mine back at them. Aren’t they going to talk to me?”
“I’m at the station. I’m a little concerned about crime out there in Urbana.”
She searched through her closet, the phone caught in the curve of her shoulder. “How did you find out the fire was arson already? I barely found out myself.”
“We have ways. Actually, I just got off the phone with the investigator in charge.”
“Piasecki?” Natalie tossed a black dinner dress on her bed. “You talked to him?”
“Ten minutes ago. It sounds like you’re in good hands, Nat.”
“Not if I can help it,” she muttered.
“What?”
“He appears to know his job,” she said calmly. “Though his methods lack a certain style.”
“Arson’s a dirty business. And a dangerous one. I’m worried about you, pal.”
“Don’t be. You’re the cop, remember.” She struggled out of her jacket, promising herself she’d hang it up before she left. “I’m the CEO in the ivory tower.”
“I’ve never known you to stay there. I want you to keep me up-to-date on the investigation.”
“I can do that.” She wiggled out of her skirt, and guiltily left it pooled on the floor. “And tell Mom and Dad, if you talk to them before I do, that things are under control. I won’t bore you with all the business data—”
“I appreciate that.”
She grinned. Boyd had no patience with ledgers or bar graphs. “But I’m about to put another very colorful feather in the Fletcher Industries cap.”
“With underwear.”
“Lingerie, darling.” A little breathless, she fastened on a strapless black bra. “You can buy underwear at a drugstore.”
“Right. Well, I can tell you on a personal level, Cilla and I have both thoroughly enjoyed the samples you sent out. I particularly liked the little red thing with the tiny hearts.”
“I thought you would.” She stepped into the dress, tugged it up to her hips. “With Valentine’s Day coming up, you should think about ordering her the matching peignoir.”
“Put it on my tab. Take care of yourself, Nat.”
“I intend to. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you next month. I’m going to scout out locations in Denver.”
“Your room’s ready for you anytime. And so are we. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
She hung up by dropping the phone on the bed, freeing herself to zip the dress into place. Not exactly a sedate number, she mused, turning toward the mirror. Not with the way it draped off the shoulders and veed down over the curve of the breasts.
Repressed? She shook back her hair. This ought to show him.
The phone rang again, making her swear in disgust. She ignored the first ring and picked up her brush. By the third, she’d given up and pounced on the phone.
“Hello?”
Just breathing, quick, and a faint chuckle.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
“Midnight.”
“What?” Distracted, she carried the phone to the dresser to select the right jewelry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Midnight. Witching hour. Wait and see.”
When the phone clicked, she disconnected, set it down with a shake of her head. Cranks.
“Use the answering machine, Natalie,” she ordered herself. “That’s what it’s there for.”
A glance at her watch had her swearing again. She forgot the call as she went into grooming overdrive. She absolutely refused to be late.
Chapter 4
Natalie arrived at Chez Robert precisely at eight. The four-star French restaurant, with its floral walls and candlelit corners, had been a favorite of hers since she relocated to Urbana. Just stepping inside put her at ease. She had no more than checked her coat when she was greeted enthusiastically by the maître d’.
He kissed her hand with a flourish and beamed. “Ah, Mademoiselle Fletcher … a pleasure, as always. I didn’t know you were dining with us this evening.”
“I’m meeting a companion, André. A Mr. Piasecki.”
“Pi …” Brows knit, André scanned his reservation book while he mentally
“I’m at the station. I’m a little concerned about crime out there in Urbana.”
She searched through her closet, the phone caught in the curve of her shoulder. “How did you find out the fire was arson already? I barely found out myself.”
“We have ways. Actually, I just got off the phone with the investigator in charge.”
“Piasecki?” Natalie tossed a black dinner dress on her bed. “You talked to him?”
“Ten minutes ago. It sounds like you’re in good hands, Nat.”
“Not if I can help it,” she muttered.
“What?”
“He appears to know his job,” she said calmly. “Though his methods lack a certain style.”
“Arson’s a dirty business. And a dangerous one. I’m worried about you, pal.”
“Don’t be. You’re the cop, remember.” She struggled out of her jacket, promising herself she’d hang it up before she left. “I’m the CEO in the ivory tower.”
“I’ve never known you to stay there. I want you to keep me up-to-date on the investigation.”
“I can do that.” She wiggled out of her skirt, and guiltily left it pooled on the floor. “And tell Mom and Dad, if you talk to them before I do, that things are under control. I won’t bore you with all the business data—”
“I appreciate that.”
She grinned. Boyd had no patience with ledgers or bar graphs. “But I’m about to put another very colorful feather in the Fletcher Industries cap.”
“With underwear.”
“Lingerie, darling.” A little breathless, she fastened on a strapless black bra. “You can buy underwear at a drugstore.”
“Right. Well, I can tell you on a personal level, Cilla and I have both thoroughly enjoyed the samples you sent out. I particularly liked the little red thing with the tiny hearts.”
“I thought you would.” She stepped into the dress, tugged it up to her hips. “With Valentine’s Day coming up, you should think about ordering her the matching peignoir.”
“Put it on my tab. Take care of yourself, Nat.”
“I intend to. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you next month. I’m going to scout out locations in Denver.”
“Your room’s ready for you anytime. And so are we. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
She hung up by dropping the phone on the bed, freeing herself to zip the dress into place. Not exactly a sedate number, she mused, turning toward the mirror. Not with the way it draped off the shoulders and veed down over the curve of the breasts.
Repressed? She shook back her hair. This ought to show him.
The phone rang again, making her swear in disgust. She ignored the first ring and picked up her brush. By the third, she’d given up and pounced on the phone.
“Hello?”
Just breathing, quick, and a faint chuckle.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
“Midnight.”
“What?” Distracted, she carried the phone to the dresser to select the right jewelry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“Midnight. Witching hour. Wait and see.”
When the phone clicked, she disconnected, set it down with a shake of her head. Cranks.
“Use the answering machine, Natalie,” she ordered herself. “That’s what it’s there for.”
A glance at her watch had her swearing again. She forgot the call as she went into grooming overdrive. She absolutely refused to be late.
Chapter 4
Natalie arrived at Chez Robert precisely at eight. The four-star French restaurant, with its floral walls and candlelit corners, had been a favorite of hers since she relocated to Urbana. Just stepping inside put her at ease. She had no more than checked her coat when she was greeted enthusiastically by the maître d’.
He kissed her hand with a flourish and beamed. “Ah, Mademoiselle Fletcher … a pleasure, as always. I didn’t know you were dining with us this evening.”
“I’m meeting a companion, André. A Mr. Piasecki.”
“Pi …” Brows knit, André scanned his reservation book while he mentally
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