Nancy looked down at her jean shorts and university t-shirt in dismay. "Can I have ten minutes to prepare?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound as flustered as she felt.

"Of course. I'll inform the driver."

"Thank—" you, Nancy completed quietly as the call clicked off.

Hurriedly Nancy gathered her research notes into an organized pile and put it into her laptop bag, just in case housekeeping or anyone else happened to get into her room. She frantically searched through her luggage and recent purchases, and settled on the black pencil skirt with a blue ruched top that clung to her curves. After the hasty reapplication of her makeup, she gave herself a once-over, and was pleased by what she saw. She looked professional, but a little alluring too; perfect for her vaguely airheaded Ann Mallory persona. She grabbed her crossbody purse and slipped back into her pumps, wincing a little as she did.

If Humphrey returned and didn't know where she was...

Nancy called just to let him know that she was going to see Nickerson. She didn't like that they were meeting after hours, that they would likely be alone, that the office would likely be empty—

Although that thought sent a shiver down her spine.

After four rings, her call went to Humphrey's voicemail. "Nickerson called and wants me to interview him in person," she said. "If I get in trouble I'll call you, but if you don't hear from me by... oh, two hours from now, definitely call me. Hope your interview with Cantoni is going well."

Even so late in the day, the temperature outdoors was almost oppressively hot, and Nancy was glad she had opted not to wear any pantyhose. A black Lincoln Towncar was parked in the drop-off area in front of the hotel, the driver standing at the door.

"Ms. Mallory?"

Nancy nodded, and was grateful when the bellhop outside didn't bat an eyelash. She and Humphrey had checked in under their real names, but she doubted the bellhop remembered their arrival or their names anyway.

The interior of the car was sumptuous. The seats were upholstered in leather, and everything looked spotless. Even the luxury of the car, however, couldn't make them move any faster in the congestion and traffic, and more than a few times only the driver's skillful maneuvering seemed to keep them out of a horrific accident. Nancy kept an eye on her cell phone, waiting for Humphrey to call or text her upon receipt of her voicemail, but her phone stayed silent.

You're being an idiot, she told herself again. This is a situation out of your control and only Humphrey has any idea of where you possibly could be—and that's only once he checks his voicemail. Foolish, foolish.

Keeping her expression impassive, Nancy reached into her purse and felt for the small can of pepper spray she kept there. It wasn't much, but it would work. All she needed was the element of surprise and some rapid judo moves.

The driver pulled up in front of the office building where she and Humphrey had met Nickerson the day before, and Nancy recognized the same administrative assistant standing out front. With a polite smile, the brunette ushered Nancy inside and to the elevator. The lobby's lighting was muted after hours, and the building itself seemed quiet.

Nancy was surprised when the assistant pressed the button for the topmost story. "Are we going to the office?"

The other woman shook her head. "The roof. I hope you don't get airsick."

Nancy blinked. "I—I don't," she said, shaking her head. Her misgivings were only growing stronger.

The brunette opened the roof access door, revealing a helicopter that was standing, waiting. "The helicopter will take you to Mr. Nickerson," the assistant explained.

For a few seconds Nancy stood, considering. At least Humphrey would have some chance of finding her if she stayed at Nickerson's office building. Once she boarded the helicopter, though, she could end up anywhere, and definitely in infinitely more danger.

"And bring me back?" Nancy finally asked.

The assistant nodded. "Of course," she said, and her keen eyes sparkled. "Whenever that might be."

Once Nancy figured out the implication, she blushed a little, then turned and headed for the helicopter without another word.

The small craft moved easily over the city's congestion and traffic, and Nancy couldn't help but marvel at the view. While she was instrument rated for both small aircraft and helicopters, she hadn't seen the city from one before, and the view was stunning. They headed east, but the longer the flight was, the more violently her stomach churned, and she was glad that she hadn't eaten dinner before she had received the call. She had never been prone to airsickness or motion sickness before, but her nerves were getting the better of her.

The helicopter touched down at a small helipad near a marina, and when another assistant escorted her to a berth, Nancy's stomach flipped. A large, beautiful yacht was in the slip, and she couldn't help wondering if the choice was an intentional allusion to Kate's death, and possibly her own fate if she continued her investigation.

