Private Eye Protector by Shirlee McCoy

Author:Shirlee McCoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-01-17T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

Mornings were supposed to bring fresh perspective, right?

So why didn’t Chance have any?

He scowled at the computer screen, rereading Sam Good-win’s email. Kane had dropped Rayne’s computer off with Sam the previous night, and he’d already examined it. His verdict: it had been cleaned.

Which begged the question: Who had done the cleaning?

Rayne?

Someone else?

If someone else, then why? When? How?

He poured a cup of coffee from the pot he’d made an hour before, set it on the kitchen table next to the computer. He might not have fresh perspective, but at least a good night’s sleep had given him renewed energy.

Footsteps sounded on stairs, and Chance braced himself for what he knew he’d feel when Rayne appeared. All the emotions that he’d promised himself he’d never give in to were back, stronger than they’d been with Jessica.

He couldn’t explain it.

Didn’t like it.

Wasn’t sure what it said about the relationship he’d had with his wife. Maybe only that there’d been something missing, some vital connection that he wouldn’t know existed if he hadn’t met Rayne.

She walked into the kitchen, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, her face scrubbed clean. No makeup covering the bruises, nothing to hide the circles beneath her eyes. Faded jeans and a well-worn T-shirt her only adornment, she walked with the graceful ease of a dancer.

And she took his breath away.

“You’re up early,” she said, her cheeks tinged with more pink than he’d seen since the accident.

“So are you.”

“Any sign of Sydney?”

“She popped out of her room about twenty minutes ago, grabbed coffee and went back in.”

“She’s very private.”

“It seems that way. Where’s Emma?”

“Still sound asleep. She woke a few times last night, so I’m not surprised. Poor baby. She really needs her routine back.”

“She’ll get it.”

“Eventually, but that could mean days or weeks or longer. I’m not sure how she’s going to handle that.”

“How about you? How will you handle it if this stretches out for weeks?”

“I’ll manage.” She offered a brittle smile. “What are you working on?”

“Going over a few emails. The computer whiz I told you about checked your computer. He said it’s been cleaned.”

“Like what you do if your computer has a virus?”

“Exactly. It’s been cleaned and rebuilt. Looks like it happened the day of your accident. Is it something you might have done?”

“I’ve done it a couple of times. My father taught me how when I was in college after my computer was infected with a virus.”

“So it’s within the realm of possibility that you cleaned and rebuilt it yourself?”

“Who else would? No one uses my computer except me.”

“Maybe someone who was concerned with what might be on your computer and decided to make sure whatever was there disappeared for good.”

“Who? I only communicate with friends and coworkers. And what good would it do to get rid of my emails? No one could have known I’d get amnesia. I should have been able to remember what the emails said whether I’d kept them or not.”

“That leaves one possibility.” He eyed her over the rim of his coffee cup, watching as his meaning sank in.

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