Time to trot out one of his stock questions. “What brings you to New York?”

“I’m interviewing for a job in publishing.”

Mario smiled. She wasn’t a tourist. She intended to get a job and stay, which meant his instincts were still working. “Who are you interviewing with?”

“I was able to get appointments at two of the houses, and the others I’ll try to set up while I’m here. I just got my English degree at ASU. I probably seem a little old to be graduating, but I had a few interruptions. Oh, look! The skyline!”

Mario’s heart squeezed at the reverence in her voice. He didn’t have to ask if this was her first trip. Or whether she had the faintest idea how competitive the job field was. He was no expert on publishing, but this time of year a hoard of Ivy League graduates descended on the city looking for jobs. And they all had connections.

“Do you know anybody here?” Mario hoped she knew somebody. Or maybe Zach had clients in the publishing world.

“Nope. I’ve lived in Arizona my whole life. My brother and sister thought I was nuts to want to move here. But I love books, and if you love books, New York is the place.”

“That’s a fact.” Mario decided that even if the redhead didn’t take to Zach, or vice versa, she could use some help with this job quest. “I know somebody who might have a connection at one of the publishing houses.” That was stretching things a bit, but odds were it was true. A glance in the rearview mirror told him the redhead was smiling again.

“Look at that,” she said. “I’m already networking.”

“This guy I know is an investment counselor. Name’s Zachary Evans, but he mostly goes by Zach. I’m pretty sure one of his clients works for a publishing house.” Put that way, it sounded kind of lame. Mario wondered if she’d question the value of talking to Zach.

Instead she seemed eager. “Great! Do you have his number?”

“Not on me, but I should be seeing him this morning. I can give him your name and have him call the Pearson.”

“That would be terrific. My name’s Hannah Robertson. I don’t have any business cards, but I could write it down for you.” She rummaged in her purse.

“That’s okay. I’ll remember.” As a cop, Mario had been famous for his recall. He still prided himself on that.

“All right, then. I’ll look forward to hearing from Zach Evans.”

They rode in silence for a while. Mario could have asked a bunch more questions, but he’d learned that too many questions could make a passenger suspicious of his motives. So he waited for her to make the next conversational move.

Finally she spoke again. “You know, it’s nice that you have pictures of your family taped on your dash. It makes the cab look homey and cheerful.”

“They’re not exactly my family.” So she’d been studying his pictures. Ordinarily Mario was happy to talk about his matchmaking hobby, but not when he was in the process of trying to hook people up. People got hinky if they thought he was doing that. “Just a bunch of good friends.”

“Well, that’s still nice. Everybody looks so happy in those pictures. You must have a lot of good-natured friends.”

“Life’s too short to have bad-natured ones.” Mario only matched up people who were pleasant. Maybe that was why he had such an astounding success ratio, ninety percent.

“Is Zach Evans in one of those pictures?”

“No, I don’t happen to have a picture of him yet.” But if everything works out the way I’m hoping, I will soon.


IRIS DIDN’T USUALLY GIVE Zach a hard sell, so he wondered why she was suddenly pushing the pastelitos and urging him to buy a second cup of espresso. He hoped she didn’t have money troubles. A woman as fiercely independent as Iris would die before admitting that she had problems in that area, but she might increase the sales pressure to generate better cash flow.

What the hell. He’d started going into the office an hour early, so it wasn’t like he’d be late to work if he hung around the coffee stand a little longer. There’d be another bus along later. And two espressos might be exactly what he needed today to nail his monthly quota and secure his move to that corner office Drake Medford had promised him.

An image of Ed, the guy currently in that corner office, flashed through his mind. Ed had been around for years and no longer seemed to care about his monthly quota. If you worked for Drake Medford, that was a bad thing. Zach told himself not to think about where Ed would end up. That wasn’t his responsibility.

So he drank his second espresso, munched on a flaky pastelito and listened to Iris’s favorite Celia Cruz CD while some guys in dreadlocks went strolling by. At times like this he wondered what the folks back in Auburn, Illinois, would make of it all. No one in his family had expressed any desire to visit, so he’d had to make trips home in order to see them.

