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on your laptop, Simon.” What else could she say? He’d never denied the accusations in her presence before tonight.
    The light dimmed in his expression and he dropped his hand.
    “That’s all I needed to know.” Their momentary connection snapped and Simon walked away.
    Frozen, Alex watched his retreating form and wondered if she should’ve responded differently. He walked to the door with her nameplate and pushed it open. Examining her empty hands she realized he’d plucked the file from them without her noticing.
    “Hey!” She stalked after him.
    As she reached the door he tossed the folder on her desk and opened her bottom drawer. Grabbing her purse, he then threw it to her. She caught it one-handed.
    “How did you…?”
    “I remember a lot of things about you, Alexandra.” He preceded her out the door. “Not all of them bad. Some of them even useful.”
    His resolute strides had her trotting to catch up with him at the elevator. She paused at the doors. He turned a hard right toward the exit stairs. She studied the numbered floor display. The car was on forty-seven. They were on six.
    “I’m still in the West Village.” She practically ran to keep up with him on the stairs. “You’re uptown in the same building as David Tallis, right?”
    He didn’t answer, but she knew the world-famous musician originally hired Günter, and then Simon, to see to his security needs. From those humble beginnings, one of the most highly respected personal protection agencies had formed. Catering to the rich and famous. Until last year, the firm had grossed enough to take them international. Exactly what the duo had planned until a pack of journalists allegedly caught Faust and his girlfriend dabbling in illegal drug trade last year.
    Having observed Günter and Jenny up close this evening, the story didn’t fit. Of course the press bought it—the public loved a scandal. The question was, however, what this particular smoke screen had hidden. As they reached the pavement outside, Alex looked Günter over once more in an attempt to reconcile his background with his appearance.
    Günter paused as he opened her cab door, apparently feeling her perusal. “What?”
    “Nothing.” She shook her head.
    Piercing blue eyes, almost painful in their clarity and perception, took her measure and then he closed her cab door. Simon took the front passenger seat despite the driver’s protests. The ride from the government building to her apartment only took ten minutes. In the meantime, she had a view of Simon’s stiff shoulders, the curl of ginger hair at his nape, and the well-defined tendons along his neck. If she gave in to the temptation to run her fingers through his hair, she knew she’d feel the telltale hint of crisply dried gel he snuck into the strands to encourage the disarray.
    She forced her attention out the window until they pulled up to the curb in front of her brownstone apartment. Simon examined the front of her building as she paid the cabbie. At the entry, she unlocked and shouldered open the glass door. Three locks secured her apartment from the tiny foyer. She set about the tedious process of finding the correct key for each one.
    “You never moved?” Simon’s voice rumbled over her.
    “Obviously.” She spoke over her shoulder. “Could you please back up?”
    He examined the meager space behind him. “Back up to where? The potted cactus?”
    “There’s a thought.” His breath hit the back of her neck and she fumbled the keys.
    Warm fingers closed over hers. Simon gently pushed her aside, and to her surprise she let him. Dispatching with the other two locks with an efficient twist of his wrist, he opened the door and stepped inside. Lingering just past the threshold, he seemed to assess the space. At 450 square feet it was larger than many Village apartments she’d been in. A counter separated a tiny kitchen from the rest of the space. She’d placed a freestanding shoji screen between the bed and