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filled her with all sorts of conflicting feelings that she wasn’t ready to deal with. “Um, sure. Eight o’clock at the usual place?”
He laughed again. “Perfect. By the way, now that this case is wrapping up, we should start thinking about the next one. Do you have anything in the pipeline?”
“Nothing yet, but I just lined up a new job through my temp agency. I’m starting on Monday. Two-month assignment, so I should have plenty of time to look around.”
“I’ll have my paralegal do some background research on them. Who is it?”
“Hold on a sec.” She dug in her purse and found the notes from her last conversation with Trudi. “Okay, here we go: Blue Sea Technology. They do a lot of maritime salvage and engineering work for both Defense and the State of California. Big-ticket stuff like that turbine project under the Golden Gate Bridge. They’re checking my fingerprints and criminal record right now. By the way, my agency says their books are a mess, which is why they’re bringing in me and a couple other CPA temps.”
Connor whistled. “My, my, my. Classified government contracts, lots of money, and messy books. Sounds like an excellent prospect. Happy hunting.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

8
A BOUT AS GOOD AS WE ’ RE GOING TO GET ,” C ONNOR TOLD HIS REFLEC tion. He’d managed to make his wavy brown hair look casual rather than unruly—a feat that usually only his stylist could accomplish. The collarless white Dior shirt looked as good with the black V-neck sweater as the sales clerk had promised, and they both went well with his favorite light gray slacks. He could use a little more chin and a little less nose, but there wasn’t much he could do about that.
He checked his watch: only an hour until his reservation at Wente. Time to get going. He took a deep breath and headed for the door.
There were higher rated restaurants a lot closer to his San Francisco apartment, but Wente was where he went to celebrate. It was a special place—the rolling vineyard hills that surrounded it, the concerts on the lawn on summer nights, the memories of dozens of family dinners there over the years. And they had a superb reserve cabernet to go with their excellent filet mignon. He doubted that Wente was Allie’s type of place, but so what? He wasn’t going to let that spoil his dinner.
His powerful Bentley convertible purred through the clogged streets of San Francisco. They gave way to urban high way at the Bay Bridge, and that in turn gave way to grass-covered hills, populated only by cattle and the occasional deer. Then the hill country opened into a wide valley that held the aptly-named Pleasanton, where Connor had grown up. Ten minutes later he was in the Livermore wine country. And in the heart of the wine country lay the cluster of brightly lit buildings that made up the Wente winery and restaurant.
Connor put the Bentley in park, tossed the keys to the valet, and walked up to the hostess. “Evening, Christine.”
“Good evening, Mr. Norman.” She smiled brightly and glanced at her reservation book. “Table for one tonight?”
“Yes. There’s a concert starting in about fifteen minutes, isn’t there?”
She nodded. “A Grammy-winning jazz trio. Your table has an excellent view.” She picked up a menu and wine list and led him back.
“Good, but don’t put me so close that I can’t carry on a quiet conversation.”
Christine stopped and turned. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted a table for one.”
He smiled. “I do.”
“Umm, okay.”
She seated him and he ordered a glass of champagne. Once he was alone, he put on his Bluetooth headset and took out his cell phone. He started to dial but stopped. No, wait for the champagne.
A moment later, a waiter appeared with a tall flute of sparkling wine, took Connor’s order, and left. Connor discovered that his palms were damp and he wiped them on his pants. Then he picked up his phone and dialed.
Allie picked up on the