Because that only happened about once a year, he’d constructed his own little support group in Manhattan, and Iris was definitely included. He would hate to think she’d fallen on hard times. Maybe he could smoke out some information on her financial picture and see if he could guide her in some way.

He waited until she’d served a couple who looked like they might be honeymooners judging from the way they held hands and couldn’t stop gazing at each other. Their obvious affection sent a pang of regret running through him. Adrienne had never looked at him that way, which should have given him a clue.

When the coast was clear, he wandered closer to the coffee stand. “I hope your tax guy advised you to take a deduction for your CD player and the music you buy,” he said. “That’s an integral part of your business.”

Iris nodded as she tucked money in her cash drawer. “I have many deductions, mijo.”

“That’s good. Keeping a business afloat isn’t easy these days. You need all the breaks you can get.”

Iris smiled. “Sì. I’m lucky that people like my coffee and my pastelitos so I won’t end up a beggar when I’m old.”

She said it with such confidence that Zach had to believe she was solvent. That left him still wondering why she’d urged him to spend more at her coffee stand this morning.

“Aha! Here’s Mario!” Iris sounded delighted, as usual. No doubt there was a romance blossoming there.

Zach was also happy to see the guy. A chance cab ride with Mario about a year ago had resulted in a growing friendship, and Zach considered Mario part of his New York family, too. Mario had introduced Zach to this little piece of espresso heaven, and Zach always enjoyed running into him here.

“Hey, Mario.” Zach brushed the crumbs from his fingers and held out his hand. “How’s it going?”

“Can’t complain.” Mario shook hands before glancing over at Iris. He touched the brim of his Giants cap in greeting. “Morning, Iris. That’s a good color on you.”

“Ai, this old thing?” Iris blushed like a teenager as she looked down at her red blouse. “Your eyes are tired from being up all night. You need coffee so you can see better.” She reached for the small porcelain espresso cup she kept especially for him.

“My eyesight’s fine, but I’ll need that coffee to go,” Mario said.

“Oh.” Iris’s smile faded.

“I’m giving Zach a ride to the office. I’ll be back.”

“Oh.” Iris’s smile returned.

“You don’t need to give me a ride.” Zach didn’t want to get in the way of this flirtation. “The bus is almost here. I’ll just-”

“Ah, get in the cab and pretend you’re a rich guy.” Mario picked up the foam cup Iris handed him and used it to gesture toward the curb where he’d parked. “I need to discuss a little matter with you.”

Zach shrugged. “If you insist.” He didn’t mind the expense once in a while, especially when the money went to a guy like Mario. Besides, riding in Mario’s cab was an experience. He drove the cab the way he’d probably driven the cruiser when he was a cop, except now he had to substitute the horn for the siren.

Because they were friends, Zach rode in the front, which gave him an excellent view of all the happy couples taped to Mario’s dash. Mario’s romantic streak was touching. Zach had asked him once why he wasn’t married, considering how much he supported the institution.

Turned out Mario had lost his wife some time ago, and still seemed to be hurting. But time had passed, and he definitely seemed interested in Iris. Zach thought the two of them would be good together.

Mario climbed behind the wheel and set his cup in a plastic holder before starting the engine. Then he turned off the meter.

“Hey, I want to pay,” Zach said.

“Nope. This one’s on the house.” Mario gunned the engine and tires screeched as he plunged into traffic.

Zach held on to the armrest for balance, but he wasn’t the least bit nervous. Mario drove fast, but he never wrecked. “If you want a hot stock tip,” Zach said, “you’ll have to wait until I get to the office. But as of last night, your portfolio was looking good. I wouldn’t change anything, but if you want to add, then-”

“This isn’t about the market.” Mario surged through a yellow light, honking the horn to warn off anyone who dared get in his way. “It’s about a woman I picked up at the airport.”

Suddenly Zach understood Iris’s strange behavior and Mario’s offer of a ride to work. “Oh, no.”

“What do you mean, oh, no?”

“You’re ready to fix me up with her, aren’t you?”

“Hell, no, I’m not!” Mario veered sharply around a parked van. “She needs some help looking for a job, that’s all.”

“Yeah, sure. Listen, Mario, thanks, but no thanks. I know this is your mission in life, but I have no interest in getting taped to your dash. Forget it.”

“But I only thought-”