Page 141 of A Dead End Wedding

Or maybe it was.

I whipped around and held up a hand to stop him from following me inside. "Wait one minute, Brody. I want the truth right now. Are you stalking me for some nefarious purpose?"

He blinked, then grinned that slow, dangerous grin that made my brain cells go all mushy. "I've never known anybody who used the word 'nefarious' in conversation before, Vaughn. Maybe I have a fetish for women with big vocabularies."

I rolled my eyes, but moved away from the door and headed for the kitchen. "Well, we know it's not my big bazumbas," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. You can put the food down here, and I'll get out my lovely fine dining china." I opened the nearest cupboard and grabbed the paper plates, trying not to notice how great he looked in jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

Trying really, really hard not to notice.

Jake looked around the house, then down at the paper plates, as he started opening the bags. "I've been meaning to ask you, where is your furniture, Vaughn? Or is that some kind of deep, dark secret?"

"No, no secret," I said, sighing. "Well, the only secret is where in the heck my furniture is these days."

He quirked an eyebrow at me. So I told him the story of my happy-go-lucky nepotist, bender-going, furniture-thief driver.

When I was done, he whistled softly. "You're a magnet, aren't you? A tall, beautiful trouble magnet."

I scooped a big pile of fried rice on my plate carefully, then glared at him. "It's not my fault trouble . . . did you say beautiful?"

"Maybe not with your mouth hanging open like that."

I resisted the urge to stab him with his own chopsticks and carried my plate over to the card table. "I only have water and Diet Coke in the fridge, but help yourself."

He opened the other bag. "I brought beer. Want one?"

I started to say no, then stopped. "Why not? If ever a week deserved a beer, it would be this one."

He opened the bottles and brought them to the table, and we made quick work of the food, not talking much. By the time we'd cracked open our fortune cookies, I was stuffed.

"Ha! 'Nothing can keep you from reaching your goals.' Yeah, right. This week, everything is keeping me from reaching my goals," I said.

"One battle isn't the war, Vaughn." Jake looked at his own fortune and smiled, but didn't read it to me.

"Hey! All fortunes must be read out loud, Brody," I said, snatching the piece of paper. I read it and groaned.

"Trouble will arrive in the shape of a woman," he said. "Seems pretty apt to me, even if I am a nefarious stalker."

"That's not exactly what I said. Anyway, thanks for the food."

"You're welcome," he said. "Now, how about we talk?"

"About what?" My DANGER, DANGER alert shifted into high gear.

"About your client, Mrs. Zivkovich, and how her son-in-law cleaned out her savings account today," he said.

I drained the rest of my beer before answering, frantically trying to remember if I'd ever mentioned Mrs. Z to him.

I hadn't.

Putting the bottle down on the table between us, but near enough so I could grab it if I needed a weapon, I still said nothing. I stared at him in silence.

He stared back.

Great. Now you think you can out stare a Navy SEAL. They probably take classes in the psychology of eye contact, you moron.

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