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confidentiality."
    "Good." She relaxed a little.
    "But I like to know as much as possible about what I'm getting into before I start an
    investigation."
    It was her turn to raise her brows. "I'm here because I was under the impression that one
    consults a private investigator when one does not wish to explain all the reasons why one
    needs that particular type of professional assistance."
    His hard mouth quirked a little. "Is that right?"
    She was simmering now, but she felt trapped by financial considerations and the tight time
    frame. She needed answers and she needed them before Friday. "Do you want this job or not,
    Mr. Truax?"
    "I want it. Sorry, if the questions bother you, but I'm just gathering information. It's what I
    do, Zoe."
    "All I want is for you to locate Mrs. Jennifer Mason. How hard can that be for a professional
    investigator? Surely it's just a matter of checking to see if she's using her credit cards or
    checkbook, right? Any high school kid could probably do it."
    "Yeah. Lately I've started to worry a lot about the competition from high school kids."
    Now she knew for certain that he was mocking her. She shoved herself halfway up out of the
    chair. It wasn't easy disengaging herself from the mouth of the beast.
    "If you feel that the job is beyond your abilities," she said grimly, "or that you can't do it
    without additional information, just say so and I'll go find myself a bright high school kid."
    "Sit down." He paused. "Please."
    It was not an order, not exactly. How could it be? It wasn't as though he could force her to
    sit back down in the big chair. The problem was that she had been bluffing, and he had
    guessed as much.
    She sat. "Do you or do you not intend to investigate?"
    "I'll find Mrs. Jennifer Mason for you. But I'd better make one thing clear. I'm not going to give
    you any contact information unless and until I'm sure she wants you to know where she is.
    Understood?"
    That caught her off guard. "Wait a second. Do you think I want to know her current address
    so that I can do something to her?"
    "It happens."
    She shuddered. "Yes, I suppose it does. Well, rest assured, I don't care where she lives. I
    have no intention of contacting her."
    "You just want to know that she's out of Davis Mason's life, is that it?"
    He wasn't going to let it go until she came up with a convincing reason for wanting to check
    on the whereabouts of Jennifer Mason. Maybe the easiest way to handle this was to take the
    first excuse he had offered.
    "All right," she said, trying to sound resigned. "As you suggested, this is a personal matter for
    me. Davis is a client but he is also a successful, intelligent, attractive man, and he seems
    interested in me, if you know what I mean."
    "Uh-huh. I know what you mean."
    She glared, suspicious of his tone, but he just sat there, waiting. She recognized the tactic.
    Dr. McAlistair, her therapist at Xanadu had employed it. The interrogation technique was
    based on the fact that most people were uncomfortable with silence, got nervous, and tended
    to start talking to fill the vacuum.
    The realization that Truax was attempting to use the same approach as McAlistair pissed her
    off. She reminded herself that it was nothing personal in Truax's case. He just wanted
    answers.
    "As I told you, Davis led me to believe that he's getting divorced. I'd like to be sure that he's
    genuinely free, or about to become free, to engage in another, uh, serious, committed
    relationship."
    Ethan did not move, but his eyes never left her face. "Okay."
    She was not sure how to take that. "Okay? You mean you'll get busy and investigate now?"
    "No."
    "That does it, I've had enough." She did get out of the chair this time. All the way out. "I've
    asked you to do a simple search and I've given you my reason, even though it was extremely
    personal and I resent the probe into my private life. What more can you possibly want?"
    "An advance for two hours' worth of my time. Credit card, check, or money