Mad About You

I'll be there, with a—" he paused and Kat's ears perked up. "With a female companion. Thank you."
    He hung up and Kat stepped away, feigning fascination with a banged-up coffee table in the window of an antiques shop.
    "A future project?"
    She turned and gave him a crooked smile. "Maybe my own business one of these days. A girl's got to pay the rent somehow."
    "So you won't be going back to Jellico's?"
    She shook her head slowly, suddenly melancholy for all the years that Jellico's had been her second home. "Even if Guy would take me back, it's time for me to move on."
    His brow creased. "Will you stay in the city?"
    "I'm not sure. I have a friend in Los Angeles who's been trying to get me to come work for him for years." She gestured to his phone. "Are you finished?"
    "Yes," he said, rolling his wrist to check his watch. "And we have an appointment in Chinatown in thirty minutes."
    He handed her a card with the name and address of the bakery where they were expected printed neatly. "With whom?"
    "Someone who will keep an eye out for the infamous letter."
    "Who?"
    James sighed. "I don't know his name, and for the love of God, don't ask him when we get there."
    Going to Chinatown to meet a stranger who moved in the underworld of the black market. It was all so, so... clandestine . Her heart pounded with excitement, her skin tingled with anticipation. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she said, "Let's go."
    "I'll hail a cab," he said, stepping to the curb.
    "James, you're in San Francisco. Van Ness is just a couple of blocks over—we'll take the trolley and still get there in plenty of time." His car was still at the police station.
    He winced. "A trolley really isn’t my style."
    "Fine," she said, pushing up her glasses. "I'll meet you there." Then she turned and started walking.
    "Kat!" he called, his voice flat with impatience. His second attempt sounded more cordial. "Kat, I need the address—I don't even know where this place is."
    She turned, walking backward and farther away from him with her hands raised, palms up. "Guess you're going to have to depend on me for a while, Agent Donovan."
    His mouth twisted in resignation, and he began walking after her. "Okay...uncle." He caught up to her in a few strides but his face remained stoic. Kat felt burdensome for preempting his trip to New York, and disappointed that his demeanor toward her had changed since this morning.
    Then she kicked herself mentally. What had she expected? That this morning’s tryst would mean something to him? When would she learn that men were simple creatures driven by base needs...regardless if they were American, European, or Martian. Take James for instance—strip away his impeccable clothes and his suave accent, and what was left?
    Kat winced. A gorgeous, naked, mute man with a big gun.
    So why did sex have to change things? Because it erased the thrill of the chase? Didn't the thrill of the catch count anymore?
    Biting back a sigh, she chalked up another one to experience. Right now, though, she needed this man's help. So she swallowed her wounded feelings, donned a cheerful smile, and played tour guide, indicating shops and other points of interest along the way. After a few minutes, James seemed to relax, asking questions about the local architecture. By the time they'd reached the trolley stop, he seemed to be in better spirits.
    "Sit or stand?" she asked, climbing onto a red car the size of a small school bus. Clear vinyl window covers had been rolled down in deference to the mild weather, funneling a salty breeze across the passengers' faces.
    "Stand," he said, wrapping one large hand around a pole. The driver rang a bell, then the car lurched into motion, heading directly downhill.
    "You have to lean out to get the best view," she yelled, showing him. The sensation of hurtling into the heart of the city with the wind blowing on her face was a thrill she never tired of, even though she'd experienced it dozens, perhaps hundreds of times since childhood. The car moved at a speed just slow enough to allow a passing glimpse of the stunning homes and store fronts on either side of the street, but fast enough to cause her stomach to flutter.
    To her surprise, James seemed to be enjoying it too. A smile creased his face as he leaned out precariously far, the wind tousling his thick dark hair and flapping his tailored sport coat. His head pivoted to take in their surroundings.
    Watching him, Kat's breath caught in her throat. He