First You Kiss 100 Men...

‘‘Now I suggest you take some time to go through the files and familiarize yourself with the cases. The information in them and the way they’re organized will give you a good idea of what we do around here.’’

‘‘Files,’’ she grumbled. ‘‘Spying would be more people-oriented.’’

Hunter picked up a few of the client folders from the open drawer and dropped them on her desk. ‘‘These are people. I suggest you treat them with care.’’

Julie released a disappointed sigh. How on earth, she wondered, would she ever meet any kissable men while stuck at this desk?

After transcribing the final sentence of the letter, Julie took off the headphones, typed in the signature lines and turned up the volume on the radio that crowded her desk. If she couldn’t enjoy the work, she’d at least entertain herself by listening to the prank call of the day. She blew a bored sigh when Hunter brought her another cassette tape jammed with dictated letters, memos and instructions.

‘‘Everything going okay?’’ he asked.

‘‘Hunky-dory,’’ Julie replied with more than a hint of sarcasm, and stuck a report on the stack of papers to go to Spencer in accounting. Truthfully, mundane was a more fitting description of how things were going. ‘‘You know, I really would do fine on stakeout. All this nitpicky paperwork is a waste of my talents.’’

Hunter reached over and transferred the report from Spencer’s pile to Priscilla’s. ‘‘If you can’t keep a proper handle on this ‘nitpicky paperwork,’ how can you expect to handle a delicate matter like surveillance, which requires so much attention to detail?’’

It would be different if the paperwork was relevant to something Julie liked doing. Like reporting. But spending all day shuffling papers for someone else’s projects seemed pointless.

Hunter gave her a smug wink and returned to his office.

Julie bit her tongue to keep from hurling a scathing comment at his retreating form. Instead, she turned her fury on the keyboard, jabbing the keys as she punched in the command to print the letter she’d just typed.

‘‘I’ll show him,’’ she vowed. If he wanted attention to details, then that was what she’d give him. Julie Beth Fasano would be so meticulous, so methodical and so, well, mundane that he would have no excuse for refusing to allow her on his surveillance outings. She would be so perfect, so particular and so persnickety that—

The printer jammed.

Unwilling to risk gobbing up the machine with paper, she went to the computer and hit a key to cancel the print job. The letter disappeared from the screen.

Julie stifled a scream of frustration.

‘‘Is that letter to Mrs. Huffnagle ready yet?’’ Hunter called from his office.

‘‘It’s coming along.’’ There was no telling when, but she’d get it to him eventually.

‘‘Great. How about turning that radio down a bit.’’

The last wasn’t a request, but an order. She lowered the volume and slid her shoes on in preparation to go look for Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary, who might be able to help her unjam the printer and retrieve her lost document. Spencer chose that moment to pick up the papers she’d been intending to deliver to him. He gave her an assessing smile.

In return, Julie pushed a jar of toffees toward him. ‘‘How much candy would it take to persuade you to help me with this stupid computer?’’

Spencer shook his head. ‘‘I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. But there is something much more appetizing that you could bribe me with.’’

One corner of his mouth lifted in anticipation.

Julie automatically assessed the accountant’s kissing potential. In the looks department, he was okay, despite the fact that he used a tad too much gel on his artfully styled, dark-blond hair. His face was handsome in a slightly better than average way, and his slate-blue suit gave an impression of good taste while carefully concealing the beginnings of a paunch. From what little she knew about him, Spencer seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t interested in him as dating material. Even so, he’d probably stolen his share of kisses and might be willing to enlighten her with the benefit of his experience. And give her something to write about in her column.

She smiled and self-consciously straightened the turtleneck collar at her throat. ‘‘I suppose that’s something we’ll have to negotiate.’’

He graciously let the subject drop as he moved behind her desk and hunched beside her to maneuver the computer mouse. While he worked to retrieve the document, the radio deejay chattered on about how many calls he’d received that morning.

‘‘I just don’t understand all the commotion over a silly newspaper column,’’ the deejay continued. ‘‘It seems like everyone in Richmond is asking who this mystery kisser is. And they’re all calling us, as if we should know.’’

Julie felt her eyes nearly pop, then struggled to maintain an attitude of nonchalance as the radio aired a conversation with one of the curious callers. Slipping her shoes off once again, she leaned back in her chair and worried how this might affect her chances for employment with the newspaper.

‘‘What’s the matter?’’ Spencer asked as he moused his way around the computer screen.

‘‘Nothing,’’ she said a bit too hastily. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Julie saw that he didn’t seem to notice her unease. Emboldened, she decided to probe for his reaction to her column. ‘‘I was just thinking about that mystery kisser they were talking about just now. I haven’t read the paper yet—did you see the column?’’

Spencer hit the enter key. ‘‘Oops.’’

