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“I’m not sure about this part. Did he escape and go looking for her?” She watched him track a hand through his dark blond
hair and thought he needed a haircut to be politician-perfect. Perhaps he’d been too busy.

“Hell, no. They let him out for his mother’s funeral, and he went straight to Angie. And killed her.”

Liz was instantly empathetic. “Her family must have been devastated.”

“And furious.” Adam studied her eyes, such a soft brown, huge with sympathy. A man could get lost in those eyes. He rose,
went back to the kitchen for the bottle, topped off their glasses, noticing she’d had very little. “I knew we had a hell of
a case. The problem was, we couldn’t locate the SOB. He had friends and had gone underground. None of my sources could find
him.”

“So what did you do?”

Adam sat back down, warming to his story. “Did you ever hear of a cop named Serpico on the East Coast?”

“Of course. There was a movie about him.”

“Well, Leon Kowalski is our West Coast Serpico. There’re dozens of stories about him circulating in California.
He’s worked in several districts, always undercover. I think his rank was detective sergeant at the time. He still has the
best arrest record in the state. Kowalski—no one calls him Leon—uses some pretty unorthodox methods, and he’s been reprimanded
a time or two, but he’s never been pulled off a case. He has a drawer full of citations, but he couldn’t care less. It’s the
thrill of the chase that grabs Kowalski.”

“He wasn’t mentioned in any of the articles I read.”

Adam shook his head. “There’s sort of an unwritten rule among the reporters. Kowalski likes to keep a low profile. He’s not
after credit, he’s after criminals. And, like the Mounties, he always gets his man.”

“I take it he found your man for you.”

“That he did. We finally got Gene behind bars. Sam wanted to kill him with his bare hands. Barring that, he wanted to get
the people who freed Gene without letting Angie’s family know.”

“And you sure got them.”

“It didn’t bring his daughter back, but Sam considered it a victory of sorts.” The district attorney had fought valiantly,
using every trick in the book. But when all was said and done, Adam had obtained the largest settlement from the city of San
Diego ever awarded in a case of its kind.

“That case reminded me of one my father handled quite some time ago. Do you remember Saul Peters?”

Shifting closer, Adam nodded. “Sure. Wrongful death, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Liz went into the case, noticing the intense way he listened. Just like her father. They both made a woman feel as
if she were the only one on the face of the earth.

“But I thought that the Townsend firm specialized in corporate law?” Adam took another swallow.

She watched him drink. His mouth was a hard, masculine line, yet his lower lip was full. Then there was that intriguing dimple.
“They do now, but my father started out in criminal law. I think he still has a yearning for the more dramatic
cases. He’s handled a few sticky ones from time to time. Did you read about the Byrnes embezzlement?”

“Sure. It was up in the millions, right?”

“Six, to be exact.” As they finished rehashing the Byrnes case and a couple of others, Adam held up the bottle, offering more
wine. Liz shook her head, glancing at her watch. Ten to eight. Oh, damn.

She’d forgotten the hour, where she was, everything except the enjoyable conversation, being with someone interesting. It
had felt good, the give and take, the occasional funny aside. Still, it definitely wasn’t like her to disregard her commitments.

She stood. “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s not that late.” Adam rose, too, and touched her arm. “Listen, I made a batch of chili yesterday. A friend from Texas
gave me the recipe. It’s hot enough to sizzle your socks. Stay and have some with me, please?”

“I can’t. I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house for dinner in ten minutes.” She brushed back her hair. “I can’t believe
it’s so late.”

“Neither can I.” He took a step nearer. It had been a long while since a woman had made him forget the time. It seemed he
always had one eye on the clock these days. “Were you lying earlier?” He reached to touch the ends of her hair, lightly, briefly.
“Are you afraid, after all?”

She looked into his eyes. They were Paul Newman blue, darkening as he watched her. There was something dangerous here. Not
in the physical sense, yet she sensed something of the predator in Adam McKenzie. A man born to be in charge. A man a smart
woman would avoid.

And she was a smart woman, Liz knew, one who followed the rules, played by the book, a dutiful daughter. But at least once
in every good girl’s life, she experiences an irrepressible urge to reach out and touch the flame.

