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have to go out every night? I have to—Okay ... I said okay! Eight. I'll be ready."
    When she hung up, Connor raised his brows. “Problem?"
    She rolled her eyes. “Nothing I can't handle, thank you very much.” She slid the box off the counter after dropping the rest of her letters into it. “If there's nothing else, I'm leaving.” He watched her walk to the door, making no move to help her open it, but she stopped and turned back. “I almost forgot.” She dropped the box. “I think someone was in here before me."
    He went on the alert. “Why?"
    "Because someone has tried to get into my personal closet.” She passed into the kitchen with him close behind.
    "How do you know?” He scanned the area and stopped on the second of two doors which she stood before holding a heavy duty lock. He crossed to join her and eased the lock from her fingers with the tips of his. Concentrating to block the sensations passing through him at their contact, he examined the lock. “Looks like someone has been working at it, trying to pick it. I can get the guys to lift prints. I'll check with my partner to be sure they didn't already see this.” He tried the doorknob. “What's in here, and why the special lock?"
    She grinned proudly, her chest swelling. “My mother's prized recipes. She kept them tucked away, because she felt someone might want to steal them. Her baked goods were insanely addictive. I can't come close even with access to her secrets.” She gasped. “Do you think someone was trying to get to the recipes, and Cammie caught them? Maybe that's why they killed her?"
    He took in the serious expression on her face. She believed that nonsense she had just spouted. This was no million dollar establishment with clients the world over. This was strictly mom and pop. The woman's livelihood, yes, but nothing more. “I doubt it."
    Her face fell. “Oh ... I had hoped to have this solved quickly. I'm in sort of a hurry."
    "You'll be cleared when the fingerprints are drawn from this lock. In fact, if you slip it off, I can take it into the office now. After that, the cleaning crew comes, and you're clear.” He smirked. “Unless you meant something else?” He thought of John, the opportunistic new boyfriend. Hopefully, Ms. Greene had more sense than to sleep with him to keep his support. Jealousy rose in him at that thought.
    She seemed about to tell him where he could stuff his assumptions, but changed her mind. Instead, she offered a tight smile. “I can't give it to you now. I don't have another lock."
    He crossed his arms. “You don't honestly believe someone wants to steal old cake recipes, do you?"
    "Prove they don't!"
    A chuckle rumbled up in his chest. He held out his hand, palm up. “Keys."
    "What?"
    "Your keys.” He wiggled his fingers. “I will not take the lock off until you bring me another lock, but neither will I allow you back in here until it's clear. So, you can give me the keys to this place, and gather your things. We're leaving."
    Slapping her hands on her hips, she bellowed, “You have no right—"
    "We've been over that, and I affirmed that I do.” He took her by the arm and shuffled her toward the kitchen door. “Let's go."
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Chapter Five
    A'isha scowled at her reflection in the mirror. Detective Connor Pierce was hot, and that set up some intense fantasies in her mind of doing much more, but his ordering her around had to go. For all she knew, he had settled on blaming her for the murder, and only needed the motive to push for an arrest warrant. She'd seen the cop shows on TV and knew that all he had to do was threaten John, and he would cave. Then she'd be in hot water. No, this investigation was up to her. Except for the fact that she had no leads and no access to whatever the police had access to. She couldn't run prints as Connor had said or force people to talk to her.
    "Then again, I could ask the neighbors if they saw anyone snooping around.” Her lips curled