We took our cups of steaming java to the living room, resuming the same places we had last night. It felt weird, almost like last night's bedroom Olympics had never happened.
"Now," she said, taking a few sips of coffee, "what was it you wanted to ask me, Mr. Randolph?"
I grinned, "You should probably call me Jake now, Miss Cross."
She smiled back, "Tiffany."
"Tiffany," I said. "How well did you know Paige Turner?"
Her eyebrow rose, "Are you a cop?"
I laughed. "Hardly. I'm a private investigator. But this isn't a case. I'm trying to help a friend."