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yakking non stop for the past ten minutes about gardening, Bernie’s second passion after computers.
    She’d laughed at Bernie’s gardening jokes in that soft, smoky voice that seemed to make every one of Adam’s nerve endings stand at attention. She’d asked Bernie all about Blue Knights as if Adam wasn’t even present, she’d chatted a bit about the work she did for Delilah, and all in all, revealed not one personal detail about herself. She was maybe one of the most appealing, awkward, ingenuous women Adam had ever come across—or the best operative he’d ever met.
    Her slender body seemed at odds with itself. She moved like a teen who’s grown too fast and hasn’t quite learned how to work the machinery. Adam had to remind himself that her driver’s license had stated she was thirty years old. She seemed absurdly young and gauche.
    She’d knocked a pillow off the couch, bent to pick it up and banged her hip on the low table, jogging it and slopping water from a bowl of fresh flowers all over the glass surface. She’d absentmindedly taken a handful of her skirt and mopped up the spill, not missing a beat in her conversationwith Bernie about fertilizers. Then she’d sat back down and lifted and lowered, lifted and lowered the wet hem of skirt in an effort to dry it.
    Adam had felt short of breath. He’d had to tear his eyes away from the flash of pale thigh, irritated beyond measure at his body’s reaction to her.
    â€œHere we are. I forgot to ask if you both take cream and sugar.” She walked slowly into the room, balancing a silver tray and frowning down at it like a child entrusted to serve the grown-ups.
    â€œNope, we both drink it— Watch out—” Bernie’s warning was accompanied by a hasty lurch out of his chair in an effort to keep her from falling headlong over a footstool.
    She must have kicked it out of the way at the last possible moment, because it sailed across the room with considerable force and landed near Adam. She had to have played rugby at some point to have put that much steam behind the damned thing.
    Adam stared at it without moving and then, one eyebrow raised, returned his attention to Sameh. She was intent on her task. She managed to set the tray down without doing more than slopping some of the tea out of the pot. She poured, then smiled at Bernie and set his cup on the low table beside his chair, and handed Adam a cup and saucer. A rivulet of hot liquid dribbled off the saucer and down onto his trousers. Adam ignored it.
    Sameh looked down at the stain and then at him, a tiny frown contracting the straight line of her dark eyebrows. Once again, he stared deep into those superb blue eyes, wondering if it was unbelievable guile or true innocence he saw behind the thick lashes.
    â€œSorry,” she murmured. She snatched a cotton napkin from the tray, leaned over and blotted clumsily at his pant leg. The action sent bolts of sexual awareness through him.She gave his leg one final pat, turned away and sat down on the sofa, curling her legs beneath her and cradling the cup she’d chosen for herself between her hands. Adam struggled to maintain his composure as white heat coursed through his groin.
    â€œYou lived in L.A. long, Ms. Smith?” Adam kept his face impassive, his tone neutral. It took some doing, because his heart was still beating a little faster than usual, but if Bernie wanted him to participate, he’d at least ask questions that might lead somewhere, instead of playing friends and neighbors.
    She gave him a steady look, and then shook her head. “Hardly any time at all. I haven’t had a chance to really explore the city yet, either. There was rather a lot of catching up to do with Ms. McDonell’s notes.”
    â€œWhere were you from originally?” Adam caught Bernie’s warning glance and ignored it. If this was starting to sound like an interrogation, too