Then Nickerson appeared on deck, and Nancy's heart was in her throat at the sight of him. He looked relaxed and confident, in a pair of tailored grey slacks and a white button-down, and every bit as drop-dead handsome as she remembered. "Glad you were able to make it out," he called, waving her on board with a smile that made her knees feel weak.

Nancy fought the urge to reach for her phone and check it one last time. She hadn't felt it vibrate or ring, though; Humphrey apparently hadn't checked his voicemail yet. She swallowed hard and went on board.

"So is this yours?"

Nickerson nodded with a smile. "She's all mine. And beautiful, if I do say so myself."

Nancy nodded in agreement. "Your upper speed has to be, what—nineteen, twenty knots? Unless you've put in a custom engine."

Nickerson raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "I have," he told her. "Haven't really had the chance to take her out and give her a good test run yet, though. I hope you haven't had dinner."

"I haven't," she confirmed, crossing her arms. "I only had a few questions to ask you, though, and I really didn't mean for you to go to all this inconvenience; we could have done this over the phone."

"Oh?" he replied with a smile, then glanced down at her outfit. "Let's just say that I wanted to give this... my personal attention."

Nancy shook her head. "Mr. Nickerson," she began, feeling that damned blush begin to creep up her cheeks again.

"Please, call me Ned." He opened the door to the cabin and gestured for her to follow. "Ms. Mallory."

Something in the way he said her assumed name tipped Nancy off, and while a part of her was afraid to follow him inside, another part of her reasoned that if he had wanted to kill her, he had already had more than ample opportunity to do so. She walked slowly, anyway, and kept her body angled toward his so she could keep him in sight.

It was hard to take her eyes off him, regardless. Every time their gazes met, she felt both intimately aware of every beat of her own heart, every blush—and like she was outside herself.

"I've done some research on you," she said neutrally, as he gestured for her to take a seat on a plush, overstuffed bench beside a gleaming wooden dinner table.

"And I've done some on you as well," he replied before she could finish, and when his dark-eyed gaze locked to hers, she found herself entirely speechless. "Just finished your second year at University of Chicago, twenty years old, only daughter of universally respected criminal defense attorney Carson Drew. Majoring in political science even though you had a very impressive career as an amateur detective before you had even entered college. And, not entirely coincidentally, Carson Drew has been retained to defend Mark Armstruther against potential charges in the case of Kate Gordon's murder."

Nancy swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and tilted her head, her gaze still locked to Ned's. While it was almost a relief to not maintain her cover anymore, she still found the intensity of Ned's gaze unnerving, almost disarming, and the speed with which he had discovered her true identity made her wonder how many of the other suspects had as well.

"So you wouldn't mind telling me about what you did and witnessed the night of Kate Gordon's murder."

Ned had just opened his mouth when the sudden throb of engines made Nancy stand up, alarmed. "Where—"

Ned held up his hand, palm outward. "Relax," he said. "I told you, I haven't had a chance to take her out yet. But I'll be sure to have you back by bedtime, if that's what you're worried about."

Just hearing him speak the word bed made her feel almost flustered again. "You're sure."

He nodded. "Definitely. My chef is preparing our dinner as we speak. We'll just take a nice little trip."

Slowly Nancy sat down again, and when she realized she had a death-grip on her purse, she made herself release it. "Okay," she said reluctantly. "But if you know so much about me, I'm sure you know that I... well, I'm prepared to defend myself."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he told her, his voice low.

Nancy took a long breath. "So what happened that night?"

Ned sat back, and Nancy studied him closely, looking for any tell or sign that he was about to lie to her. "Seriously, relax," he said. "I honestly didn't invite you out here to—to attack you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

"What..." When he glanced down at her folded arms, Nancy did too, and reluctantly relaxed them from the defensive posture. She couldn't help it; he was a suspect, and her guard was up.

Doubly so, because he seemed to be able to cut through it so easily.

"After the meeting on Carlton's yacht that night—"

Nancy couldn't help it. "What was the topic of the meeting?"

"I can't discuss that." While he said it with a straight face and in all seriousness, his expression lightened a little when she frowned. "I'm sorry. It's confidential."

"I understand."

He paused for a moment. "After the meeting ended, we had decided that we'd need to have another, and we were prepared to stay overnight and tackle it again in the morning."

