Page 15 of Cause of Action

“Bye, kiddo.”

I stopped and turned around. “I’m thirty years old, Uncle Louie. I’m not a kid anymore.” A smirk crossed my lips.

“You’ll always be a kid to me.” He winked.

After hailing a cab, I climbed inside. As it weaved through traffic, the snowflakes drifted down, blanketing the streets and buildings in a soft layer of white. I sure as helldidn’t miss this when I was basking in the sun in the Caribbean.

After paying the driver, I stepped into Tavern on Green and looked around. Harlow raised her hand, alerting me to her table.

“Look at you and that nice tan,” she said. “I see my husband’s money was well spent.”

After ordering a gin and tonic, I pulled the file folder from my purse and slid it across the table.

“I will warn you that some of the pictures may be upsetting. I want you to be prepared.”

“I appreciate that, Morgan.” She opened the file and stared at the pictures of her cheating husband and the mistress, who was half his age.

“That bastard.” She shook her head.

“He also purchased a house for her in Pasadena. You’ll find the bill of sale and the deed in there.”

“He didn’t suspect you, right?” she asked.

“No. He didn’t.”

“Thank you for these.” She closed the folder. “By the time I’m finished, my husband will be ruined.” She finished her wine, handed me a thick envelope full of cash, and stood up. “I’m taking this file to my lawyer right now. Thank you again, Morgan.”

“You’re welcome, Harlow. I hope everything works out for you.”

“Believe me. I will come out of this marriage smelling like roses and much richer.” Her lips flashed a sinister smile. “Stay and finish your drink.” She walked away.

Signaling for the server, I ordered another drink. My phone rang. Pulling it from my purse, I stared at the number with the Los Angeles area code. Against my better judgment, I answered it.

“Morgan Ashley,” I answered.

“Miss Ashley, it’s Roman Hamilton.”

I swallowed hard as my belly twisted, hearing his sexy, deep voice. How the hell did he get my number?

“I’m sorry. Who is this?”

“Roman Hamilton. The man you had a good time with in Turks and Caicos. Don’t say you forgot who I am already because if that’s the case, my heart is broken.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Hamilton. Now I remember you. And somehow, I don’t think your heart is capable of being broken.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “You know you miss me.”

“I know that I don’t. How did you get my phone number?”

“It wasn’t easy. You’re a very hard woman to track down.”

“What do you want, Roman?”

“I need to hire you and your services for a case I’m working on. I’ll have my secretary book a flight for you and arrange hotel accommodations. I’d like you out here tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be possible, Roman.”

“You know what I’m doing right now?” he asked.

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