“Yeah.” Whoever the guy was, Jonah looked surprised to see him here. “I’ve got a couple of extra sandwiches. Did you want one?”
“Nope. Already ate. But thanks.” The man’s dark gaze eased from Jonah to Jill. “I’m looking for Morgan Winter. Is she in?”
“Do you have an appointment?” Jill responded in her friendly-but-noncommittal tone that said Winshore didn’t accept walk-ins.
“No. But it’s important that I see her. Is she around?”
His voice—Morgan recognized it. And it didn’t belong to a client. Or a walk-in.
It was a wrenching memory from the past.
“I’ll check,” Jill was carefully saying. It was obvious she’d picked up on the urgency in his tone. “May I ask your name?”
Morgan had already begun retracing her steps when he replied.
“Yeah. Tell her it’s Pete Montgomery.”
THREE
Jill looked baffled.
The name meant nothing to her. But it meant a life-altering moment to Morgan; the end of childhood, the beginning of a nightmare.
“Detective Montgomery.” She approached him on autopilot.
“So much for that scrawny little girl,” he said, extending his hand. “I feel old.”
“You don’t look old. You look the same.” Morgan’s mind was racing. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Maybe his visit had nothing to do with the past. Maybe he was here for himself, to seek out the right someone.
Doubtful. He wasn’t the type. Plus, the way he’d announced himself—it smacked of police business.
She glanced down at his left hand. He was wearing a wedding ring. So much for partner seeking.
He followed her stare, awareness flickering in his eyes. He knew she was seeking confirmation—and why. “Can I speak to you alone?”
“Of course.” Nodding, she led the way to the first-floor conference room. She could feel Beth’s curious gaze and Jill’s anxious one. She probably should have offered them an explanation, or at least an introduction. But she was having trouble holding it together.
She shut the door behind them and turned to face him. “How are you, Detective? It’s been a long time.”
“Long enough for you to grow up and start your own business.” He eyed her for a moment, then glanced around the sleekly decorated conference room. “Nice setup. I checked out your website. It says that Winshore is a boutique social agency. What’s that—a high-class dating service?”
Morgan sensed he was trying to put her at ease, and she forced a smile. “It’s a specialized matching agency. Jill and I started it up for busy professionals who are looking for a life partner, but whose lives and careers make it impossible for them to invest the time and the energy necessary to find the right person. We provide one-on-one screening, and sophisticated methods of personality analysis and matching. We’ve got dozens of success stories. Marriages, happily-ever-afters, lifelong partnerships.”
“Okay, then, a matchmaking service for rich CEOs who want you to weed out the crud for them.” Detective Montgomery shot her a wry grin. “Sorry. I’m just yanking your chain. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t,” Morgan assured him. “Believe me, I’ve heard just about every comment there is to hear—from curiosity to good-natured teasing like yours to outright insults. I can handle them all.”
“Sounds like you love your work.”
“I do. We benefit a large chunk of the New York population who are comfortable professionally and financially, but are still very lonely.” She paused, then found herself sharing the rest. Somehow she needed him to know—because of who he was, because of how he’d factored into her life. “That’s the bulk of our business. But recently I started up a separate branch, in honor of my mother. It’s composed of women who’ve survived abusive relationships and are looking for healthy ones. For those clients, our fees are waived.”
He got it. She saw unders
tanding flash across his face. “That’s a great tribute to your mother. I’m sure she’d be proud.”
“I hope so.”
“You said your partner’s name is Jill—I assume you mean Jill Shore, the congressman’s daughter? Which would explain the name ‘Winshore.’”