by C. J. Thomas
He was definitely intense, and that intensity came through in bed.
Mmmm . . . I fell back onto the bed, my head landing on the ultra-soft pillow. No denying the way I’d slept: Like a log.
Sure, some of it had to do with the workout he gave me. Some of it might have been the emotion of the day, too. The rest was that glorious bed. I’d never been so comfortable.
I’d never been so turned-on, either. I’d never felt the passion he sparked in me. It was like I’d been walking around with my eyes closed for my entire life, only guessing at what passion felt like. Thinking I knew, because I thought sex and passion went hand-in-hand. I’d never come close until Dan carried me up to bed.
I got wet just thinking about it, and pressed my legs together to add to the pressure. My body responded just as it would have if he were here with me. I closed my eyes, stretching languidly, running my hands over the sheets. Just as I did when he was on top of me, inside me, driving me crazy.
It was delicious. I couldn’t wait for more.
There would be more, right?
If I had anything to say about it, there would be.
I pulled myself together and freshened up, hoping Dan hadn’t looked too closely at me while I was sleeping. My hair stuck up in all directions, I had raccoon circles beneath my eyes. There was even dried drool on the corner of my mouth. Gross. Not exactly the way to keep a man interested.
He sure had been interested, too. I grinned as I brushed my teeth, blushing a little when I remembered how hot it was. To think, I’d avoided him for so many years. Look what I’d been missing.
He was worth waiting for.
I wore the sweats I’d brought for sleeping, since both Dan and I had slept in the nude. I couldn’t help remembering the way he’d pulled them from me and I held the t-shirt to my nose. Sure enough, it carried just a hint of his cologne.
I looked around the room once more, wondering if he made the bed or somebody else came in to do it. He never struck me as the domestic type, so I left the bedding as it was. We could always change it together later if need be.
I grinned, biting my lip. If I had my way, it would only need to be changed again right after that.
The downstairs was just as stunning as I remembered it. So spacious, airy, comfortable but still impressive. I ran a hand over the sofa, marveling at how soft and comfortable it looked. There was a giant flat-screen TV mounted over the fireplace. I imagined curling up with him on the sofa, binge watching our favorite shows.
Then I laughed at myself. The image of Dan spending hours in front of the TV was about as believable as the one of him making the bed and washing dishes.
How he lived there alone, I didn’t understand—it was the sort of home a family should live in, with all those bedrooms and all that space. I couldn’t help imagining kids running around, splashing in the pool. I told myself it was my big family roots showing themselves. It had nothing to do with a ticking biological clock or the night with Dan, his sweet note or the way I wished I could make him a beautiful dinner to come home to.
I shook my head at myself. It wouldn’t do to fall for him, even though I couldn’t help swooning a little. I had to grow up and stay that way. What was it about him that reduced me to a silly girl?
I managed to pull together a quick breakfast, feeling uncomfortable going through the kitchen without Dan there, regardless of how he urged me to make myself at home all day. It didn’t take much to find a bagel, cream cheese, and fruit. I munched on them as I walked around, running my hands over the appliances, admiring the view outside the windows. There wasn’t a bad view to be found in the whole place. How did he get anything done from day to day? I would spend hours just staring out the window.
I shook myself. There were things to do, like working.
I found my phone, which of course was full of texts and voicemails. My cheeks reddened when I thought about how unavailable I’d made myself. I was usually tethered to my phone, answering calls at all hours of the day or night. No wonder people worried when it looked like I’d dropped off the face of the earth.
The first person I called was my editor. No rest for the wicked. He was looking for me, wondering why I never returned to the office the day before. I cut off his questions with explanations the instant he answered the phone.
“Sal, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was going to work at home, only when I got home, I found my apartment was broken into.”
That shut him up. “You okay?” Sal asked, in his trademark gruff tone. For all his bluster, he was sort of a mentor to me. That was how he saw himself, anyway. He was the first editor I’d had at the magazine, and we’d been together ever since. He made sure my work never got butchered and fought for me to get the best stories. I owed him a lot.
“I’m okay. I spent the night at a friend’s place, though. A little too spooky at home.”
“Makes sense. Still, I need you to submit something on Emelia.”
I rolled my eyes, my stomach tightening. I should have known the sympathy would last all of five seconds. “Yeah, I know.”
“You know, you know. So why don’t I have anything yet?”
I paced the living room, the view forgotten. “Sal, it’s a tricky story. You know it is. I can’t just pump something out.”
“Like this is the first tricky story you’ve ever worked on,” he pointed out sourly. “What is it that makes this one so special? You afraid of success?”
That made me laugh. “Hardly. How long have we worked together?”
“That’s why I don’t get it. This isn’t like you. This story will be the talk of the town, and you’re the only person who can write it.”
“You always know just how to butter me up.” I smirked.
“I mean it. You know it’s true.”
I sighed. “Yes. I know.”
“So get to work, then.”
“There’s still too much that’s up in the air right now. The cops don’t know what happened, exactly. Even when they do, I don’t want to exploit my source.”
