Page 27 of Fierce-Zander

When he walked out of his office into the lobby, he saw Regan Philes through the glass window standing there with a big bag of food in her hands.

He unlocked the door. “Moonlighting as a delivery person?”

“No,” she said. “I think this might be yours. It says PI on it and it was in front of my doorway when I was getting ready to leave. It at least feels warm so I hope it wasn’t there that long.”

“Come in,” he said. “Sorry about that. It should have been here fifteen minutes ago. They know me there.”

He always said Conway, but once they realized what he did for a living, they just put PI on his order. Stupid if it wasn’t the same delivery person who obviously didn’t know what it stood for. Must be they thought the P was for Philes.

“Guess that means you order a lot. Not just frequently but a lot of food. Unless you’re having a party.”

He took the bag out of her hand. “I didn’t know what I wanted and said screw it and got three things. It makes good leftovers and I’m here more than I’m home.”

“It feels that way for me too.”

“I’ve noticed that,” he said.

Sometimes when he left at night he’d see the light on under her door even though the front office was locked.

He knew she had a security system just like he had.

“The curse of owning a business,” she said.

“It is,” he said. “I try to get my parents to understand that, but you’d think they’d get it with their jobs.”

Which he’d told her about before and wasn’t sure why he had when he didn’t normally volunteer that much about himself.

“Sounds like me with my parents,” she said. “Or at least my employee. I got the lecture yesterday from Miles that I had no life.”

He laughed. “That might be worse than getting it from your parents. Since you’re working late too I’m going to assume you didn’t have dinner. Want to join me?”

“You’re obviously here because you’ve got work to do,” she said.

“So?” he said. “Only a stupid man would put work before Chinese takeout with a pretty neighbor.”

She flipped her hair off her shoulder playfully. “Oh, how could I turn down such a fabulous offer?”

That might have been the first time he’d seen her react like that. He liked it.

Liked it a lot.

Maybe he could get her to open up some more.

Just like he told Betsy. Not shy, but guarded. Though the shield seems to have been lowered.

“Then come on in,” he said. “I’ve got a table in my other office. My father is more organized than me and we can eat there.”

“Your father?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, flipping the light on in the office and moving over to the table that he used as a conference room that his father was now going to use as a work space a few times a week.

“I thought he was retired.”

“He is, but over the weekend he was complaining he was bored. Actually, my mother first told me my father was. Then when I was at their house, my father made a comment about promising my mother he’d retire at fifty-five so he didn’t worry her anymore.”

“So guilt on her end and relief at the same time?”

“Something like that,” he said. “She put the bug in my ear to see if I had work for him, but I wasn’t going to ask my father and have him feel as if he was obligated. I hate being played.”

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