"Two questions," Nancy said. "First, I know you can't discuss the topic, but was Mark a dissenting vote, and was his the only one? Second, has the topic been... settled?"

"To answer your second question first, no, a decision hasn't been made. We decided to put it on hold until Carlton felt—well, until..." He made a gesture, and Nancy nodded in understanding. Until he was ready to go back to work after his daughter's death. "To the other... are you asking for confirmation of something he's already told you?"

Nancy paused for a moment, but since Ned had already guessed the reason, she nodded slowly. She wasn't breaking confidentiality because Ned had been there during the meeting in question, or at least she was pretty sure that logic would hold.

Ned let out a long sigh. "Yes. He was."

Nancy leaned forward, her gaze locked to his face. "Was the meeting to discuss a hostile takeover of the company?"

"You know I can't tell you that." Nancy was just a little amused when Ned's gaze flicked to her cleavage, then back up to her face again.

"It wasn't," she decided.

"Oh?"

The corner of her mouth turned up in a faint smile. "No sign of shocked surprise on your face."

"So now you're playing human lie detector, Miss Drew?"

Nancy propped her chin in her hand. "Sometimes. So, after the meeting..."

His grin became a smile, but his eyes were still bright and fixed on her. "So after the meeting I went back to my stateroom to check some emails."

"Alone?"

He nodded. "I remember hearing the shot, but I told myself it couldn't have been what it sounded like. I dismissed it. I hate that, but from what they told me, as soon as I heard it, she was dead. Even if I'd gone to check on it immediately..." He still shook his head, though.

"And then what happened?"

"Maybe five or six minutes later, I think? I heard something was wrong. Running, people shouting. Blood on Carlton's hands. He... he kept saying it was going to be all right until it was clear that she was beyond help. Then..."

Nancy waited a moment, as Ned frowned. "Were you and Kate close? I know you said you didn't know her very well, but I thought maybe you had seen her outside work...?"

Ned shook his head. "She seemed honest and like a pretty decent person, as decent as anyone is in this business. Maybe a little too sympathetic sometimes, but it's too easy to go the other way. And she had her father's ear, that was for sure. He trusted her immensely, but I'm sure you know he intended to pass on the controlling partnership to her."

Nancy nodded. "But the matter under discussion, you said Kate didn't dissent from the rest of the group's opinion? She and Carlton and the rest of you were in agreement about whatever it was?"

Ned was quiet for a moment. "Has anyone told you that you have the most gorgeous eyes?"

"You don't want to talk about it, I get that, but I'm trying to find a motive here..."

"They're this beautiful perfect shade of sapphire blue."

Nancy pursed her lips, hoping that she could keep herself from blushing. He was studying her so intensely. "If Kate wasn't close to you, was she close to anyone else in the group, other than her father?"

Ned shrugged. "I can't really say. I'll be honest with you, once I set my attention on my current project, I devoted a lot of my time and energy toward it—"

"The clean energy initiative?"

He nodded, his lips curving up again. "You really did some research," he said appreciatively.

"Of course I did."

"I'm flattered, Miss Drew."

She shook her head. "Don't be. I've been doing a lot of research on the entire group."

"Because I'm... am I actually a suspect in this?"

Nancy dipped her head once. "Everyone on the boat is a suspect. Except Kate, because I'm given to understand no GSR was found on her hands—that's—"

"Gunshot residue," Ned said with a tilt of his head, that same incredulous grin on his face. "Oh, this is—Wow."

"Someone killed Kate Gordon, and for all I know, you are that person."

Ned raised his eyebrows. "So when a person you think might very well be a murderer asks you to dinner, on his yacht, you just go along with it?"

"I can defend myself," she replied, crossing her arms again.

"I'm sure you can, Miss Drew. So you've told your boyfriend where you are—"

"He's not my boyfriend," Nancy replied, immediately. "And of course he knows."

"Bullshit," Ned replied. "To the second, not the first. You looked like you wanted to punch him when he walked back in from his bathroom break, that was for sure."

Nancy swallowed her response. "I weighed the risks and thought you were more likely to try to—to seduce me tonight, than to kill me and toss me overboard," she told him, trying to keep her face impassive.

