Walking through the hotel lobby wearing a Harvard t-shirt much too large for her, Ned's drawstring shorts, glittering peep-toe pumps and elaborate makeup, her hair piled up on her head, and a grin she couldn't seem to repress, Nancy knew she was drawing stares again. She was carrying her gown very carefully, along with her clutch, and she doubtless looked like she was doing the walk of shame.

She didn't care. The euphoria of being around Ned hadn't worn off.

He wanted her. He had wanted her. He was an insanely rich, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome man, and he had practically begged her to spend the night with him.

Bess was going to kill her for turning him down.

Nancy was in the elevator, searching for her room key, when she pulled out her phone and saw two messages waiting. One was from Bess, one from Humphrey. She read the one from Bess first, another grin lighting her face.

Girl u better call me when u get in! I need *details*!

Nancy looked at the time on her phone. For Bess it wasn't quite so late, though. Nancy scrolled down to her next message as she exited the elevator and began to walk down the hall, checking her surroundings first.

Then she considered possibly having the dress taken to the hotel's secure storage, just in case whoever had sent her the note had the bright idea to trash her hotel room.

Think I might have a lead. I'll call u if I get in trouble.

Humphrey had sent her that text while she and Ned had still been at the benefit. Nancy glanced at Humphrey's door before she turned to her own. She didn't hear any noise from within or see a light under the door, but it was late. He was probably already in bed, or out on another one of his informal dates with a secretary. Nancy shrugged. She would talk to him in the morning. She wasn't in the mood to hear his snarky comments about how late she had been out with Ned.

Nancy carefully put the dress back on its hanger and put it in her closet, and sighed with relief as she stepped out of her heels and put them in as well. She headed to the bathroom and removed her makeup and let down her hair.

She still couldn't stop smiling.

She was still wearing Ned's clothes as she slipped off her moderately uncomfortable strapless bra and collapsed onto her bed with her cell phone. She tapped Bess's name in her contact list and listened to the call ring on the other end, wincing as she hoped that her friend hadn't gone to sleep yet.

"Nan! I was starting to give up on hearing from you tonight." Bess yawned. "Is it super-late there?"

"Yeah," Nancy admitted. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah," Bess reassured her. "Hang on, let me go get a soda. Because I swear, you are going to spill. I have been dying to hear this story. You looked so totally gorgeous in that picture you sent!"

"Thanks," Nancy said with a giggle. "And I wouldn't have been without your advice. You're a lifesaver, Bess. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Be easily a quarter less fabulous," Bess teased her back immediately. Nancy could hear something rustling, and the sound of a refrigerator door closing. "Okay, I've got my Diet Coke and some chips just in case. Now start at the beginning."

Nancy rolled onto her back. "Well, I told you a little about the case before I left," she said. "A woman named Kate Gordon was killed during a business meeting on a yacht, and Dad was hired by one of the suspects to defend him. So Humphrey and I came here—"

"With your dad, right? Didn't you say he was coming along?" Bess took a sip of her soda.

"He was, but he's gotten hung up with a grand jury thing and he hasn't been able to make it to New York yet. Anyway, we started interviewing suspects. They're all investors."

"Investors, like boring accountant investors or young cute ones? I guess those are the only kinds," Bess said.

"They're... well, we met four of them the first morning. Three guys, one woman. All at least ten years older than us, most of them more like twenty. I didn't like any of them."

"Just had a bad feeling about them, or did you feel like one of them was the murderer?"

"To be honest, I'm still not sure who the murderer is," Nancy said. "I have a hunch, and I'm going to talk to the man in charge of the investment group as soon as I can to confirm it, but I don't know for sure yet. The woman—"

"What was the murder weapon?"

"Handgun, close range," Nancy told Bess.

"Then it probably wasn't the woman, right? Or maybe it was." Bess sighed. "It's so much nicer when it's a murder attempt, or when the murderer leaves a handkerchief or some huge clue nearby. Or! Surveillance footage?"

Nancy chuckled. Bess had helped her with so many cases that she was just as familiar with the usual evidence checklist as Nancy herself was. "No surveillance footage, Bess, sorry."

"Go on, then. So you were interviewing suspects."

"Right. We had interviewed four and they were all boring and—greedy, and just unpleasant. Humphrey's old friends with the brother of one of them."

"Say no more," Bess sighed. "I can just picture that."

"Anyway, the fifth partner... we walked into his office and I was just dying to get out of my shoes, my feet were hurting so much. I was just ready to get through it so I could start investigating."

