Adam put his arm around her shoulders and drew Whitney to him. “Don’t jump to conclusions. This is merely police procedure. We’re eliminating things.”

She pulled out of his embrace and jumped to her feet. “Let’s check it out. I’ll look for the keys right now.”

“Okay,” he agreed even though it was late. “There’s one other thing.”

Whitney must have picked up on the troubled note in his voice. “What? Tell me!”

“Guys on the vice squad told Gus that they knew your cousin. Miranda had never been arrested, but they’d seen her several times when they went out to Saffron Blue. It’s a nightclub.”

Whitney frowned, puzzled. “She never mentioned waitressing there.”

“She wasn’t waiting tables. Miranda worked as a stripper.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

WHITNEY STOOD NEXT to Adam and gazed at the trunk of Miranda’s Volvo.

“I don’t smell anything,” Adam said, his voice almost a whisper.

They’d driven to San Diego’s Lindbergh Field in Adam’s Rava. It hadn’t been difficult to find the metered parking space where her cousin had parked her car. They’d pulled up behind the vehicle and had gotten out, leaving all the dogs in the SUV.

“Smell?”

“A dead body-”

“Okay. I get it.” Her stomach did a slow backflip as she imagined Miranda crammed into the trunk. Please, God, don’t let Miranda be in there, she silently prayed. Whitney’s neck muscles quivered as she watched Adam insert the key she’d found in the kitchen drawer of the cottage into the trunk.

The lid flew open.

Whitney braced herself and peered inside. “It’s empty.” Thank you, God. Miranda must be alive somewhere, she decided.

Adam asked, “Feel better?”

Whitney managed a nod and leaned toward him slightly. She suddenly felt light-headed. Relief or fear? Both. She was relieved that Miranda wasn’t in the trunk of the car, but after finding out her cousin had worked as a stripper, Whitney’s anxiety had increased. Had Miranda’s job gotten her into so much trouble that she’d lied to her only living relative and fled?

Suddenly, Whitney recalled the way Miranda had acted the night she’d left. Miranda had hugged her fiercely…almost as if she had been saying goodbye forever. Something about Miranda’s “wedding” story had bothered Whitney from the beginning. At the time, she’d attributed her misgivings to a boyfriend who didn’t want to meet his fiancée’s only relative. Now she wondered if she hadn’t been picking up subtle clues that her cousin was lying.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked.

For an instant she wavered, her blue eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then she drew herself together and nodded. “I’m fine. Just worried about Miranda, is all.”

He slipped his arm around her and brought her close. A little lurch skittered from her heart downward until she felt it in her toes. She was tempted to rest her head against his shoulder but didn’t. Be strong, she told herself. You’ve been through a lot. Don’t get involved with another man so quickly.

He placed a comforting hand on the back of her neck. Her body flushed with hot awareness. Despite all the problems she’d had with Ryan, despite common sense telling her to slow down, despite everything-she wanted Adam Hunter. It was as simple as that.

His mouth met hers, warm, sweet, and her lips parted. One large hand wove through the hair at the back of her neck while the other hand found its way to the lowest reaches of her back and urged her closer and closer until her whole body was flush against his.

Push him away, she ordered her body, but she was powerless to resist temptation. He teased her lips apart with the tip of his tongue. She returned the kiss, her tongue greeting his. The contact sent a bolt of pure pleasure through her entire body and her pulse went haywire, throbbing in intimate, sensitive places.

She ran her hands over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, enjoying the sensation. The woodsy scent of his shaving cream filled her lungs as she clung to him. She knew better than to keep kissing him, but she didn’t have the willpower to stop.

How long had it been since she’d kissed a man with so much passion? She honestly couldn’t remember the last time. Don’t think about Ryan, she warned herself. Live in the moment.

At the sound of an engine, they reluctantly pulled apart. A security officer drove around the corner in a patrol car. Whitney stepped out of Adam’s embrace, a little embarrassed.

“Something wrong?” the man asked.

The airport had closed for the night. Lindbergh Field was located near residential neighborhoods and flights were terminated before midnight to control noise. At this hour the parking lots were deserted. Whitney had no doubt they appeared to be very suspicious.

“No. We’re just checking for Whitney’s cell phone.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “It isn’t here. She must have left it somewhere else.”

“I see,” the man responded, but his tone said he had his doubts.

Whitney and Adam got into the SUV. Opening the door awakened the dogs. Lexi spotted the security patrolman. The retriever decided she was a watchdog. Lexi’s barking incited the others, and a second later they joined in.

“No. Bad.” The stern tone of Whitney’s voice was enough to silence Lexi, but the others kept barking.

Adam turned around. “No!”

The dogs stopped barking. Jasper meekly lay down. Whitney doubted Adam had ever raised his voice to the little dog before this. He started the car and drove away slowly. The security car followed them until they arrived at the pay booth.

Whitney waited until they were on the freeway before suggesting, “Why don’t we go to Saffron Blue? Maybe the other girls or the manager knows something about Miranda.”

“No. The girls will be so busy right now that they won’t take time to spit on you. Most people don’t realize it, but strippers earn nothing but tips.”

“Really? I had no idea. I assumed…” She’d never given strippers much thought until she discovered what Miranda had been doing. The screen in her mind played a sleazy bar filled with smoke and lecherous men. Cheap-looking women with teased hair and bobbling silicone breasts flaunted their bodies on a stage beneath a blaring spotlight.

“Forget your assumptions. This is an upscale club with a hundred-dollar cover charge. The police receive calls to Saffron Blue occasionally. Usually it’s a fight in the parking lot. Jared Cabral doesn’t put up with troublemakers. His bouncers kick them out at the first sign of trouble.”

“Jared Cabral owns Saffron Blue?”

Adam turned off La Jolla Parkway onto Torrey Pines Road. “Yes. Cabral owns eight clubs-last I heard. Southern California, Arizona and Vegas. All cater to upscale clientele. Gambling’s legal in his Vegas clubs. The others have illegal high-stakes games going most nights in a private room.”

“Illegal gambling and fights. I suppose there are drugs around, too.”

“Undoubtedly, but Cabral keeps illegal activities outside so he won’t be busted.”

A shudder passed through her. “I can’t imagine why Miranda would be working there. She had plenty of money from the insurance policy.”

“Don’t be too sure. If it was in a bank or a brokerage house in the U.S., the money would have shown up on the Total Track report.”

She moistened her dry lips and tried to think clearly. How could she have lost touch with Miranda like this?

“It’s been, what? Almost fourteen years since Miranda received the money?” Adam didn’t wait for a response. “She could have spent it on school, rent, vacations, jewelry, clothes and stuff.”

“I don’t think so. Miranda was working part-time to pay the rent when she was attending junior college. That’s what she told me when she paid some of Mom’s medical bills. She acted as if she still had most of the money.” Whitney thought a moment. “What she gave Mom was less than five thousand dollars.”