"Try?" he repeated, and damn it, this time that blush really did rise in her cheeks. "The night is young. Who says we have to limit our options to just one?"

Nancy glanced down, then cleared her throat when her gaze met his again. Damn him, he looked cool and calm, his gaze intent on hers, always on her. And those eyes. Holy God, she could drown so easily in those eyes.

He smiled again. "So what was my motive, Nancy? Why did I kill Kate Gordon?"

"Well, you've been trying your best to convince me that the two of you weren't dating, so you might have had a secret relationship. Or maybe you mistook her for someone else that night and killed her by mistake, but you can't admit it because that would implicate you."

"You mean I mistook her for the only other woman on the boat, a blonde ten years older than Kate, and easily four inches shorter?" Ned crossed his arms and tilted his head, but that same almost teasing smile was on his face. "Sounds like a good theory."

Nancy made a face at him. "Kate had her father's ear, you said," she continued. "Maybe Kate had changed her mind and was going along with whatever Mark's objection was, but you had to kill her before she attempted to sway her father and the rest of the partners."

"So I needed to both kill Kate and discredit Mark at the same time," Ned mused. "Because, if I really am a criminal mastermind, that's been my plan all along. Of course I wanted to get Mark out of the way so I could pass the vote; while he's under suspicion of Kate's death, of course he's on leave and we all give lip service to our assurances that we totally support him and believe he had nothing to do with this." Ned leaned forward. "Because it's easier, after all. If Mark did this, then he'll be arrested, tried, and put away, but if it's anyone else, someone else in the group, a business partner..."

Nancy folded her arms. "So if it wasn't you, tell me who had the motive to do this. Who hated either Kate or Mark enough to do this—and if this really was done just to discredit Mark, that really seems like overkill." She grimaced. "No pun intended."

"Besides, if I—or any other member of the group—wanted Mark dead, I should think he'd be dead," Ned pointed out. "After all, apparently someone had both motive and means."

"But maybe not opportunity." Nancy could feel that same exhilaration that came over her whenever she was on a roll.

Just then, as Ned was opening his mouth again, the inner door opened, and a man in a white chef's coat entered. "Dinner is served," he announced with a smile. "I hope you both enjoy."

It took Ned a second to refocus. "Thank you, Louis. We'll be right there. In the salon?"

Louis nodded. "Just as you asked."

The sun had been setting as Nancy approached the yacht, and in the time they had been talking, night had fallen. Ned escorted her to the salon, which boasted an almost panoramic view of the ocean around them. She had grown accustomed to the throbbing of the engines, but being able to see their almost eerily dark surroundings—pinpricks of light marked other crafts, but they were distant, and it was as though she and Ned truly were alone for miles around, with only his silent staff as occasional chaperones.

As he had pointed out, if she truly did believe he was responsible for Kate's death, she had taken a huge risk. He could easily overpower her and kill her, especially if he were armed.

But she didn't sense that in him. She usually trusted her own instincts, but when she was in his presence, she felt only an overwhelming nervousness, and it wasn't because she didn't trust him. If anything, she felt the opposite. Just the lightest contact between them when he cupped her elbow and walked with her into the salon was enough to send her heart speeding.

It was hard to think clearly around him. It was hard to discuss the case, to act impassive, when she almost ached to touch him. She felt so incredibly naive, drunk with wonder and desire, when she looked at him.

No one, no one, in her entire life, had ever made her feel that way.

Nancy forced herself to focus on the case again as he pulled out a chair for her. The lighting in the salon had been dimmed, and the room was paneled in rich, warm polished wood. The carpet and upholstery were pale blue, and the table was covered in a white line tablecloth. A pair of lit candles in brass candlesticks served as the centerpiece.

Ned handed her a black napkin, which she draped over her lap with an appreciative smile. His manners were impeccable, and despite herself, she found she was utterly charmed by that. He took the seat opposite her.

"I hope you're hungry," he said. "I have a feeling that Louis may very well have outdone himself this time."

Nancy smiled again, then glanced up as Louis entered, another white-jacketed assistant with him carrying two covered plates. One was placed in front of each of them, and the covers removed with a flourish.

"For the first course," Louis announced, "we have oven-roasted hen of the woods with steamed mussels and toasted pistachios."