"And I don't blame you. A bunch of boring middle-aged people who aren't even cute?" Bess made a dismissive sound.

Nancy chuckled again. "So when we walked into the fifth suspect's office... are you near your computer?"

"I can be. Hang on a sec." Bess grumbled as she found her tablet and plugged it in. "Okay, web browser?"

"Yep. Type in Edmund Nickerson."

Nancy could pinpoint the exact second Bess found a photo of Ned online. "Oh. Holy shit. Is this photoshopped? Is this real?"

"Yeah," Nancy laughed. "He's real."

"Is this guy the fifth investor? And he's worth—he's worth how much?"

Nancy listened to Bess excitedly read the majority of Ned's biography aloud to her. "And he's twenty-seven?"

"Yes," Nancy said.

"Mmmmm. Please tell me you managed to be incredibly seductive and alluring and sophisticated during the interview and he—is he as super-smooth in person as he looks in these pictures?"

"More," Nancy said, smiling. "And he and I didn't have a chance to talk for too long. He gave me his card, though."

Bess paused. "Hang on, I'm searching whether he's gay or not."

"He's not, Bess." Nancy paused. "Well, if he is then he's at least bi."

"And you know that how?" Bess drawled.

"I'd be able to get to that, if you didn't keep interrupting."

"Okay," Bess pouted. "I'll just stare at him and drool quietly to myself while you tell me what happened."

"Well, the next day, I had a few more questions to ask him, so I called and said I was fine interviewing him over the phone, but then his assistant called and said he was ready to talk to me. He sent a car to bring me to him. The car took me to his building, and a helicopter was waiting... to take me to his yacht. His assistant said it would bring me back whenever, and smirked at me like she thought I was just there for some incredibly expensive booty call."

Bess sighed. "I love it. Go on."

"Well, I knew it was the worst idea ever, but I got on the helicopter."

"Nan," Bess interrupted. "I would have shot you if you hadn't gotten on the helicopter. Clearly you've seen this man in person. He's not gorgeous, he's... holy shit. He's like insanely impossibly handsome, times ten."

"I know," Nancy said. "And I had some questions to ask him, so I went out—and I didn't know we were getting on the yacht until the helicopter arrived. And then he said he was happy I had made it out to see him and invited me on board, and when I told him I'd been doing some research on him, he said he had done some on me too. And he said all this stuff that was actually true about me."

"Like underwear size?"

"Like—oh, I was undercover, remember? He had found out all this stuff about me. Who my father is, where I was going to school."

"Ohhhhh." Bess paused. "How long did it take him to break your cover?"

"Less than twenty-four hours."

"And how did he do that? I'm sure you aren't slipping, Drew."

"Well, he wanted to send me a present at my hotel, but I'm registered here under my real name."

"Mmmm. Nice. What kind of present?"

"He didn't say. Maybe it was an invitation to his yacht, considering. So his personal chef made us this incredible four-course dinner, and then he offered me champagne—and I forgot to say that, practically the second I sat down, the yacht started moving at a pretty good clip. So I was stranded with him, this guy who for all I knew was a murderer. I told him I needed to get back, and we talked about the case, and when I asked him to keep my name a secret, he said he would, if I would keep Saturday night available."

"Oooooooh," Bess breathed. "Oh, I like this. Keep going."

"So Friday he sent me that dress. The one I sent you the picture of. He told me that... he wanted me to wear something almost as beautiful as I was."

Bess squealed. "Nan! Oh my God I am so excited for you! You are so incredibly lucky."

Nancy giggled. "Well, after you told me how much it cost, I told him I couldn't possibly accept it, but he insisted. So tonight he sent a car for me and we went to a benefit in a museum downtown, and we danced and had champagne and then he took me to his apartment, and he had his personal chef make us sundaes. Bess, I swear to God, this chef he has? He is... there are no words for how amazing his food is."

"Orgasmic," Bess said promptly. "I mean, I'm guessing here."

Nancy chuckled. "I told Ned I couldn't possibly eat a sundae in that totally gorgeous dress, so he told me I could wear some of his clothes. So I went to his bedroom, alone, and found some of his clothes..."

Nancy had trailed off, debating whether to mention the drawer and its contents, when Bess piped up. "Tell me you went through his medicine cabinet."

"I—didn't, actually," Nancy said. "But I went through his bedside tables just in case he had any... I don't know, secret stuff in there."

"What'd you find, some porn? And I bet you were embarrassed as hell to see it, my innocent best friend," Bess said with a knowing sigh.

