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father.”
    Parker set the cup down and gave her a look free of guile. It did more to arouse her awareness of him as a man than all the charming rascal smiles in the world heaped together.
    “If you’re wrong, all I’ve lost is time. But if you’re right, the girl’s in trouble. I have a special interest in abduction cases, Caron. If I can, I have to help.”
    Have to, not want to help. Someone he loved had been abducted. The flash of certainty stayed with her and strengthened. She bit her lip to keep from asking who. It wasn’t any of her business; she had no right to pry. But Parker still wasn’t playing straight with her, and dishonesty rankled her more than any other vice known to man.
    She gave him a steady look. “I have imaged the girl.”
    “So you’ve said.” His gaze was equally steady.
    Pulling no punches.   She’d give him props for that.   He wasn’t convinced she was right, but he wasn’t positive she was wrong, either. It appeared they had stepped onto common ground. They were grant ing each other the benefit of doubt.
    He again drank from his cup, then motioned to the waitress for a refill.
    The woman nearly knocked herself out getting over to Parker fast enough with the coffeepot. Parker held up his cup and thanked the waitress with another drop-dead smile. Her healthy chest heaved with her indrawn breath. Simms had a definite effect on women. Caron had to give him that.
    He watched the waitress leave. “Is the guy you were talking to at the house your kidnapper?”
    Caron sputtered, nearly spraying out coffee. She’d thought she was alone outside the sagging house; she hadn’t sensed Parker there. “What man?”
    “Forty-five or so. Five-ten or eleven. Black hair, going gray. A slob.” Rubbing the sugar dispenser with his thumb, Parker lifted a black brow. “Shall I go on?”
    “No.” Caron gripped the vinyl seat beneath her and tried to regroup. It was hard to accept that she hadn’t known it, but Parker had been there, all right. He’d described the guy at the sagging house, the first man Caron had imaged, perfectly.
    “I think, for the girl’s sake, we should try to work to gether, Caron. Two heads are better than one—especially when a third head is at stake.”
    A third head was at stake. A helpless child’s. Caron flinched. She didn’t trust Parker Simms. But she didn’t trust herself to go it alone, either. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. It was the child who would suffer. Caron had to take every precaution to ensure that the little girl didn’t end up like Sarah. Simms was a pro. The best, Sandy had said. One of the good guys. Could she afford to refuse? Could the little girl afford for Caron to refuse?
    “So, do we give it a shot?” His gaze grew intense. “At least see if two loners can work together?”
    Once again, fate had intervened. The risks were too high; she had no choice. And she hoped she’d have no regrets. “We give it a shot.”
    Relieved, Parker slid down in the booth. For the first time since Caron Chalmers had walked over to him, the tension knotting his insides had loosened.
    The woman had slam-dunked him at Sandy’s office, and he still hadn’t recovered. He’d had her under surveillance for a year, but until today he’d never seen her up close. She was tiny, maybe five-seven, and delicate-boned. There was something about her, too, that got under his skin, and he couldn’t shake it loose. She seemed vulnerable, and pain hid in the shadows in her eyes. He hadn’t expected any of that.
    What had he expected? Cold and calculating? Brazen and coming on to him? He knew better than that, too. In the year he’d watched her, she’d been the model of deco rum, a prim and proper schoolteacher who played leap frog with her students and coached the math club. Oh, she’d had dates, but only a few, and never twice with the same guy. Smart, considering her sideline. She couldn’t risk letting anyone get too close. They might see her for what