Nancy looked down at her plate, fighting to keep her expression impassive. It looked as beautiful as any plate she had seen in a stylish restaurant, and when she forked the first bite into her mouth, she couldn't keep herself from closing her eyes in bliss.

"Good, isn't it," Ned said with a smile. "Louis is amazing. I can't even count the number of times people have tried to poach him after I've entertained."

Nancy swallowed her first bite and somehow kept herself from moaning. "He's worth every penny," she told Ned. "If I had him cooking for me, I don't know how I'd be able to stay in my wardrobe for long."

"Want to know my secret?" Ned winked. "A very well-equipped gym."

For the second course, Louis brought out a wine-poached foie gras with baby fennel and a savory caramel. The third course was baked quail with potatoes au gratin, asparagus and a light lemon-garlic sauce. When it was time for dessert, Nancy wasn't sure how she would be able to eat another bite, but then she saw the individual pear tartlets topped with hand-whipped cream and slivered honey-roasted almonds, and she couldn't turn down a taste.

As Nancy sat back once their dessert plates had been whisked away, she chuckled.

"What?"

"I was just thinking that if I've misjudged you and this was my last meal... well, at least it was a damned good one."

Ned grinned. "I'm sure Louis will be glad to hear it. I told him that if he didn't utterly stun you, I'd ship him off to the Navy."

"You did not."

"I did at least think about it." Ned's eyes were twinkling in the candlelight, and the mood between them had become far too intimate, too familiar. Nancy glanced down, but all too quickly she was looking up at him again, her heart in her throat. The butterflies in her stomach had meant she hadn't even been able to finish all of any plate, and she knew she would need to go soon, but she could talk to him all night, easily.

He had known Kate. He could be either an invaluable resource, or the source of intentional misinformation, if he was responsible for Kate's death.

Or, Nancy considered, he was complicit without being directly responsible; that was always a possibility, too. She was reminded of other scenarios she had read about, other cases where both everyone and no one seemed to have a motive.

Her cell phone chirped in her purse, and Nancy glanced over at it. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's all right. I'll be on the deck, if you need some privacy."

Nancy gave him a grateful smile, pulling out her phone once she was alone. She saw a missed voicemail from Humphrey, and when she checked it, his voice was garbled, but clear enough for her to understand the gist. He was worried about her, and back at the hotel.

Nancy composed a brief text message back. I'm fine, I'll see you back at the hotel. I'll let you know when I'm on the way there. Everything OK. She had to attempt to send it three times before it went through, though, and she hoped it actually had.

Nancy dabbed at her lips one last time with her napkin, reapplied her lipstick, and blew out the candles before she joined Ned on the deck. The view was spectacular from the inside, but amazing from the outside.

"You weren't kidding about what you told Louis, were you," Nancy commented. She could see a silver bucket of ice, two empty flutes, the neck of a champagne bottle in the bucket.

"I might have been," Ned said, with a half-smile. "I have to say, this has definitely been a first ride to remember."

Nancy was glad that the darkness was probably enough to hide her blush. "Thank you for dinner. It was spectacular. And please pass my compliments on to the chef."

"I will. Champagne?"

Nancy's gaze went from the bottle to Ned's face. "As lovely as tonight has been, I really should be getting back," she told him.

"Ahh. The boyfriend called?"

"The associate called," she corrected him, crossing her arms. "And I think you said you'd have me back by bedtime."

"There are beds on board," he told her with a smile, but he glanced up, then made a twirling gesture with his hand. Almost immediately Nancy heard the throb of the engines slow.

"Thank you."

"You never answered me. Champagne?"

She gave him a sardonic smile. "Are you trying to ply me with liquor, Mr. Nickerson?"

"You haven't even begun to see me ply," he teased her in return, but she could hear the challenge in his voice. "Nancy."

After a deep breath, Nancy gave him a slight nod. "One," she told him, reluctantly.

She wouldn't even drink around Humphrey, and she had known him most of her life. Nancy didn't understand why, but the more time she spent with Ned, the less she believed the man pouring her a flute of champagne would ever hurt her, or take advantage of her. He just didn't seem like that kind of person.

But she couldn't know. Not this quickly.

They were on the way back to the mainland, and a part of her was sorry that she would soon be leaving him. They sat down with their champagne on one of the benches on the deck, the wind blowing through her honey-gold hair. The stars glittered coldly overhead.

