Mad About You

morning at twelve-thirty?"
    His black eyebrows climbed. "Would you believe reflecting on our missed opportunity?"
    Her pulse vaulted. "Not for a second."
    Shrugging gallantly, he pulled a wry grin. "I decided to postpone my flight until today, so I checked into a hotel, watched some horrible TV interview shows, and tried to rest. I finally gave up and drove around the city for a while, then ended up back at the gallery. You know the rest."
    "So you were alone the entire time?" she asked, thinking it very likely he could have picked up someone in the hotel bar—an image which bothered her immensely.
    One corner of his mouth lifted. "Unfortunately, yes, I was alone."
    Faintly relieved, Kat crossed her arms triumphantly. "It seems your alibi is about as airtight as mine, Agent Donovan."
    He spread his hands wide. "But what motive would I have?"
    Kat angled her head at him. "Money?"
    "I don't need it."
    She thought about the remarks he'd made concerning the letter's owner, Lady Mercer. "Love?"
    James's brown eyes widened, then he shook his head with deliberate slowness. "Not in my vocabulary."
    Intrigued, Kat filed away his response. "Then maybe you stole the letter just for the thrill of it."
    He caught her gaze, then leaned forward on his stool until his face was only inches from hers.
    Kat froze, unable to look away, appalled at her thrashing heart. The man's senses were so superhuman, he could probably hear it.
    His eyes sparkled with warmth and humor, and his mouth was drawn back, revealing both dimples. His breath feathered across her chin three times before he smiled and said, "I'd rather get my thrills taking things which are freely given."
    Her pulse and the music from the stereo pounded in her ears. Her throat constricted, forcing her to swallow, painfully and audibly.
    He reached forward in slow motion until he touched her cheek with his warm forefinger. Kat's eyes closed involuntarily, her mind spun, her lips opened a fraction.
    "You," he whispered, "look good enough to eat."
    She opened her eyes as his finger swept a tiny semicircle against her skin.
    "Even without pizza sauce on your face." His grin widened, revealing white teeth. A splash of red sauce decorated his long finger.
    Embarrassment bolted through her and she pulled back, patting the counter for a napkin, then wiped her face as he laughed heartily.
    "You could have said something," she murmured.
    "I did," he said, his full-throated mirth surrounding her.
    At last, she gave in to the mood and smiled. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up. "Would you like another beer?"
    "No offense," he said, palming his empty bottle, "but American beer is a bit watered down for my tastes."
    "I have red wine." She looked around the jumbled kitchen. "Somewhere."
    "Thanks all the same," he said, standing up. "What can I do to help?"
    Kat started to protest, then relented. Telling herself she could use the help and ignoring the nagging feeling that she wanted to prolong his visit, she said, "I can't get everything back in its place tonight—you ought to see my bedroom."
    "If you insist," he said cheerfully, capturing her wrist and turning in the direction of her room.
    Her heart thudded in alarm—she was getting in over her head with this English Casanova. "B-But the kitchen would be a good place to start," she said, standing her ground. "All the dishes will have to be cleaned—God knows who handled them. Will you hand me plates to fill the dishwasher?"
    He sighed, but relented with a slight bow. "At your service."
    She opened the machine to find a few unwashed items, her eyes drawn immediately to two green coffee mugs in the top rack. "That's odd," she said, picking up one of them. "What?"
    "I didn't use these coffee cups."
    He frowned. "Someone did."
    "Do you suppose the policemen used them—perhaps for a drink out of the tap?" She lifted the cup and inhaled a deep, slightly acrid odor. "No, this one had coffee in it." Claiming the other one and turning it over, she announced, "This one too."
    "I doubt they would have made themselves coffee," James said. "What about your friend?"
    Kat glanced up in surprise. "Denise?"
    "Perhaps she had a guest over, after all."
    For the first time, Kat experienced misgivings about her girlfriend. "I'll call and ask her." She replaced the coffee mugs, only to have James reach past her with a handkerchief to retrieve them and set them on the counter.
    "Possible evidence," he explained. "And postpone ringing her until I can do