Chapter Eight

When the door slid open with a ding, she stepped out onto the rooftop garden where lounge chairs were clustered around various glass tables and a bartender was waiting eagerly behind a long, oak bar. The hostess, a young woman wearing a black cocktail dress, her blond hair slicked up into a high ponytail, greeted them then escorted them to a table near the glass wall that lined the perimeter.

As they sat, Nate asked her for two coffees, and Mira mentioned she would like cream and sugar in hers. The hostess returned with their drinks a minute later.

“So did you want to start, or should I?” she asked.

“Ladies first,” he said with an amused smile.

“Good,” she said, gathering her thoughts and trying not to get sucked into his alluring looks. He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head and eyeing her with interest that seemed to go far beyond the points she was preparing to make.

“The Starlight trench,” she began, “runs through Bellevue, weaving between schools and residential home