"It's so beautiful out here."

"It really is," he agreed, but when she glanced at him, she saw he was gazing directly at her. She looked down, focusing on her champagne flute instead.

"How did you figure out who I was so quickly?" she asked, then looked up again. "Where did I slip up?"

Ned smiled. "You didn't," he told her. "It wasn't that."

"So Humphrey did?"

Ned shook his head. "From the first second I set eyes on you, I knew that I needed to get to know you better," he murmured. "I wanted to surprise you with a little gift at your hotel, but I found that Ann Mallory wasn't registered there. A young woman matching her description named Nancy Drew was, though."

Nancy was sure she was blushing again. "Have you told your partners at Bennett Group?"

Ned shook his head. "I haven't."

"Can I ask you... not to mention it? I'm still narrowing down my suspect list, and I'm afraid that if they knew I was representing Mark's interests, they might not be as forthcoming with information. Especially the one of you who decided to frame him for murder."

"That's a large favor to ask," Ned told her solemnly, then reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The lightest brush of the ball of his thumb against her cheek made Nancy glad she was sitting down; the euphoria she felt, combined with the lightness from the champagne, made her weak in the knees.

"Okay," he finally agreed. "But I might just ask a favor in return."

Nancy covered her momentary speechlessness at the intensity in his gaze by taking a sip of champagne. "So as we were saying, someone else clearly had the means, motive, and opportunity to kill Kate, and possibly the means and motive to go after Mark as well." She paused. "I have a hunch that you're generally very perceptive—everything I read about you said you had an uncanny instinct for investing, and while you may not know all your partners as well as your best friends, I don't think you would be working with them unless you'd sized them up."

Ned nodded, a faint smile still lingering on his lips. "I have," he said. "And my instincts when it comes to people are generally good. Like you, for instance."

Nancy glanced down again, trying to keep herself from smiling. "So who would you guess is behind this? Assuming, of course, it isn't you."

"Oh, Miss Drew, I insist that you keep me on the suspect list," he told her, reaching for the champagne bottle again, raising his eyebrows at her after he refilled his own flute. "And that you interview me again, often. You know, we really must have a toast. To imperfect beginnings."

Nancy shook her head, tucking another lock of hair back behind her ear, but handed over her flute for a refill anyway. Her gaze was locked to his as they clicked glasses.

"To imperfect beginnings," she repeated, then took a sip.

They discussed the case until the yacht began to slow as it approached the marina. Nancy felt a pang in her heart as the pilot expertly maneuvered the craft into her berth. Her second flute of champagne had been finished some time ago, and while her mind was racing a hundred miles an hour thanks to her discussion with Ned, she hated that their night was coming to an end.

Ned offered her a hand up, and Nancy's stomach flipped as she accepted his hand and stood. "Thank you for accepting my invitation, and proving unparalleled company," he said, his head tipped down so he could gaze directly into her eyes.

"And thank you," she murmured. "I'd be most obliged if you continue to not kill me."

Ned chuckled and squeezed her hand, but kept his grip on her. "I think I've decided on what I'll accept as payment for the favor you asked," he told her. "For keeping your secret. Do you like to dance, Miss Drew?"

Nancy searched his eyes. "With the right partner," she replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Mmm. I'd be most obliged," he said, with a ludicrous gesture, "if you would clear your calendar for Saturday night."

"I'll see what I can do," she said with a smile. "It's not very gallant to blackmail a poor, defenseless girl who is depending on your discretion, sir."

"It isn't," he agreed. "But you are no poor, defenseless girl. Nevertheless, you can definitely depend on my discretion. I am very discreet."

The flush in her cheeks deepened. "I'm sure you are," she murmured, and looked down.

He escorted her to the front of the boat, and Nancy made sure she had her purse. When Ned reached for her hand again, she found a small part of herself wishing that he would ask her to stay, for just a little while longer. She already knew that she wouldn't have the strength to turn him down, and she hated that.

"Saturday," he said, lifting her hand to his face, and he brushed a kiss against her knuckles, his gaze locked to hers.

Nancy suppressed the shiver she felt go down her spine. "Goodnight, Mr. Nickerson."

"Until we meet again, Miss Drew."