“Your source. Like we don’t all know who your source always is.” Sal chuckled.
I scowled. “Unfair—and, if anything, even more reason for me to take my time. I can’t throw unsubstantiated theories around.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time somebody around here did that.”
“I’m better than that. Isn’t that what you always say?”
“I need a story. Give me the story. No more games.”
“All right.” My brain spun. “I’ll work from here, though. I didn’t bring any work clothes with me when I packed up. I was in a hurry. And I don’t have my car, but I have my laptop. I’ll send you the completed first draft in a few hours. Sound good?”
“You don’t leave me much of a choice,” he grumbled. I knew that meant he was happy to get anything at all, and I grinned with satisfaction as I ended the call.
I wasn’t grinning when I hauled out my laptop, though, opening it on the kitchen table. I cracked my knuckles, settling in to get some work done. I tried to forget about the sparkling pool just on the other side of the wall.
Dan wasn’t just good for a roll in the hay or even a house to stay in. I had his insight into the case and could use it for the story. I couldn’t name him directly, of course—
Crap. I realized he might think I was only using him as a source. When he saw the story, saw how much of the insider information I’d slid into it, that might be his first conclusion.
I couldn’t very well come out and tell him I wasn’t using him, since that would make it sound like I was and I knew he’d see it that way.
What a mess.
I stared at the blinking cursor on the blank page—I’d written notes, tons of them, but hadn’t put anything together yet. Where to begin? It meant opening Emelia’s life up to the world and putting my friendship with Dan at risk . . . not to mention the risk to anything else we might have together.
You’re the only one who can write this stor
y.
The words kept playing in my head. I’d have the hottest story in town once I finished writing it, and there was the promise of even more material as time passed and Emelia’s killer was caught. Nobody else had the angle I did—after all, nobody else from the office had visited her apartment, and nobody else knew about the pictures.
I froze, eyes wider.
Margo knew.
Margo didn’t care, though. I thought about the way she reacted to the pictures when I first showed them to her. The blasé attitude. She didn’t want to know the truth since she was tied up with Austin. If anything, she was less likely to report on the pictures because they made her look like the other woman or the one Austin used as a rebound girlfriend. I knew Margo too well to think she’d put her personal reputation in jeopardy just to out-scoop me. She had too much pride.
I was the only one who could write it. It was up to me to be sure Emelia’s story was told honestly, faithfully. Otherwise, she’d be just another Hollywood overdose.
She was better than that. For once, I’d write a story and truly feel like I was doing the right thing by the subject. A tabloid reporter didn’t get that opportunity every day.
With that in mind, I got to work.
140
Dan
FRANK WAS good enough not to grill me about Julia until I finished my coffee. Sometimes he had a heart. I took advantage, sipping as slowly as I could. The minute the paper cup hit the trash can, he was off.
“What happened? How is she? Why didn’t you come back yesterday?”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to be patient. I might be just as interested in other people’s lives if I were married for twenty-five years to a woman who only let me touch her on my birthday.
“It was a break-in. She’s fine. I had to put her somewhere that wasn’t her place, so . . .”
He closed his eyes. “Tell me you got her a hotel room.”
“Sorry, I can’t.”
“You took her home with you?” He opened his eyes, groaning as he did.
“What’s so bad about that?”
“Nothin’, except you’re always the one who says you don’t do that. It’s one of your rules, isn’t it?”
He needed to stop living vicariously. “Rules can be broken in times of extreme stress. She was extremely stressed, she felt vulnerable and freaked out. I couldn’t see leaving her alone in a hotel. Plus, it would be a waste of money. She can’t make all that much—you should see how tiny her place is.”
He fell silent, thinking it over. “I guess she stayed in the guest room, then, huh?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “You know she didn’t.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really? How was it?” He leaned forward, wanting to soak up every detail.
I couldn’t bring myself to share. Not that I never had before—we had the same guy talk you’d hear in a locker room, or anywhere men worked closely together. We had spent a lot of time in unmarked cars on stakeouts. It passed the time.
So why was I hesitant, all of a sudden? “It was great. She was great.”
I could tell he was waiting, expectantly. “And?”
“And that’s it. After all that time, she was worth waiting for.”
His face fell. “Oh, shit. You didn’t, like, make love to her. Did you?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It makes a helluva lot of difference. Oh, damn.” He stood, running a hand through his close-cropped gray hair. “I just lost a hero today. I need a little time to mourn.”
“Oh, get over it. Jesus.” I smirked, watching him pace with his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t understand. Wait until you’re my age and you have nothin’ to look forward to anymore. Then you’ll see.”
I would never be that person. “Sorry, buddy. I don’t know what else to say. I’m too shy, I guess.”
“Hang on. You’re not fallin’ for the girl, are you?” When I didn’t answer him right away, he groaned louder than ever.
“I think I am. I don’t know what to think about it, honestly.”
“You know what I think about it?” He perched on the edge of my desk, arms crossed again.
