Shayne turned slowly and studied her for a moment. He said, “I’ve never seen you before, baby, but you look good.” His steady gaze went over her body. “Even with clothes on.”
“How dare you!” she exploded. There was maturity and courage in her uplifted chin and in the dark eyes that met his with angry challenge.
“Hold it,” Shayne ordered. “Stand where you are and let’s have a better look at you in the light.”
She wore a tailored suit of light material, beige or sun tan in color, that fitted her trim figure well. A vivid-yellow scarf was fluffed out under her chin. Her brown hair was tousled, giving her a youthful appearance.
“Well, what have you to say for yourself?” she asked curtly.
“Just this. My apartment is number one-sixteen. I live here. I don’t know your Ralph and I don’t know you. Have a drink?”
“I–I could use one,” she stammered.
Shayne’s back was turned while he filled the glasses with water. He swung around with them in his hands.
“How could there be a mistake?” she stormed. “The key fitted your door perfectly. The whole place is exactly the way it was described to me. It must be Ralph’s place.”
“It isn’t,” he said shortly, moving toward her. She stepped aside to let him pass into the living-room where he set the glasses on the battered oak desk. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Maybe we can make some sense out of this if we work at it over a drink. Cognac all right for you?” he added on his way to the liquor cabinet.