"Uh... kind of. Like, condoms and lubricant and... handcuffs, and a... thing..." Nancy was mumbling most of the list, her cheeks flushing.

"A thing?" Bess said immediately, excited. "Like what kind of thing?"

"A... thing like what we saw in that store."

"We saw a lot of things in that store," Bess pointed out, once she figured out Nancy's train of thought. "But, let's see, it's something that clearly shocked the hell out of you, so..." Then her friend started a series of utterly mortifying guesses, each one worse than the last.

"Oh my God, Bess," Nancy gasped out. "No. Ugh, no. A..." She whispered what the item had been.

"Ooooooh," Bess said, delighted. "But, ew, used?"

"It was in a box."

"So probably not, but it sounds like he's got some experience, Nan. And boy, wouldn't I love to give him some more," Bess said wistfully. "An insanely hot man who isn't intimidated by some toys in the bedroom. Please tell me he was flirting with you."

"Oh, he definitely was." Nancy closed her eyes. "When I was about to leave, he kissed me, and he... he asked me to stay with him."

Bess let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my God, really?"

"Yeah. I told him I couldn't, and he said he was going on a business trip but he wanted to see me again Tuesday. Bess... I told him I'd gotten a note warning me off the case, just in case he was the one who sent it, and he told me to be careful, but when I asked if he wanted me to hold off on investigating while he was gone, he said that he wouldn't ask me to do that. That I... wasn't like anyone else he had ever met. He said he wants to help me investigate, but he hates that when I find out who killed Kate, it means I'll be leaving."

Bess squealed again. "Oh my God, I would jump up and down right now if my parents weren't in bed. Nan, that—oh my God! Girl, he is totally falling for you. Holy shit, you have to be the luckiest person I've ever met."

"But what if he isn't?" Nancy asked, rolling onto her belly. She bit her lip. "What if he's the killer and he's staying close to me so he can keep tabs on my investigation, and make sure I never find out he's responsible? What if this is all... all some game?"

"Hmm." Bess considered for a minute. "You've met guys who tried that before," she pointed out. "Does—Ned? Seriously, his name is Ned? That so doesn't match how fucking hot he is, at all—does he seem to be doing some of that same kind of thing? Do you honestly feel like he's playing you?"

Nancy closed her eyes, bowing her head. "No," she murmured. "But I've been fooled before."

Bess paused again. "How do you feel about him?"

Nancy thought about it for a second, then groaned. "Bess, it doesn't matter how I feel about him. Like Humphrey keeps pointing out every twelve seconds, he's a suspect, and I can't trust him!"

"Screw Humphrey," Bess replied promptly. "I mean, not literally, but—Humphrey's an idiot. Look, I know it's not ideal circumstances..."

"That's what he said," Nancy said quietly. "That night we were on his yacht together. A toast to imperfect beginnings."

"Exactly," Bess said. "Okay, so you happen to meet this incredible guy... and who cares how it happened? What matters is how you feel about him. So...?"

Nancy sighed again, reluctant to say anything.

"When he asked you to stay with him tonight, were you tempted?" Bess said quietly.

"Yes," Nancy said softly, and then it all came out in a rush. "When I'm around him—it's like I'm drunk. I just want to stare at him. I just—I want to talk to him, I want to be with him, I want to be around him. I get so nervous when I only think about seeing him. And when we look into each other's eyes... God, I had never felt anything like that. I have never. I thought it was just something stupid, that I was just tired and he caught me off guard, but... it's like that every time I see him. When he touched me, when he kissed me..." Nancy let out a long, frustrated moan.

Bess squealed quietly again. "God," she said. "Sweetheart, you are so falling for him. Are you going to sleep with him?"

"Of course not," Nancy said immediately.

"Why 'of course not'?"

Nancy made an incredulous sound. "We just met! We've known each other less than a week, and..."

"And I know you never believed me when I told you this before, but I think you're starting to get it now. When you know, you know. And the fact that it's happened with someone this—this totally amazing?" Bess sighed in envy.

Nancy buried her head in her pillow and let out a long groan. "And that means I should sleep with him?"

"It's gonna happen sometime," Bess pointed out pragmatically, "and at least he'd know what he was doing. Besides, your first time isn't going to be that awesome. It's... you just get through it, and then the next time is better. So you need to solve this case, tell your dad that you're hanging out with your Aunt Eloise for a week, lock yourself in his place and ride that gorgeous man like a pony."

Nancy let out an embarrassed laugh. "Bess," she protested.

"What?"