“Where’s your phone?” she asked.

Adam stirred the contents of the large pot. “Mmm, how does that smell?” he asked Liz. “Terrific, right?”

She knew she probably looked apprehensive. “I don’t usually eat red meat. Beef, that is.”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those born-again vegetarians?”

“No. I like chicken and fish. But about a year ago, my friend Molly Washington and I went to Chicago on a little vacation.
She’s a vegetarian. And she dragged me through those awful slaughterhouses. Ever since then…”

“Uh-huh. What do you think they do with chickens, chloroform them gently? Or fish, drown ’em, maybe? C’mon, just one taste.”
He dipped the spoon in deep. “Just one.”

Liz opened her mouth and took some, tasting hesitantly, then took the rest. Swallowing, she conceded, “It’s not bad.”

“Well, thank you for your lavish praise. Are you also a reformed smoker?”

“I’ve never smoked. It’s just all those big-eyed cows. The
sounds they made going inside the building.” She shuddered, remembering.

He laughed. “Deliver me. A do-gooder.”

She didn’t know him well enough, but she cuffed him on the arm with her fist anyway. “Stop that.”

He reached for two bowls, began spooning. “After you eat this, you’ll be a convert.”

He was right. She ate every bite and half of a crusty roll. Her mouth was on fire, but she loved the taste. The chili was
delicious but quite ordinary fare compared to what her mother was probably serving.

Katherine had been cool on the phone when she’d called and given a breezy explanation of being delayed by work, which wasn’t
exactly the truth. The mitigating factor had been that she so rarely backed out of an engagement—especially at the eleventh
hour—so her mother forgave her. But Katherine hadn’t been able to resist reminding her daughter that Richard Fairchild would
be greatly disappointed. He’ll get over it, Liz thought as she sipped her wine and watched her host finish his second bowl.

“All right, you win,” she said, leaning back on the wooden captain’s chair. His butcher block table sat beneath a window that
looked out on the flight pattern to San Diego International Airport. She paused to allow the noise of a low-flying plane to
subside. “Your chili’s wonderful. But don’t tell Molly.”

“I won’t if you won’t.” Adam reached for his wine. “You said you majored in art. What kind?”

“I’ve done a little of everything, but I’ve settled on sculpting.”

He inclined his head, impressed. “Are you any good?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Who can judge her own work? I know I enjoy molding clay. You can work off a lot of aggressions
that way.”

“Do you have a lot of aggressions?” Adam leaned forward and reached for her hand, studying the smooth skin, the
short, unpolished nails. He felt her pulse leap, then try to settle. “I wouldn’t think so.”

The question seemed a little personal for their short acquaintance. “Doesn’t everyone?” She felt warm, despite the air-conditioning.
From the wine, the chili, the man touching her, his thumb rubbing along the inside of her wrist. “This time, I really have
to leave.” Tugging back her hand, she rose just as the cuckoo clock on the wall began announcing the hour of nine. The wooden
piece, probably hand-carved, seemed so out of place in his modern apartment that she stared at the intricate bird in surprise.
She also wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before this. Had she been so engrossed in Adam McKenzie, his deep voice, his compelling
presence?

Adam followed her gaze. “My mother brought me that from Germany’s Black Forest last year. It’s kind of silly, but I like it.”

Sentimental, too. Kind to animals, a crusader for justice, a good cook, a man with an engaging sense of humor—an enormously
attractive man. He had to have some faults. Maybe he steals pencils from blind beggars, or kicks widows he helps across streets.
Adam McKenzie was a shade too close to perfection for comfort, Liz decided as she carried their bowls to the sink.

“Leave those. I’ll load them in the dishwasher later.” He picked up the manila envelope and removed the letters. “These’ll
just take a minute or two.” He sat back down to skim them. When he finished signing, he sealed the envelopes. “Do you mind
dropping these in our downstairs mailbox?” he asked, walking to where she waited by the door.

“Not at all.” Liz took the letters, her hand not quite as steady as she’d have wished. This was absurd, she reminded herself.
He was merely a man she was helping to get elected. Nothing more. “Thanks for the wine and the dinner.”

