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I glance across the ballroom again. Layla has changed direction.

Still coming closer. Still looking for me.

An investigative journalist who specializes in getting access to people who don't give it.

Well, she's about to have a very good night.

“I know that look,” Myrna mutters.

“What look?”

“The one that makes me wonder whether I should call legal now and save time.”

I grin. She purses her lips.

“So, what is your plan? You're going to walk over there and what? Charm her into telling you why she's investigating your grandfather?”

“Something like that.”

Myrna stares at me. Then understanding dawns. Her eyes narrow.

“You're going to seduce her.”

“I didn't say that.”

“You didn't have to.”

Fair.

I look at Layla again.

She's closer now, giving me another glimpse of those hazel eyes as she turns her head.

Fuck.

The woman is gorgeous. Soft in all the places that make my palms itch to touch. Glossy hair framing a face I already want to see without that guarded expression. A mouth that has inspired several decidedly unprofessional thoughts in the last ten minutes.

Seduction wouldn't exactly require a great personal sacrifice.

Besides, charm is simply another form of leverage.

People tell you things when they like you.

They tell you more when they trust you.

And attraction? Attraction makes otherwise intelligent people do remarkably stupid things.

I've witnessed it often enough.

I've just never been the one stupid enough to confuse it with anything meaningful.

I’ll flirt. Buy her a drink. Let her believe she's getting closer to the elusive Mitchell Knight while I figure out exactly what she knows.

Dinner if necessary. A few strategically placed smiles.

Maybe more.

My gaze drops briefly to her mouth.