Nancy blushed a little. "I just... I always thought my first time would be romantic, and special," she admitted. "With someone I loved, who loved me. It would be sweet..."

"It might be," Bess said. "But, I don't know. I thought I loved Alan, and I don't regret that we took that step. I'm just saying that if I met this Ned guy, if I felt about him the way that you do, and if I knew that he felt something similar for me... you can bet I'd take advantage of it. You won't be in New York forever."

When Nancy protested again that she still wasn't sure he hadn't been involved in the murder, Bess dismissed it, saying that if Nancy's gut feeling was that he wasn't guilty, he probably wasn't. "Is that what you're really afraid of? Honestly?"

"It's a legitimate concern," Nancy said. "If I don't know who did it, I definitely can't eliminate anyone yet."

Bess paused. "It has to be a little scary for you," she guessed. "I mean, I know you've dated a bunch of guys, but you never really seemed to... to click with any of them, the way it sounds like you have with this one. Not to mention you're so independent and just totally kick-ass all by yourself that most guys find you super intimidating."

"They do?"

Bess chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Guys are so easy. Act like you need help, compliment him a lot, make a lot of eye contact and act like he's smart? Piece of cake. But you never do."

Nancy snickered. "Especially if the guy is an idiot who would run at the first sign of danger."

"That doesn't mean he's not good in other ways," Bess pointed out.

"But a guy I couldn't respect, who—who belittles my work or begs me to stop? Ned... he said he knew I could handle myself. He didn't beg me to stop. And when I talked to him about the case, it was—oh God, it was amazing. I really miss when you and George aren't around to help me talk over everything, and talking to Ned..."

"See, you don't believe he's involved," Bess pointed out. "You wouldn't have talked to him about the case if you thought he was."

"He's just so easy to talk to, like we're on the same wavelength..." Nancy sighed again. "And yeah, it is scary," she finally admitted. "I've never felt this way about anyone else, and... oh God, what if he feels the same way?"

"What if he does?" Bess repeated. "If he does, then you owe it to yourself to find out. If you walk away, then it could be from something totally amazing."

After Nancy promised to call Bess if anything else happened, especially with Ned, they wished each other a good night and hung up. Nancy plugged her phone into the charger, then brushed her teeth and turned off the overhead light, lost in thought.

Something Bess had said was sticking with her.

Nancy wouldn't be in New York forever.

The way Bess saw it, Nancy would always regret not exploring the connection she had with Ned, but Nancy let herself think about it. Even if they did feel something for each other, what did it matter? She would be returning to Illinois and college; he would be in New York, where his business was. She remembered Sasha Petrov again, how she had felt about him—and how much of a mistake it would have been for her to hold him back from the life he was meant to lead.

That was after a summer together, Nancy reminded herself. I haven't even known Ned a week—if I can even say that I know him now. And he could still be involved.

Bess had said the trick to attracting a man was being vulnerable, but Nancy wasn't—not until she was around Ned. She felt weak around him. All her self-assurance seemed to drain away the second she looked into his eyes.

Nancy buried her head in the pillow, trying as hard as she could to just dismiss it all from her mind so she could get some sleep, but she couldn't forget how incredible his kisses had felt.

And if she solved the case tomorrow when she went to speak to Carlton... then that would be it. She wouldn't see Ned again. She and Humphrey would return home, and tonight would just be one of those events in her life...

God. She couldn't imagine never kissing him again.

When she found herself just growing more and more upset, she gave up, reached for the remote and turned on the television, flipping through until she found an old British mystery movie.

That stricken look on his face when they had discussed her being close to the end of the case. She understood. She felt the same.

She had no idea when she actually fell asleep. She woke with the television still on, sunlight coming through the gap between the curtains, and when she shifted the remote control fell off the bed. She groaned and pushed herself up to read her alarm clock, then reached for her phone, half expecting to see a message from Humphrey asking when they would be meeting for breakfast.

No new messages from anyone, not even Humphrey.

Apparently he'd had a late night too. She sighed, then pulled herself out of bed.

She was in the shower, already planning what she was going to say to Carlton if he was available, when she realized that she still didn't know what lead Humphrey had been tracking down—and whether he had already talked to Carlton. She hastily dried her hair, then went to her cell phone. If Humphrey was still asleep, she didn't want to wake him with a call.

Hey, got your message. Breakfast?

Nancy sent the text to Humphrey and went back to the bathroom to brush her teeth before she picked up her phone again and called Carlton Gordon's assistant. When she said she only had a few questions to ask him, but they were urgent, the assistant said she would pass that along and call Nancy back. From the tone in her voice, Nancy didn't hold out much hope. Nevertheless, she selected a sleeveless top made of a silky ivory material and stepped into a navy pencil skirt.

