The Private Eye

injuries only seemed to underscore the sensual danger the man projected.
    “Hello, Josh.” Maggie tried for the light, sparring tone that had characterized so much of their conversation till now. “I suppose you tracked me down to see about your home-cooked breakfast?”
    He smiled. “Breakfast can wait. I wanted to talk to you, but you didn't come downstairs to the kitchen the way you usually do.”
    “1 felt like a walk on the beach this morning.”
    Josh nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.” He took his right hand out of the pocket of his jacket and held it out for her.
    Maggie hesitated and then slipped her hand into his. His fingers curled warmly around her own. She couldn't think of anything to say as they started along the beach. It was one of the few times in her life that she had actually felt tongue-tied.
    “It's okay, you know,” Josh said after a bit.
    She looked up quickly. “What is?”
    “You don't have to be nervous, Maggie. I'm not going to pounce on you.”
    “I didn't think you were,” she retorted.
    “Yes, you did. But I told you last night I'll give you time, and I meant it.”
    She drew a deep breath. “1 think it's only fair to tell you that I don't really want a brief affair with you or anyone else, Josh. I've never gone in for that sort of thing. I don't intend to start now. Not even with you.”
    “I know.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I'm not into brief affairs or one-night stands, either. Messy and unsatisfying.”
    “So, what does that leave?” she asked carefully.
    His mouth curved almost whimsically. “It leaves you and me and something else.”
    “Josh,” she began in a little rush before she lost her nerve, “this probably isn't a good idea. You and me, that is. I mean, I am a client and you do work for me and I live out here on the coast and you live in Seattle and we're really very different people when you think about it—”
    “Are we?”
    “Well, yes,” she said helplessly.
    “I don't think so. I think we've got a lot in common. I knew it that first night. You just need time to realize it.”
    “Josh, please—”
    “Have dinner with me tonight, Maggie.”
    “What?”
    “Have dinner with me. In town. A real date.”
    “Oh.”
    He grinned fleetingly. “Is that an answer?”
    “No.”
    “Is that an answer? Come on, Maggie. Take a chance.”
    She scowled. “All right. Josh. I'll have dinner with you. But you probably shouldn't read too much into it.”
    “You can't hold it against me if I look for a few clues. It's instinctive, you know? I'm a trained investigator.”
    She smiled unwillingly. “You're impossible, that's what you are.”
    “I'll be on my best behavior. After all, I am fully aware of the fact that I can be replaced at any moment , by Clay O'Connor,”
    Maggie started to laugh. She couldn't help it.
    “What's so damn funny?” Josh demanded.
    “The thought of you selling real estate. It boggles the mind.”

    AT MIDMORNING A KNOCK on the kitchen door caused Maggie to put down the vegetables shehad been peeling for soup. She peeked through the curtains and saw a familiar beat-up old pickup parked in the driveway behind the manor. She smiled as she opened the door for Dwight Wilcox, her faithful handyman.
    “Hi, Dwight. How are you this morning?” Maggie wiped her hands on her apron.
    Dwight ducked his head by way of greeting and gave her his customary morose expression.
    Maggie had never seen Dwight display any other emotion. Today he appeared completely oblivious to the cold, driving rain that was pounding down around him.
    He wasn't very old—perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six—but it was clear that Dwight had already found the world sadly wanting. Maggie sometimes wondered if he had ever, in his entire life, been happy.
    Dwight was garbed in his handyman's uniform, which consisted of a peaked cap over his unkempt brown hair, a pair of twill pants and a shirt in a dull shade of green. He also had on his thick-soled boots and, as usual, he was chewing gum.
    “Mornin'.” Dwight was a no-nonsense speaker. Every word was clipped short and there were no extras. “On my way into town, Figured I'd see if you wanted that furnace checked. You said something about it the other day, I brung my tools.” He hoisted the toolbox he was holding in his right hand.
    “Great.” Maggie stepped back to let him enter the kitchen. “I'm glad to see you. I don't want to take any chances on the heating system going down again. Not at this time of