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panels on either side of the door. Tall, broad-shouldered and wearing an ancient football jacket from one of the Catholic high schools in Chicago, Rick Sanchez was unmistakable.
    “Oh, boy,” she muttered under her breath.
    “Dana, who is it?” Kate whispered, slipping up behind her.
    “Rick Sanchez.”
    “ Oh, boy, is right. Has he brought the police with him?”
    “I doubt that Mr. Sanchez is any fonder of the police than I am at the moment.”
    “Were you counting on that when you broke into the Yo, Amigo headquarters last night?”
    “No, I was counting on not getting caught,” Dana said, keeping a wary eye on the man outside.
    He seemed to be growing more agitated by the minute. When he turned and leaned on the doorbell, filling the house with the squealing sound, she decided there was no point in postponing the inevitable. He was here to see her and he’d probably break down the door, if he had to. She was in no position, at the moment, to complain about a little breaking and entering on his part.
    “Okay, okay, I’m coming,” she shouted as she unlocked the door. When it was open, she glared at him and said, “Mr. Sanchez, you really need to work on your patience.”
    A twinkle lit his brown eyes, softening his hard, unyielding expression. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”
    Standing squarely in the doorway, Dana refused to concede the point. “Why are you here?”
    “To talk.”
    “I’d say we both made our positions completely clear last night. Anything we said today would be a waste of breath.”
    “Then I guess you haven’t seen the error of your ways,” he said with exaggerated regret. “Too bad. I was hoping this was going to be easy.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Hello again, Mrs. Jefferson. Good to see you.”
    Dana shot a warning look at Kate, whose love life was such that a potent man like Rick Sanchez might be able to charm her with little more than a smile. “Don’t think you can use my friend to get to me.”
    “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m an up-front kind of guy. My friends say I’m direct.”
    “And your enemies?”
    “They say quite a lot of things about me,” he conceded.
    With his hands shoved in his pockets and his hair tousled by the wind, he had a look of pure innocence about him. Clearly it was deceptive. “I can imagine,” she said.
    “I’m hoping you and I will become friends.”
    “Not in this lifetime,” she said fiercely.
    “That’s what Ken would have wanted,” he added with quiet conviction.
    Dana wanted to hit him for dragging Ken into the conversation, even though he was obviously the reason Rick Sanchez was here. “Do your friends know that you hit below the belt, Mr. Sanchez?”
    He didn’t look half as insulted as Dana might have liked. In fact, he looked her squarely in the eye.
    “I’m a product of the streets,” he reminded her. “I fight any way I have to for what I believe in.”
    The penetrating, brown-eyed gaze, the softly spoken words sent a chill washing through her. For the first time, she fully accepted just how dangerous an adversary Rick Sanchez could be. Knowing the enemy could sometimes be as important as arming against him. With that in mind, she stepped aside and gestured toward the kitchen.
    “Kate and I were just having coffee, if you’d care to join us.”
    There was nothing gloating in his expression, no hint of smug arrogance. In fact, if she’d had to describe what was going on inside him, she would have had to say he looked relieved. Obviously, he hadn’t expected her to capitulate so easily. Good. That meant she’d thrown him off guard.
    In the kitchen, she poured him a cup of coffee, then refilled her own and Kate’s. She deliberately didn’t offer him any of the coffee cake. It didn’t matter. His gaze landed on her slice, then lifted hopefully. “Aren’t you planning to eat that?”
    “No,” she said resignedly and pushed it toward him. “There’s more on the