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the covers, she stayed up late studying the black book.
    The bright morning sunlight streaming in her bedroom window told Emily she’d better drag herself out of bed and get ready for Camille’s brunch or she’d be late and have to make her apologies. She hated making apologies.
    A quick shower, a dollop of hair mousse, a few blasts of hot air on her loosely tousled curls, and a dab of make-up was all she would need and she’d almost be ready to head out the door. She chose a deep turquoise top, which her friends all said played up her blue-green eyes and dark blonde hair, and her black jeans which she knew hugged her tush and legs in just the right places.
    Was she trying to impress the guest of honor? No. Looking good simply boosted her self-confidence and lifted her spirits, although making a good impression in front of Peter would make Camille happy.
    She thought of Colin and smiled, wishing he was going to the brunch with her. Catching her reflection in the full-length mirror, she stopped and did a once over, thinking how pleased Colin would be with what he saw.
    Autumn was just around the corner, making the morning air crisp and cool. Emily pulled on her short black-leather boots, with just enough spiked heel to make her legs look longer. She stuck her gun, her phone, and the little black book in her large leather purse, slung it over her shoulder, and she was out the door.
    ~*~
    “Knock, knock,” Emily called out as she walked through Camille and Jonathan’s front door. She could hear music and conversation coming from the open kitchen and family room at the rear of the house.
    “We’re back here!” she heard Camille holler.
    Isabel and Alex had already arrived. Isabel hugged her as she entered the open great room area. Alex and Jonathan were sitting on the couches, deep in conversation with Peter. Camille fluttered about the kitchen, putting the last minute touches on the delicious spread she had prepared.
    After Isabel greeted her, Emily walked over to Camille at the stove, gave her a sideways hug, and asked if there was anything she could do to help.
    “Oh, you haven’t met my brother yet. Here, let me introduce you, then you can help me cut up the fruit and take the muffins out when the buzzer goes off.” She grabbed Emily by the hand and led her over to where the men were seated.
    “Peter MacKenzie,” Camille said, which caused her brother to rise to his feet, “this is my friend, Emily.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, Peter MacKenzie.” Emily stuck out her hand, expecting to shake his. Rather, he took her hand, lifted it to his lips and gave it a light kiss. She wanted to draw it back, but for fear she would offend him, she let him hold it a moment until he released it.
    “The pleasure is all mine,” he said in a deep voice, perfect for television.
    Peter looked down at her with his brilliant blue eyes—just like his sister’s. He even had red hair, like Camille did, but his was more of a deep auburn. He was tall and lean, six three or four, she guessed, with sparkling white teeth that filled out a perfect smile. “Would you like to sit with us?” he asked, gesturing toward the couch he had been sitting on.
    “Thanks, but no, I promised Camille I’d help her in the kitchen.”
    “Well, let’s talk later. My sister tells me you’re a private investigator, and I find that fascinating.”
    The timer on the oven beeped loudly, alerting Camille the muffins were ready to come out.
    “We’d better get back and tend to the food so we can eat.” Camille hooked her arm through Emily’s and walked her back to the kitchen area.
    Within minutes Camille announced the food was ready. Spread across the long breakfast bar there were platters of two kinds of quiche, a sausage frittata, cinnamon-swirl french toast, thick slices of bacon, crispy hash browns, blueberry muffins, and fruit compote with strawberry whip. Stacked at the end were the plates, napkins, and silverware.
    “Grab a plate and serve