really glowed for a few moments. She still couldn’t be certain.
As soon as she stepped outside into the warm summer day, Guinevere managed to forget much of the odd sensation that had gripped her during those tense moments inside the house. The power of suggestion really was quite amazing, she marveled as she hurried toward her compact, parked at the curb. She couldn’t wait to tell Zac.
***
Zac was aware of a comfortable, homey feeling as he heard Guinevere’s key in the lock. He put down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes, picked up his glass of tequila and the glass of wine he had poured for Guinevere, and went to meet her. She came through the door looking mildly disheveled and more concerned than he had expected. He bent his head to give her a short, forceful kiss and handed her the wine.
“Hey, what happened? Madame Zoltana get to you after all? The woman must be a real pro.”
Guinevere took a grateful swallow of wine and held up the glass. “Thanks, I needed that. Madame Zoltana was a strange experience, Zac. Not quite what I was expecting.” She sniffed appreciatively. “What’s cooking?”
“I’m glad to see the experience didn’t manage to spoil your appetite. I’m making tacos.” He turned back toward the kitchen, and Guinevere followed, tossing her purse into a hall closet en route. He set his tequila back down on the counter and picked up the knife. “So tell me all about it. How’s the big-time psychic investigation going?”
Guinevere sat on a kitchen stool, one leg swinging idly over the other as she sipped her wine and watched Zac prepare the taco fillings. “Well, for openers, she told me right away I didn’t just work as a temporary secretary. She knew I owned Camelot Services, Zac.”
“Is that so?” He was amused, but he kept a serious expression on his face as he grated cheese. “Anything else?”
“She knew about Carla. Knew she was beautiful and that she’s occasionally been a pain in the ass.”
“Uh-huh. What else?”
He thought Guinevere hesitated a long time before she continued. It was obvious she had been slightly disconcerted by her experience. “She mentioned a man in my life,” Guinevere said slowly. “I’m sure it was you. She seemed to know something about you.”
“What, exactly?” Zac asked sardonically as he picked up his glass of tequila.
“She mentioned danger around you, for one thing.”
“Must have guessed I was going to be slicing tomatoes tonight. I’ve been known to cut myself with a sharp knife while slicing tomatoes. Anything else?”
Again Guinevere paused. “No, not really.”
“How much did this little investigation set you back?”
“Forty bucks,” Guinevere said, grimacing.
“And, of course, if you want to know the good stuff, you’ll have to go back.”
“Precisely. Madame Zoltana exhausts herself easily.”
Zac leaned back against the counter, taking pity on her, she seemed so serious. “What’s the problem, Gwen? You knew she was a con artist.”
“Well, yes. But she did seem to know things, Zac. I was very careful about what I said around Gage and Watson. I don’t see how some of that information could have gotten back to her.”
“Sounds to me as if she just had someone take a look inside your purse.”
Guinevere’s eyes opened wide. “My purse!”
Zac’s mouth curved faintly. “Follow me.” He sauntered back into the hall, opened the closet, and removed Guinevere’s shoulder bag. He unzipped it and turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto a small table. Tossing aside the leather purse, he pushed his fingers idly through the motley collection.
“Here we go, a business card with
Camelot Services
stamped on it in nice big letters, and you listed as president. Your driver’s license, identifying you as Guinevere Jones, the same name as the president of Camelot Services. It also tells us several other things about you, including the fact that you are thirty years old.” He flicked
As soon as she stepped outside into the warm summer day, Guinevere managed to forget much of the odd sensation that had gripped her during those tense moments inside the house. The power of suggestion really was quite amazing, she marveled as she hurried toward her compact, parked at the curb. She couldn’t wait to tell Zac.
***
Zac was aware of a comfortable, homey feeling as he heard Guinevere’s key in the lock. He put down the knife he was using to slice tomatoes, picked up his glass of tequila and the glass of wine he had poured for Guinevere, and went to meet her. She came through the door looking mildly disheveled and more concerned than he had expected. He bent his head to give her a short, forceful kiss and handed her the wine.
“Hey, what happened? Madame Zoltana get to you after all? The woman must be a real pro.”
Guinevere took a grateful swallow of wine and held up the glass. “Thanks, I needed that. Madame Zoltana was a strange experience, Zac. Not quite what I was expecting.” She sniffed appreciatively. “What’s cooking?”
“I’m glad to see the experience didn’t manage to spoil your appetite. I’m making tacos.” He turned back toward the kitchen, and Guinevere followed, tossing her purse into a hall closet en route. He set his tequila back down on the counter and picked up the knife. “So tell me all about it. How’s the big-time psychic investigation going?”
Guinevere sat on a kitchen stool, one leg swinging idly over the other as she sipped her wine and watched Zac prepare the taco fillings. “Well, for openers, she told me right away I didn’t just work as a temporary secretary. She knew I owned Camelot Services, Zac.”
“Is that so?” He was amused, but he kept a serious expression on his face as he grated cheese. “Anything else?”
“She knew about Carla. Knew she was beautiful and that she’s occasionally been a pain in the ass.”
“Uh-huh. What else?”
He thought Guinevere hesitated a long time before she continued. It was obvious she had been slightly disconcerted by her experience. “She mentioned a man in my life,” Guinevere said slowly. “I’m sure it was you. She seemed to know something about you.”
“What, exactly?” Zac asked sardonically as he picked up his glass of tequila.
“She mentioned danger around you, for one thing.”
“Must have guessed I was going to be slicing tomatoes tonight. I’ve been known to cut myself with a sharp knife while slicing tomatoes. Anything else?”
Again Guinevere paused. “No, not really.”
“How much did this little investigation set you back?”
“Forty bucks,” Guinevere said, grimacing.
“And, of course, if you want to know the good stuff, you’ll have to go back.”
“Precisely. Madame Zoltana exhausts herself easily.”
Zac leaned back against the counter, taking pity on her, she seemed so serious. “What’s the problem, Gwen? You knew she was a con artist.”
“Well, yes. But she did seem to know things, Zac. I was very careful about what I said around Gage and Watson. I don’t see how some of that information could have gotten back to her.”
“Sounds to me as if she just had someone take a look inside your purse.”
Guinevere’s eyes opened wide. “My purse!”
Zac’s mouth curved faintly. “Follow me.” He sauntered back into the hall, opened the closet, and removed Guinevere’s shoulder bag. He unzipped it and turned it upside down, emptying the contents onto a small table. Tossing aside the leather purse, he pushed his fingers idly through the motley collection.
“Here we go, a business card with
Camelot Services
stamped on it in nice big letters, and you listed as president. Your driver’s license, identifying you as Guinevere Jones, the same name as the president of Camelot Services. It also tells us several other things about you, including the fact that you are thirty years old.” He flicked
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