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let him think she was a bubblehead. Being blond had its advantages, but there were disadvantages, too. Sophie adjusted her push-up bra, smoothed her satin blouse, and slid out. After quickly dropping a few quarters into the meter, she hurried to the entrance.
    This must work out , Sophie told herself, and put her hand on the door. It buzzed, startling her, and she pulled it open.
    The office was cool after the humidity outside. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she took in everything at once: the mismatched chairs, the worn sofa, the black metal desk. A woman stood behind it, staring at her.
    “May I help you?” she asked.
    “I’m here to see Alex Lovell.”
    “About?”
    “I have an important matter to discuss with him.”
    The woman came around the desk and stood in front of Sophie. She had curly dark hair that fell to her shoulders, brown eyes, and no makeup. Good cheekbones, though. Nice lips, too, although she didn’t look like the collagen type.
    Sophie let her gaze flick down to the woman’s faded jeans. Not much of a dress code here, but then she’d heard that about Austin.
    “Is he in?” Sophie asked.
    The receptionist tipped her head to the side and gazed up at her. “Do I know you from someplace?”
    Sophie smiled. “It’s possible. Have you been to the Velvet Note?”
    The woman tucked her hands into her back pockets. “You’re the singer. I remember you now.”
    This was going better than she’d hope. Maybe this woman would put in a good word for her.
    “I’m Sophie Barrett,” she said, extending her hand.
    “Alex Lovell.” She gave Sophie’s hand a firm shake. “What did you want to talk about?”
    “Uh…” She glanced around, flustered. Was this a joke? Mitch had said he wanted to kill Alex Lovell. He’d said he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands.
    He had said “him,” hadn’t he?
    “You’re Alex Lovell?”
    “I am.”
    “I’m sorry, I—”
    “Did you need something?” The woman glanced at her watch. “Because I’m on my way out, actually. I’ve got to be somewhere, and I’m already running late.”
    Panic surged through her. “I need a job,” she blurted.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I lost my job because of Alex Lovell. You . And I need a place to work now.”
    And that had come out all wrong. Sophie closed her eyes and clasped her hands together. Desperation was not attractive.
    When she opened her eyes again, Alex had her arms folded over her chest and was watching her with a chilly expression.
    Sophie took a deep breath. “Let me start over.”
    “Please do.”
    “Mitch Kohl used to be my boss. After you came to… visit him last month, he was arrested. Put in jail .” Sophie paused for emphasis.
    “That’s generally what happens when people get arrested. You want to explain how that means I owe you a job?”
    “I worked at Mitch’s club. It’s closed down now because he can’t make the rent.”
    “Mitch Kohl’s a lying deadbeat who owes twenty-two months’ back child support. He’s got three kids living in Austin. Did you know that?”
    Sophie stepped back, away from the harsh tone. “I wasn’t aware—”
    “The Velvet Note’s in Dallas, anyway. What are you doing down here?”
    “I’m here for the music,” Sophie said, before she could censor herself. But maybe honesty was her best strategy. This woman wasn’t going to be swayed by cleavage and guilt. “I’m trying to get my singing career started. Austin’s got a big music scene.”
    “And you figured you’d sweet-talk me into letting you work for me.”
    “I guess so.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Well.” Sophie straightened her shoulders. “I have a minor in photography.”
    Alex’s eyebrows arched.
    “I figure you take a lot of pictures? Of, you know, people cheating on their wives? Stuff like that?”
    “Actually, most of my clients are insurance companies,” she said. “And I take my own pictures. What else you got?”
    Sophie darted her gaze around the office. She