Hunter chose that moment to emerge from his office and ask for the Lifeway Insurance file.

Spencer straightened and handed her the mouse. ‘‘Sorry I couldn’t help you.’’

After he left, Julie stood up to block Hunter’s view of the cryptic error message on her computer monitor. It was still her first day. The last thing she wanted was to let him know she’d managed to mess things up already.

He took the file she handed him and paused to stare down at her. ‘‘You weren’t that short this morning.’’

Without moving from her position, Julie stretched a toe toward the black mules hiding under her desk. ‘‘I, uh…’’ She gave a little laugh. ‘‘My shoes temporarily went AWOL.’’

He glanced down at her nylon-clad feet, then ever so slowly pulled his gaze up her body until his eyes met hers. He grinned knowingly, and the suggestiveness in his smile made her wish it was August already so she could give him another birthday kiss. ‘‘Perhaps you should ask Mr. Oltmeier’s secretary to help you retrieve Mrs. Huffnagle’s letter.’’

Julie hurriedly slid her feet into the recaptured shoes and made a move to leave, but Hunter stopped her with a hand on her arm.

‘‘Before you go, I’d better warn you that Priscilla is a notorious matchmaker. She has tried to fix up her bachelor brother with every single female in the office.’’

Julie smiled broadly. Another potential kisser.

Hunter appeared irked by her reaction. ‘‘Why are you looking so happy? I’m trying to warn you not to let her sic her brother on you.’’ He shifted the folder to his other arm. ‘‘And while we’re on the subject, you should probably stay away from Spencer, too. He’s totally trustworthy where numbers are concerned, but that kind of integrity doesn’t always follow him into his social life.’’

Once again, Julie felt like a ten-year-old being lectured by her older, more worldly brother. She clenched her teeth and accidentally bit her cheek. With a grimace, she sought to remind him once again that she wasn’t the little girl next door who needed to be reminded not to run into the street.

‘‘I’m stating the obvious here, but you’re my boss, not my date filter.’’

His eyebrows pulled together in the frequently used expression of his youth. He had done that a lot when they were neighbors, mainly when Julie had used her own form of logic to explain whatever mischief she’d managed to get herself into.

‘‘Huh?’’

She paused for a second, reminding herself that Hunter wasn’t normally the type to interfere in her personal life. The only times he’d ever butted into her business were when he was concerned that she might get hurt. Like the time he’d caught her trying to make an explosive out of cap-gun powder. So she sought to reassure him. ‘‘Thanks to you and Gran, I’ve accumulated all the savvy advice I’ll ever need. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.’’

‘‘Yeah, but you still see only the best in people, sometimes even when they don’t deserve it.’’ His expression turned serious, as it had when they used to hold their philosophical discussions about whether cats had nine lives or lemmings really committed mass suicide. ‘‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’’

She lifted her chin. When would he understand that she was no longer an impulsive child who needed his protection? ‘‘I can take care of myself. Contrary to your long-held opinion, I’m not an accident waiting to happen.’’

At that moment, the deejay announced his return from the commercial break with the sound effect of shattering glass. Julie started at the noise, and Hunter gave her one of those knowing looks that once again managed to make her feel as if he had read her very thoughts.

His response was a resigned sigh. ‘‘When you talk to Priscilla, ask her to block out some time every day for the next week to give you some intensive training.’’

He turned to head back to his office, pausing only long enough to straighten one of the stacks of papers on her desk.

Julie popped a toffee into her mouth and tossed the wrapper into the trash can. This next month was going to be a long, hard one.

Chapter Three

Everyone loves a good mystery. Some people like it in movies or books. Others, such as doctors and scientists, attempt to solve mysteries in their jobs every day. Me? I like a bit of mystery in the man I’m kissing.

The man on the phone sounded a lot like Hunter. But why would he be calling from his office while he was with a client?

‘‘Hunter, is everything all right?’’

He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘‘This is Peter Matthews, Hunter’s brother. Is he in?’’

It took Julie a moment to adjust to the fact that the voice on the phone didn’t belong to her employer. A span of about nine or ten years separated the brothers in age, which meant that Peter had been practically an adult by the time she was born. Although he hadn’t been around much as she was growing up, she had seen him occasionally during holidays and his frequent visits home. And at his father’s funeral. Hunter had taken the elder Matthews’s death very hard.

His father, a policeman, had been killed in an on-duty accident when his partner had failed to follow a standard safety procedure. For a brief time Hunter had followed in his dad’s footsteps and worked in law enforcement before leaving it to work at the agency. Julie supposed the accident was also the reason Hunter had become such a stickler for policy and procedure.

‘‘Peter, it’s nice to talk to you again. This is Julie Fasano.’’ A pause followed while he apparently searched his memory to place the name. ‘‘I used to live next door to you.’’

