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too-friendly smile, before he proceeded to the table with the champagne. “Kate Kennedy, right?”
    â€œYes.”
    Katelyn didn’t have to ask his name. He was Bruce Donovan. Age, twenty-nine. A local, but that sun-bleached hair, tropical tan and muscled torso seemed more suited to a California beach than the Alamo City. His official job title was office manager of the Perfect Match Agency.
    He was also a prime murder suspect.
    Of course, anyone associated with the agency was a suspect, but Donovan was near the top of that list. According to his background check, he’d been hit with not one but two restraining orders for stalking former girlfriends. The last incident had escalated into an assault. Combined with the fact that he was from San Antonio and a white male, it meant he fit their profile to a proverbial tee.
    â€œI’m Bruce Donovan,” he greeted. “I run things around here. In fact, I’m the one who processed your application.” His face got a contemplative look for several seconds, then he snapped his fingers. “You’re a P.E. teacher on break for the summer. You like old Indiana Jones movies, basketball and chili.”
    He grinned as if pleased with himself for recalling that information. Katelyn didn’t return the grin. If he actually memorized details about every client, it was a little unnerving. If he’d only memorized her details, then it went well past the unnerving stage.
    â€œI remember because I kept thinking what a great match we’d be,” he continued. “But unfortunately since I work here, I’m not allowed to pair up with any of the clients. Well, not officially anyway.”
    Good grief. As if he hadn’t gotten his message across, he aimed another flirtatious grin in her direction.
    â€œSo do a lot of people actually find their perfect match at these icebreakers?” she asked.
    â€œDepends on your definition of perfect.”
    â€œA lifelong partner,” Katelyn quickly offered.
    â€œAh, marriage.” He shrugged. “Sure, it happens.” But that was as far as he took the thread of conversation.
    She pointed to the wall above the table. “You should put photos of the happy couples there. It’d be great publicity.”
    â€œI’ll pass on your suggestion to my boss.” He placed the bottle of champagne on the table, searched through the two dozen or so plastic-encased name tags and picked up one.
    Hers, apparently.
    He crossed the room and reached out as if to pin it on her jacket, just over her left breast, but Katelyn intervened and took it from him instead. So he wasperhaps a groping pervert in addition to being a stalker and a killer.
    What a pleasant guy.
    His all-American surfer-dude smile faded. He probably wasn’t happy with her insistence that she pin on her own name tag.
    Katelyn nodded her greeting in lieu of a handshake, and she tried to pick up on any other vibes. There was definitely that little buzz in the back of her head, but it’d been there since she’d first stepped foot in the place. And speaking of stepping, she backtracked a little toward the door so she could take cover in case Donovan was aiming for a third restraining order.
    Donovan tipped his head to the glossy gold-and-white Perfect Match folder she’d tucked beneath her arm. “So did you see any immediate prospects on your list?”
    â€œOne. But it could be a coincidence.” Since it was time to do a little more stage setting, she pinned on her name tag and opened the folder. She pointed to Joe’s alias. “I dated a guy by that name in high school.”
    Something darted through his coffee-brown eyes. Concern, maybe? “Is that good or bad?”
    â€œDefinitely good. He’s the one who got away, if you know what I mean.”
    He made a sound of superficial agreement and then quickly excused himself to leave when a man and a woman came in. Not Joe. But from the