She had just pulled the wand out of her tube of mascara when her phone rang. The caller ID told her that Gordon's assistant was calling back. "He has a little time this morning," the assistant reported, almost grudgingly. "Can you do that?"

"I can," Nancy said, thanking the woman after they agreed on a time and location. Quickly she finished applying her makeup, the entire time listening for her phone, but it stayed silent. She checked it just in case. No message from Humphrey.

Have to run to a meeting. I'll let you know when I'm back. Still asleep?

When Humphrey didn't respond, Nancy frowned at her phone. Surely he wasn't sulking and giving her the silent treatment for going out with Ned last night. She couldn't imagine him being so petty. Then again...

She couldn't help it. She didn't have a good feeling about it.

She didn't have time to do anything about it yet, though. She had to rush down to the lobby and catch a cab for her meeting.

Carlton Gordon looked very somber and composed in his dark suit, and Nancy gave him a small smile as they shook hands. "Thank you so much for seeing me on such short notice."

Gordon nodded. "I'm sorry, I don't have long. Can I offer you something to drink?"

Nancy shook her head and took a seat. "I'll get right to the point. From everything I've seen, I truly believe the key to figuring out what happened is that night on the boat, and the topic up for discussion at that meeting."

Carlton shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "The matter is confidential," he said, then glanced up at Nancy.

Nancy nodded. "I understand that, and I know you can't tell me specifically what it was. But I think you can at least tell me this. Was a government contract or project up for discussion?"

Carlton gave her a blank look, but Nancy caught the almost imperceptible shuttering in his face. Pay dirt. "I can't comment," he said, his tone flat.

Nancy took a deep breath. "Did it have anything to do with Interregnum?"

His brow furrowed just slightly. "What's that?"

Nancy tilted her head. "Does it mean anything to you?"

He shook his head slowly, but he still looked like he was lost in thought, much the way Ned had the night before. "Not specifically," he said. "Do you have any other questions, Miss Drew?"

Nancy shook her head. "Not right now. If you happen to think of what Interregnum could mean, please call me."

Once he agreed to do so, Nancy headed back to the hotel, impatiently checking her cell phone. She finally broke down and called Humphrey's cell, but her call immediately went to voicemail. She tried to tell herself that he had just let his phone's battery die and that was why he had never answered her, but she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that. Humphrey had been almost obsessive about making sure his phone was fully charged at all times.

Then she called the hotel's front desk and had the operator put her through to Humphrey's room phone. It rang and rang interminably, until Nancy gave up.

The taxi pulled up at the hotel and Nancy rushed to the front desk. When she and Humphrey had checked in, their reservations had been separate, and she hadn't given him a copy of her room key. She didn't have one of his, either, so she couldn't just go check his room. "Hello," she said to the clerk. "My name is Nancy Drew, and I checked in with Humphrey Corbett. I've been trying his cell and his room phone, but he's not answering, and I'm worried that... well, that he had a little too much to drink last night and might need medical attention," she fibbed. "Could you get someone to open the door for me just so I can make sure he's all right?"

After a little more cajoling, the clerk sent a bellhop up with Nancy in the elevator. Nancy told herself that she was overreacting, that he had just met up with a particularly friendly administrative assistant and spent the night in her hotel room, that she wasn't going to find him passed out, injured—especially if she could have helped him by finding him more quickly.

The bellhop opened the room for her, and the lights were off. Nancy flipped them on, immediately scanning the room. "Humphrey?" she called.

The trash can was full of snack wrappers and empty soda bottles, and while the coverlet was pulled up, she could still see the indention left from Humphrey's body when he had sprawled out to watch television. The housekeeping staff hadn't yet made it by his room. The bathroom door was open, the lights off.

His cell phone charger was still plugged into the base of the lamp on the desk. His television was off. She didn't see his laptop bag or his laptop, but when she crossed to the other side of the bed, she saw the laptop charger still plugged into an outlet on that side.

Nancy frowned. She couldn't imagine him packing up his computer but leaving the charger unless he was in a tremendous hurry. Even though she saw no sign of a struggle, that didn't mean there hadn't been one—or that someone hadn't taken him away at gunpoint. But she just didn't know.

She didn't like it. And if she was right, if Humphrey hadn't just spent the night with some flirty office assistant, he was in trouble.

And she had no idea what lead he had been investigating to get him there.