. She was really quite devastated a few months ago because of - never mind. I'm sure you don't want to hear about my family's personal problems."
He considered that for a long moment. "Have you ever had therapy to help you get over a relationship?"
"Are you kidding? I'm a businesswoman. I haven't got time to wallow in melodramatic relationships. The city of Seattle is hardly going to sit around waiting for its business tax while I visit with a therapist. You of all people should understand that. You're the owner of a small business yourself."
"True. And I'd be the first to admit certain luxuries have to be kept to the bare minimum. The cash flow can get tight. Very tight. Sometimes just a couple of thousand will make the difference between staying in business or going under." Zac paused.
Guinevere ignored the obvious opening. She would be a fool to confide in Zac Justis about the $2,000. If he thought she was going to provide him with an explanation for her activities in the StarrTech computer a few months ago, he was sadly deluding himself. "Have you really got reservations for dinner, or was that just a ruse to separate me from Larry and Carla?"
"Why do you sound so suspicious?" Zac looked genuinely offended.
"Around you it comes naturally."
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and bent his head a little against the faint mist. "How about a bowl of chowder down at one of the places on the waterfront?"
"No, thanks, I'd rather go home and wash my hair. I knew it all along."
"Knew what?"
"That you weren't really going to take me out to a nice dinner."
"What's wrong with clam chowder?" Zac demanded. He was already walking her toward the waterfront. "Add a few crackers, and it's a meal in itself. Besides, we haven't got time for a long, drawn-out dinner."
"Why not?" Guinevere glanced at him in surprise.
"I've got plans for the evening."
"Include me out."
He took her arm as they crossed the railroad tracks and then Alaskan Way. "Don't you want to come with me to take a look at Cal Bender's house?"
"What?" In startled amazement Guinevere came to a halt on the sidewalk in front of one of the many shops that lined the waterfront piers. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"Partly because the only thing you've been able to find out while doing your Mata Hari routine is that no one knows why Bender hasn't been in to work and partly because I'm just naturally curious. Also, I admit I'm getting a little restless, and checking out Bender's house is at least a start. Gives me something to do."
"Sounds to me like a perfect example of the devil finding work for idle hands. Listen, whatever is going on at StarrTech, you can take my word for it that Cal wouldn't be involved. His whole goal in life is to strike it big with that software game he and Larry are designing."
"Come on, the best chowder place is on the next pier."
"Are you serious?"
"About the chowder or about having a look at Bender's place?" He sounded dryly patient.
"About the, uh, search. What if he's there? Zac, you can't just go into a person's home and…and start looking through his closets."
"No? People do it all the time."
"Not legally."
"No,
"What's your sister's problem anyway?" Zac helped Guinevere forcefully into her red wool coat and then buttoned his own rather worn-looking suede jacket. He pulled up his collar as he guided Guinevere out into the chilly evening.
"A man," Guinevere informed him with heavy drama.
"She's seeing a psychiatrist because of a man?"
"I know it sounds ridiculous, but Carla's a very sensitive person. She was really quite devastated a few months ago because of - never mind. I'm sure you don't want to hear about my family's personal problems."
He considered that for a long moment. "Have you ever had therapy to help you get over a relationship?"
"Are you kidding? I'm a businesswoman. I haven't got time to wallow in melodramatic relationships. The city of Seattle is hardly going to sit around waiting for its business tax while I visit with a therapist. You of all people should understand that. You're the owner of a small business yourself."
"True. And I'd be the first to admit certain luxuries have to be kept to the bare minimum. The cash flow can get tight. Very tight. Sometimes just a couple of thousand will make the difference between staying in business or going under." Zac paused.
Guinevere ignored the obvious opening. She would be a fool to confide in Zac Justis about the $2,000. If he thought she was going to provide him with an explanation for her activities in the StarrTech computer a few months ago, he was sadly deluding himself. "Have you really got reservations for dinner, or was that just a ruse to separate me from Larry and Carla?"
"Why do you sound so suspicious?" Zac looked genuinely offended.
"Around you it comes naturally."
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and bent his head a little against the faint mist. "How about a bowl of chowder down at one of the places on the waterfront?"
"No, thanks, I'd rather go home and wash my hair. I knew it all along."
"Knew what?"
"That you weren't really going to take me out to a nice dinner."
"What's wrong with clam chowder?" Zac demanded. He was already walking her toward the waterfront. "Add a few crackers, and it's a meal in itself. Besides, we haven't got time for a long, drawn-out dinner."
"Why not?" Guinevere glanced at him in surprise.
"I've got plans for the evening."
"Include me out."
He took her arm as they crossed the railroad tracks and then Alaskan Way. "Don't you want to come with me to take a look at Cal Bender's house?"
"What?" In startled amazement Guinevere came to a halt on the sidewalk in front of one of the many shops that lined the waterfront piers. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"Partly because the only thing you've been able to find out while doing your Mata Hari routine is that no one knows why Bender hasn't been in to work and partly because I'm just naturally curious. Also, I admit I'm getting a little restless, and checking out Bender's house is at least a start. Gives me something to do."
"Sounds to me like a perfect example of the devil finding work for idle hands. Listen, whatever is going on at StarrTech, you can take my word for it that Cal wouldn't be involved. His whole goal in life is to strike it big with that software game he and Larry are designing."
"Come on, the best chowder place is on the next pier."
"Are you serious?"
"About the chowder or about having a look at Bender's place?" He sounded dryly patient.
"About the, uh, search. What if he's there? Zac, you can't just go into a person's home and…and start looking through his closets."
"No? People do it all the time."
"Not legally."
"No,
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