"Secret Agent Man," he told himself with a laugh as he hurried toward the elevators. "Running away from your own damn desk. Pathetic."

He'd wanted to do fieldwork, wanted to get away from the lab and the computers and see some action. Well, now he was seeing it. Hiding from an idiot like Anspaugh-it was fricking embarrassing.

But a little embarrassment he could handle. He only hoped it didn't end up costing him his job altogether.

Or landing him in jail.

Brandon looked like a kid playing a dangerous game when he showed up at Wyatt's later that morning. Lily almost found herself laughing as he described his game of hide-and-seek with Tom Anspaugh. She knew the game could have had very serious consequences if he'd been caught out, but couldn't deny she would have liked to see Anspaugh's face when he realized he'd been misled.

"You rule breaker," she said, shaking her head and eyeing him with affection.

He dramatically threw himself down on the lounge chair, which stood beside the patio table. "God, I need a drink. All this clandestine stuff is giving me the jitters."

"I think it's your hyper personality that gives you the jitters."

"Hey, I'm not hyper." He shot her a wide grin. "I'm just exciting."

This time, she didn't control her laughter. She let it spill from her lips, so happy to have Brandon flirting with her, acting completely at ease, like a playful little brother, that she just couldn't help it.

His happy smile widened when he saw he'd made her laugh. And when it faded, he reached for her hand, squeezed it, and said, "It's good to have you back, Tiger Lily."

Thoroughly relieved he'd gotten over whatever kind of feelings he'd thought he had for her, and gone back to being the adorable, roguish player she knew him to be, she squeezed back. "It's good to have you back, too."

"If you two are finished, we have work to do."

She hadn't even heard Wyatt return from the house, and he nearly growled the words. He'd been in an awful mood since that lawyer had called, barely meeting her eye, not wanting to even have a conversation until after Brandon arrived. Now he looked even more irritated.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why. He'd been kicking himself for kissing her, and tried putting up that wall between them afterward. Now, though, he was afraid someone else might be going around it.

It almost made her laugh again, the idea that Wyatt might think she would prefer Brandon. Men were such strange creatures. He wanted her but wouldn't take her. Yet he didn't want her with anyone else, either.

When, she wondered, would Wyatt realize he was falling in love with her?

"Are you ready to listen to the new clips?" he asked, not meeting her eye.

"I suppose."

For some reason, since the moment Wyatt had finished his call with that scumbag Boyd's attorney-who, judging by whom she took on as a client, had to be pretty scummy herself-he'd been anxious for her to listen to the audio clips Brandon had brought down. The speakers had been recorded at the same annual medical convention she'd listened to before, only one year previously. He hadn't said why it was so important, just that something the lawyer had said made it even more imperative that she listen again for the voice of the man who had attacked her. With any luck, he'd attended the previous year as a speaker. That was the hope, anyway. Then they'd have his identity.

She was due for some luck. Right?

"I've uploaded the files off the flash drive onto your laptop," Brandon said, sitting up in the chair. "Whenever you're ready, Lily."

"Are you sure you don't want to go inside to make sure there are no outside noises distracting you?" Wyatt asked.

"Now that I know exactly who I'm listening for, I don't think I'll miss him even if your next-door neighbor decides to jackhammer his driveway."

She'd never forget that voice. Never.

Lily scooted close to the table, sipping from the glass of iced tea she'd poured for herself when she'd gone in to change her clothes. Coming outside in a short bathrobe might not have been a big deal with Wyatt, but she wasn't nearly as comfortable with Brandon or anybody else

When, she wondered, was he going to realize she was falling in love with him?

Oh, yes, falling so hard. This was nothing like the silly crush she'd once had on the man. It was no longer about being dazzled by someone smart and handsome and mysterious. She wasn't awed by him anymore; she'd become his equal. And the way he'd acknowledged that more with each passing day-how she'd changed, how she'd strengthened-had made her fall for him even more.

She no longer doubted she was woman enough for him. She doubted only whether he'd let her be.

"Okay, let's do this," she said, forcing all the crazy personal thoughts out of her head. There was still a long road to travel before she could think about any kind of future, a life with Wyatt, or one without him. For now, she just needed to focus on staying alive.

Wyatt handed Brandon a sheet of paper he'd carried out from inside. He'd gone to check something on the Internet, and he'd returned with a list of the medical workshops presented two years ago. "Go right to number nine," he said, putting the paper on the table. He tapped his finger on the line in question. "This group workshop."

Lily glanced over, catching sight of the first speaker's name. "Alfred Underwood… Why does that sound familiar?"

Wyatt remained standing behind her, blocking out the sun with his broad frame. "The woman whose car was stolen-Dr. Kean? Her maiden name was Underwood. Alfred is her father."

Lily gasped in surprise. "You said you didn't suspect her!"

"I don't suspect her of being involved in your kidnapping. But I think she and her sister-in-law might be hiding something. Why would two women who strongly dislike each other stick together to cover up for someone unless it was a member of their own family?"

With all that had gone on in the past forty-eight hours, Wyatt hadn't had time to tell her everything about his interview with the surgeons, but she didn't think he'd have kept such a tidbit from her if he'd suspected before now. The only thing she could think of that could have led him in this direction was this morning's phone call.

"What did the attorney tell you?" she asked.

He didn't seem surprised that she'd put it together. "She told me her office is located in Williamsburg."

Interesting. But certainly not a stop-the-presses revelation. "We knew Lovesprettyboys was in that area back during the initial investigation. That's why the stakeout was conducted there. So why do you think the attorney might be specifically linked to Dr. Kean or her family?"

"Call it a hunch. I had some misgivings when I left the office Tuesday."

"I trust your hunches more than I trust most people's studied findings."

"Ditto," said Brandon.

"Hearing the attorney's location just made me a bit more suspicious and I wanted to check a few things out." He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small stack of folded pieces of paper, handing her the top sheet. On it was a printed screen shot from a Web page, one of those doctor report-card sites, and it was focused on Dr. Alfred Underwood. He had been sued for malpractice twice, which, in his line of work, probably wasn't a bad record.

"Look who represented him," Wyatt said.

She did, and felt absolutely no surprise when she saw Claire Vincent's name. "You really ought to patent your hunch method."

"It gets better." He handed her the next sheet. This time, the page was a printout from an online newspaper article. Wyatt had cropped out most of the text to focus only on the photograph, a woman identified as the attorney Claire Vincent herself.