‘‘Julie?’’ he asked, as if still unsure who he might be talking to.

‘‘You might remember me as Julie Beth.’’

‘‘Oh, yes, Julie Beth! The little girl who used to come over all the time and mooch cookies. So you’re working for my brother now, eh?’’ He chuckled softly. ‘‘I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that.’’

‘‘Well, actually, it’s been fairly uneventful.’’ Manners kept her from telling the full truth—that the job was boring. ‘‘Hunter is meeting with a client right now. Would you like me to get him for you?’’

She supposed she shouldn’t interrupt him, but this was his brother and it might be important. Besides, she was curious about the discussion between Hunter and his client, and if she had an excuse to go in there, she might catch a portion of their conversation. Better yet, she’d love to actively participate in finding the daughter that the elegant Mrs. Dexter had given up for adoption nearly forty years ago.

‘‘No, but you can give him a message for me.’’

Rats! Julie frantically searched for something to write on. In the process, she knocked a cup of pens onto the floor. Picking one up, she uncapped it and started scribbling on the closest bit of paper available—the margin of the newspaper in which she’d been reading her column. Peter started talking, but the ink refused to flow.

‘‘Hold on a sec.’’ She dragged the tip across the paper a few times before a spot of blue emerged. ‘‘‘Check to see if…’ What was the rest?’’

‘‘If the subject we discussed recently might be the mystery kisser.’’

For a moment, it seemed as though Julie’s heart forgot to beat. Surely he couldn’t be referring to her column? And who was this ‘‘subject’’ he’d mentioned? ‘‘Did you say ‘the mystery kisser’?’’

‘‘Yeah. It’s the new column in the newspaper that everyone’s talking about. Today’s article gives me reason to believe she might be the author, ‘Ann Onimus.’’’

‘‘Oh my.’’ Julie wondered if it would be prudent to probe for a name.

‘‘Yeah, that was my reaction, too.’’

Julie hesitated before asking her next question. It was important to find out more about this curious development, but she didn’t want to let on that her interest was more personal than professional. ‘‘I’m afraid I don’t understand the significance. Why would Hunter want to know who’s writing a column about kissing styles?’’

‘‘He doesn’t.’’

She allowed a moment of silence to follow Peter’s statement, hoping he’d fill it with a more in-depth explanation. He didn’t.

‘‘Just give him my message,’’ Peter continued. ‘‘He’ll know what it’s about.’’

‘‘Sure. I’ll do that.’’ With any luck, Hunter might be a bit more forthcoming than his older brother had been. And someday pigs would fly. But she could certainly give it her best shot.

‘‘Good luck in your new job.’’

With the way things were going lately, she was going to need more than luck. Whether Hunter liked it or not, she was going to have to do a bit of sleuthing of her own.

For the next quarter hour, Julie resisted interrupting Hunter’s meeting. The conversation with Peter consumed her thoughts. She tried to distract herself from worrying about it by focusing on a case in which a Mr. Younce was claiming disability benefits for a work-related back injury. Hunter had already explained that much of their business involved investigating insurance claims that were suspected of being fraudulent. Lifeway, the insurance company with offices in the same building, provided them with a lot of these cases. As for Mr. Younce’s supposed incapacitation, the man had reportedly been seen doing yard work and even demonstrating some wrestling moves to his young son. Although it would thrill Julie to catch the dishonest scumball in the act of scamming his employer, the mounds of paperwork attached to the Younce case left her cold.

Muttering under her breath, she chanted, ‘‘Bored, bored, bored, bored.’’

Julie moved aside some folders to turn up the radio. Though she doubted her column would still hold the public’s attention after yesterday’s brief discussion, she tuned in anyway. A popular rock tune was playing, and she noted that the Burning Issues talk segment was another twenty minutes away.

Too antsy to sit still for that long, she carried the newspaper to Hunter’s office door and listened to hear if the meeting was almost finished. The heavy wood effectively blocked most of the sounds, so she stepped closer and pressed an ear to the dark oak. No luck. Just some general murmuring sounds that she couldn’t distinguish.

With a flip of her hair, she pressed her ear more firmly to the barrier. In almost the same instant, the knob clicked, the door swung open and Hunter leaped forward to catch Julie as she fell inward toward the surprised pair.

‘‘Goodness!’’ said Mrs. Dexter, staggering back a step.

Bracing herself with a hand on Hunter’s firm abdomen, Julie regained her balance. Time slowed as she breathed in the clean, masculine scent of him, and she briefly forgot that he was the boss and she was the secretary. She even forgot there was another person in the room with them. All she was aware of while she clutched his waist was that he was a man and she was a woman. And she wanted to investigate him with every one of her senses.

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