Berni shot up from the couch. “I know what I’m going to do!”

“Put out a contract on Dumb Ass for me?” Jen said glumly.

“I’m going to hire Piper to find Howard!”

Piper regarded her with dismay. “Berni, that’s not—”

“I’ll pay you. I’ve been looking for something special to spend my income tax refund on. Nothing could be more special than this.”

“Berni, I couldn’t take your money. Howard had a—”

Another knock sounded on the door, this one more forceful than the others. No one had buzzed her condo, and her usual visitors were already here. She set down her beer, made her way across the carpet, and turned the knob.

He filled the doorway—all long muscles, big shoulders, and powerful chest.

“Hello, Esmerelda.”

3

The barbarian was at her gate. Piper’s stomach plummeted. “How did you get in the building?”

He regarded her with the golden-brown eyes of a wolf ready to devour his prey, not because the wolf was hungry, but just for the hell of it. “Your downstairs neighbors are Stars fans.”

They weren’t the only ones. Berni squawked as though she’d laid an egg. “Cooper Graham!” She jumped up from the couch, agile as a teenager. “Oh, I wish Howard was here! Oh, my goodness.”

Cooper tipped his head to her. “Ma’am.”

“Howard was a Bears fan like Piper,” Berni told him, “but I was born in the western ’burbs in the days when hardly anybody lived out there. I’m Berni Berkovitz. Bernadette, really. I’ve been a Stars fan from the beginning. And Howard always rooted for the Stars. Unless they were playing the Bears,” she amended.

“Understandable.” He was all celebrity graciousness, waiting patiently as she rambled on. Jen, in the meantime, crossed her very shapely legs, dangled her pump from one toe, and swished her dark hair away from her face, waiting to be noticed. Amber, however, was mystified. She could name every obscure composer from the past four centuries, but she barely knew Chicago even had professional sports teams.

Berni was still gushing. “Oh, my, Piper. You said you had an important client, but I had no idea . . .”

“I’m not a client of Ms. Dove’s.” Cooper stomped on her name as if it were a cockroach. “I’m the person she was hired to investigate.”

Thank you, Officer Hottie, for your big mouth.

Berni sputtered, then turned accusing eyes on Piper. “Really, Piper? Why were you investigating Cooper?”

While Piper tried to unlock her jaw, Jen rose gracefully from the couch. “Jennifer MacLeish. Channel Eight weather. We met at the Children’s Charities Holly Ball last year, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“Of course, I do.” His hand engulfed hers. “It’s good to see you again, Ms. MacLeish. Although I can’t say much for the company you keep.”

Amber dashed toward the door. “I’ll leave.”

“Not you, Amber,” Jen said. “He’s talking about Piper.”

Graham nodded. “That’s true.”

Piper took a slug of beer, wishing it were the Stoli.

Berni couldn’t stand Amber’s ignorance. “Amber, this is Cooper Graham. He’s one of the most famous football players in the world. Even you have to have heard of him.”

“Oh, I’m sure I have,” Amber said, sure of no such thing.

“Amber sings with the Lyric,” Jen explained. “She’s both clueless and amazing.”

“I’ll bet I’ve heard you,” Graham said.

Fat chance, Piper thought. Graham would no more darken the halls of the Lyric Opera than he would throw a deliberate interception.

“Ladies, as much as I’ve enjoyed meeting you, I need to talk to Ms. Dove”—another cockroach stomped into oblivion—“about a business matter.”

Amber began to turn to the door, then stopped and moved next to Piper. Jen did the same thing. “Maybe we can help,” she said firmly.

Girlfriends stuck together, and none of them were leaving until Piper gave the word. With the greatest reluctance, Berni joined them. They were a unit: a ballsy television meteorologist, a Korean opera singer with the voice of an angel, and the number one Stars football fangirl. How screwed up could Piper’s life be when she had friends like this?

“It’s okay,” she said. “I can handle it.”

“Are you sure?” This came from Amber, who suddenly looked as formidable as Wagner’s Brünnhilde.

Not sure at all, but Piper nodded. “It’s business.”

“I’m certain this is a simple misunderstanding,” Berni said, and then, in a pseudo-whisper, “I’ll leave a retainer check in your mailbox, Piper. That’s how it’s done, right?”

“No check, Berni. We’ll talk tomorrow.” After today, what was one more challenge?

“Piper?” Jen said.

As much as Piper appreciated their concern, she couldn’t let Graham see her as a weakling. She forced a lazy wave toward the door. “Later.”

On her way out, Berni regarded Graham. “Piper is a very good person.”

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Berkovitz,” he said.

She touched his arm. “I make an excellent brisket. If you ever get hungry for brisket, you let me know.”

He gave her his odious fan-smile. “I’ll do that.”

“Or my divinity fudge if you’ve got a sweet tooth.”

He smiled, the door closed behind them, and his affability vanished. Piper’s only defense was a strong offense. She set her shoulders and charged toward him. “My surveillance was legal. Yes, going into the club could be a gray area, but Spiral is a public space, and you’d have to prove that my presence caused you extreme emotional distress. Somehow I don’t think a judge would buy that from a former MVP.”

He loomed over her, six feet three to her five feet six. “Who hired you?”

She straightened her spine, trying to gain another inch of height. “I can’t tell you that. But I will say that it’s no one who wishes you harm.”

“Why don’t I find that comforting?”

“It’s the truth.”