Читать книгу A Man's Promise - Brenda Jackson - Страница 12

Four

Dalton Granger checked his watch before entering the private investigator’s office. Great! He was on time for once in his life. He had toyed with the idea of hiring a private investigator for a couple of weeks, and now here he was.

He glanced around the sparsely furnished room and saw a woman sitting at a desk. She glanced up at him and smiled. He immediately thought she didn’t look bad for her age, which he estimated to be late forties. And she didn’t have a ring on her finger. While living in England, he was known as a man who preferred older women. In other words, he didn’t mind being a cougar’s cub. It had its benefits. A mature woman was usually independent, didn’t have time for game playing and wouldn’t create any baby-mama drama.

Since returning to the States, it seemed his tastes had changed, and now he was checking out women his own age or younger...just like the woman he’d met a couple of weeks ago at a local nightclub. The same woman who’d been so hot he still sizzled whenever he thought about her. This same woman had behaved as if he was a bother. She’d even had the nerve to refuse to give him her phone number. And when he told her he was interested in her and asked how he could reach her so the two of them could hook up, she’d had the audacity to tell him he’d have to find her first.

He’d been mad as hell. Dalton Granger didn’t go looking for any woman. There were too many out there to suit his fancy, and usually it was the other way around. Women came looking for him.

So why was he here doing the very thing he swore he wouldn’t do? Why was he willing to hire a private investigator to find the one woman who’d gotten away? The one who had snubbed him at the nightclub.

He could answer his own questions. Because she was a novelty. Different. Pretty damned refreshing. And, besides that, he had a feeling she would be hot in bed. Any woman who wore stilettos on legs like hers had to be. Damn. He would find this mystery woman and find out for himself just how hot she was. For her, he would make her an exception.

He walked toward the receptionist. “I’m Dalton Granger. I have an appointment with Mr. Harris.”

“Yes, Mr. Granger. Mr. Harris is expecting you.”

“Lead the way.”

She stood and led him to a door and, without knocking, she entered. “Mr. Granger is here.”

The man sitting behind the desk reading a sports magazine glanced up and stood, smiling. “Mr. Granger, thank you for coming in. I understand you want me to find someone for you.”

Dalton nodded. “Yes, Mr. Harris, I do.” The man had come recommended by Myron, the bartender/owner he’d met while frequenting McQueen’s, a sports bar and grill not far from Granger Aeronautics. Myron swore that Emory Harris was one of the best in the business and that he specialized in missing persons. Usually it was deadbeat dads that Emory Harris tracked down, but Dalton figured if he was as good as Myron claimed, then he would give the man his business.

“Please have a seat, Mr. Granger,” Harris said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

“Thank you.” Dalton heard the receptionist leave, closing the door behind her.

“Would you like something to drink? Thanks to Myron, I keep a pretty well-stocked bar.”

“No, thanks. I’m fine. How did the two of you meet?”

Emory, who looked to be in his late forties, smiled. “Myron’s wife and I went to college together and remained close friends.” He paused and then said, “I understand you’re looking for someone. A female. Is she your ex?”

Ex? Boy, was he way off, Dalton thought. “No, she’s a woman I met one night at a club. She seemed to be in a hurry, and when I asked for her contact information, she rushed out and called over her shoulder that I should find her...and I intend to.”

“She must be some woman if you’re willing to go to the trouble.”

For a second Dalton thought about what Harris had just said. He’d already beaten himself up about what he was doing. It was so unlike him. But then all it took was for him to remember how she looked walking into that club—stilettos, legs and a shapely figure any man would appreciate. He had done more than appreciate it. He’d been lusting after her ever since. Shit, the woman was interfering with his sex life, making it hard for him to desire any other woman. He thought it would have passed by now, but so far, it hadn’t. He needed to meet her, talk to her, have sex with her a few times to see why she had such an effect on him. And she definitely was having an effect. He got an erection every time he thought about her.

“Yes, I guess you can say she was some woman. So, you think you can find her?”

“I’m sure I can. I’ll need the name of the club. She might be a regular there.”

Dalton gave him the name of the club, which Harris jotted down.

“Did you see what kind of car she was driving?” he asked.

Dalton shook his head. “No. By the time I walked outside, she was driving away, and it was dark.”

Harris nodded. “Describe her.”

Dalton smiled, thinking. Gorgeous legs. Firm breasts. Curvy ass. But to Harris he said, “She was pretty. Sexy. Hot.”

Harris stared at him for a minute and then asked, “What about her skin tone? Eye color? Hair color? Did you notice any of that?”

Dalton had to really think hard about it. “Brown skin. Brown eyes. Brown hair.”

Harris nodded as he jotted the information down. “Notice anything else?”

“She was wearing Amarige.”

Harris looked up. “Excuse me?”

“Her perfume was Amarige. Nice fragrance on a woman, and it smelled super nice on her.”

Harris lifted a brow. “You’re so familiar with fragrances that you can name one?”

Dalton shrugged. “Yes. I guess I can. I’m a bit of an expert.”

Harris chuckled. “I would definitely say that you are.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have a case I’ll be wrapping up over the next week or so, and then I’m on it.”

Dalton smiled. That was what he wanted to hear. He couldn’t wait to see the woman again.