“Thanks for bringing my mail over.” He came closer,
lightly placing a hand on the small of her back. “And for helping with the kitten.”

“If you’re going to keep her, you’ll have to get a litter box and food. That sort of thing. She could make a real mess by
morning.”

“I’m hoping there’s a child in the building who’s lost a pet and I can reunite them. If not, I guess I’ll have to keep her.
Don’t Orientals believe that if you save a life, it belongs to you?”

“Cats always own their masters, didn’t you know?” Even barefoot, he was half a foot taller; she had to tilt her head to look
into his eyes. What she saw there had her wanting to stay, needing to leave. Her hand closed around the doorknob as her mind
searched for a witty exit line. She could come up with none. “I’ll probably see you at the office one day,” she said inanely.

“Count on it.” With the slightest pressure, he eased her nearer.

Liz could feel his warm breath on her cheeks, could easily guess his intention as his head began to lower. She stiffened.
He was entirely too smooth, too practiced. “No,” she said quietly, firmly. “I don’t want this.”
Liar!
her mind screamed as she opened the door.

Adam stepped back, thrust both hands into his back pockets, annoyed with himself. What had come over him, making a pass at
one of his volunteers? Fitz would have a shit fit. “Neither do I, believe it or not.” His eyes searched hers, trying to read
her feelings. “But something’s happening here.” Despite his reluctance, he couldn’t repudiate it.

Liz had to deny it. Had to. She wasn’t accustomed to encounters that left her trembling. It was one thing to touch the flame
and quite another to leap into the fire. She recognized that she was way out of her realm of experience with this man. “We’re
intelligent, mature adults. We don’t
have
to let anything happen. We have free will.”

He smiled. “Do we?” He let her leave then, watched her
walk to the elevator without looking back. He closed the door after her and moved to the window to stare out at the sea.

He hadn’t wanted her to go. He wanted to carry her in to his big four-poster bed and bury himself deep inside her. He wanted
to taste her, to make love with her until neither of them could move.

How long had it been since he’d wanted a woman like that? Adam asked himself. A very long time.

Slowly he walked back into the kitchen to check on the kitten.

Sam Lorenzo was not an experienced speaker. Not for just anyone would he get duded up in a suit, tie, and tight collar and
speak in front of a roomful of strangers in a posh hotel he’d never even visited before. The Hotel Del Coronado was too ritzy
for his taste, the people too sophisticated for his comfort. The banquet room with its richly paneled walls and chandeliers
in the shape of crowns was more than a little intimidating. But everyone had been so nice to him and his wife. He knew his
English wasn’t all that good, yet no one seemed to mind.

After Fitz had introduced him he’d begun talking, and they’d given him their polite attention. As his story built and the
emotions came to the surface, Sam needed to take out his white handkerchief and unashamedly dab at his damp eyes. He’d noticed
more than one person in the audience brushing aside tears, too. Now he was building up to his big finish.

“He got my family a big settlement, my friend Adam McKenzie did,” Sam declared. “But that’s not what’s important. How many
meals can a man eat? How many suits can he wear? Money isn’t what Mr. McKenzie got us. He got us
justice. “

The applause that followed wasn’t merely polite; it was loud and enthusiastic. As if he were a trained political speaker,
Sam waited for it to die down before he continued.
“And the best part is that Mr. McKenzie, he didn’t stop with just our one case. He shook up the politicians and got a bill
passed. The law’s changed now here in California.” He swallowed hard and scanned the faces all looking at him, many very moved.
There was almost absolute silence as he delivered his final line. “Because of what that good man did, no other woman has to
die like my Angie died.” Wiping his eyes, Sam Lorenzo stepped down from the podium and walked back to his seat on the dais.

“The man deserves this standing ovation,” Molly commented to Liz at the side table reserved for Adam’s volunteers and aides
as they stood, joining in the applause. She noticed that Barry and Jesse and Steve were on their feet, as was Diane. “It couldn’t
have been easy for him to get up there and say all that.”

“I agree.” Liz watched Fitz resume his place behind the mike, clapping as the cheering continued.

“As testimonials go, Sam Lorenzo’s a hard act to follow. But look at Adam. He seems almost embarrassed.”