Edward Russell Klein was her problem. Or maybe the answer to her prayers.

She studied him silently. He was about the right age, thirty-two. She hadn’t expected him to be quite so gorgeous, however. Even in a plaid flannel shirt and worn, soft-looking jeans that molded to his backside, he could put any of the Gucci-wearing men she knew in New York to shame. Being a wilderness outfitter must work the muscles, she mused, because he had firm, taut ones in all the right places.

She liked his hair-thick, wavy, a bit long, light brown and streaked by the sun. She couldn’t exactly see him visiting a salon for highlights.

Sydney’s face grew warm as she realized she’d been staring at him rather rudely.

“Is something wrong with the coffee?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“You did say cream, right?”

“Oh.” She took another sip, wondering at her lack of composure. “It’s very good, thank you.” He was probably used to women staring. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t stare?

He took a long sip of his own coffee. “Well?” he said, sounding more bemused than impatient. He gazed at her, waiting. His eyes were a vibrant sky-blue, deep and unfathomable.

Wrap your mind around your business, Syd. “The firm I work for, Baines & Baines,” she began, “specializes in matching up unclaimed property with the rightful owners. I believe I’ve found a small sum of money that might very well belong to you.”

“Small, huh? Do you always travel all the way from New York for small sums of money?”

“Actually, I was visiting an aunt in Austin,” Sydney said smoothly even as she upped her respect for Russ Klein’s intelligence. He wasn’t some country bumpkin she could easily dazzle. “But I thought I could take care of this while I’m here. If you could answer a few simple questions, we might be able to settle this matter and you could have a check in your hands very soon.”