“No, but I can’t wait.”
He got very serious, very fast. “I think you need to be careful. No joke. Don’t let your thing with her get in the middle of your work.”
“My thing?”
“Your thing. Whatever you wanna call it. Fact is, she’s a reporter. She’s the press. You can’t let her know too much, especially when we hardly have anything to go on as it is. This could be a big mistake for you.”
I pursed my lips, not wanting to admit he was right but knowing he was.
“I trust her,” I finally said. He didn’t look so sure.
“Did you ever think she’s usin’ you for a source on her story?”
“Not her. She wouldn’t do that.” I was adamant.
“You’re sure about it? You’re not just lettin’ your dick do the talking?”
“Fuck off,” I said, shoving him a little. “You know I don’t do that.”
“I didn’t think you invited women to spend the night at your place, either. Look what happened.” I tried to turn away, but he followed me. “Listen, buddy, I’m only saying this for your own good. I don’t want you to get in trouble. I like havin’ you as a partner, okay? There. You made me say it.”
I grinned. “I’m touched. But I mean it. I trust her. She’s not the type to use anybody.”
“Especially not you, right?” He looked even more crestfallen than he had earlier.
“Hey, don’t forget, she was the one who turned us onto the foul play idea. She’s helping us, too. We would have closed the case before now. How sloppy is that?”
He went back to his desk. I knew he didn’t like being called out for sloppy work. I was guilty of it, too.
“I’m lookin’ into the Austin Haynes angle,” Frank said. “I haven’t gotten far, though. It doesn’t help that the guy’s got a whole public relations team on his side.”
“So, what do we have on him? Anything at all?”
Frank shrugged. “The usual shit. You know how it goes with guys like him. Nothin’ ever hits the public because he pays to keep it under wraps.”
“Then let’s unwrap it, partner. Come on. We have to put this together.”
“We?” Frank snorted.
“I can do this on my own, sure. But I’m trying to do you a favor by bringing you in.” I grinned.
“Really? How so?” He smirked, knowing me too well to buy any bullshit.
“I don’t want you to miss out on any of the glory. This is a big case, buddy. Lots of coverage, lots of pats on the back. Maybe a promotion. Would you want me to take it all for myself?”
“Since when are you so generous?”
“I’ve turned over a new leaf.”
He shook his head, crossing his arms over his stained tie. “I don’t know, Pierce. I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Since when are you afraid of a little work?”
“Since the work involves a billionaire and the girl you’re sleepin’ with.”
“Watch it.”
“You’re only going off what she wants you to think.”
“Tell me it doesn’t make sense.” I leaned back, crossing my ankles on top of my desk. “You know for yourself there were no opiates in her system. Nothing that could have killed her but something she would never have taken on her own.”
“Sure.”
“And I found the pictures of her with Austin Haynes.”
“Right.”
“Why not do a little digging, then?”
“I’m all about the diggin’. I think the guy’s probably guilty as sin. I don’t know, I guess I don’t like it because I know you’re doin’ it for her, too. It ain’t right, you two bein’ so close. There’s a fine line between what you do and what she does, and you don’t wanna cross that line.”
“You’re not telling m
e anything I don’t already know,” I said.
He sighed. “I’m a fool.” That was all I needed to hear. I could barely bite back a smile.
“WHADDYA GOT OVER THERE?” Frank looked roughly waist-deep in files. We’d requested anything and everything connected with Austin Haynes or his company, and the file clerks had delivered hard copies of everything on the record before we went digital.
I scrolled through the digital records, plus anything I could find against the Haynes Corporation. It was like trying to tear down a mountain with a pick ax. I nearly felt hopeless, sure we’d never make enough progress.
“Did you know they’ve been named in twenty-three lawsuits in the last five years? Twenty-three! It’s amazing they have any money left, after all those lawyer fees.” I shook my head in amazement.
“Anything major?”
“No, and it never went any further than the initial lawsuit. The cases never went before a judge. Always paid off.”
“They must have an entire branch just for lawyers and pay-offs,” Frank muttered. “What were the cases about?”
“A lot of it is sealed, but I’m looking through the plaintiff names and many sound familiar. Rival companies, mostly.”
“They never got any awards for honesty.”
“No, they didn’t. I didn’t know how bad it was, though.” I wished I could find out more about the reasons people tried to sue. Maybe one of them still held a grudge and took it out on Emelia to get back at Austin.
No—their relationship was a secret, I reminded myself. Big companies had investigators, though. They could have found out, somehow.
I put that theory on the back burner and kept digging while Frank reviewed Austin’s files.
“Did you know he’s had three DUI’s?” Frank asked.
“No—when?”
“All in the last four years. The lesson just ain’t sinkin’ in.”
“Right, but has he had to pay for what he did?”
Frank shook his head. “Financially? Yeah. But no suspended license, nothing more than a slap-on-the-wrist fine.”
“Probably more than that,” I reasoned. “Who knows who he paid off? A judge, maybe the cop who pulled him over. Could be plenty of people.”
