Through the Night

by Janelle Denison

  Feeling more presentable, she met him in the adjoining room and headed straight to the cart, which was laden with a variety of continental breakfast items.

  “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I went with the basics.” He picked up a small plate and set a cherry Danish on it, along with a few slices of cantaloupe. “If you’d rather have something cooked, like eggs or a waffle, I can call room service.”

  She shook her head. “No, this is perfect.” She selected mixed berries, a croissant, and a container of yogurt that had been chilling in a bowl of ice, then put her plate on the dining table before returning to the cart for something to drink.

  He poured himself a glass of orange juice and passed her a coffee mug. “I got both regular coffee and decaf, because I wasn’t sure if the caffeinated stuff would mess with your head after a migraine.”

  Was the guy for real? She couldn’t believe he’d put so much thought into what she could eat and drink. “Actually, I can have caffeine in moderation. It can even help relieve the last remnants of a migraine.” She went for the full-strength brew, stirred in cream and sugar, and returned to the table, where Chase was already sitting.

  She dropped a few of her berries into her yogurt and stirred, wondering how he’d spent the past day while she slept like the dead. He’d probably gone sightseeing or maybe did more of his research stuff. Heck, he might even have gone to one of those estate auctions Russ and Angie had mentioned.

  The thought that he might have seen Angie again caused an unexpected twinge of envy that she had no business feeling in their working relationship, and she quashed her feelings.

  “So, what did you do yesterday while I was recovering? Anything fun?” She forced a casual tone.

  “I didn’t go anywhere. I was here the entire time. Day and night.” He took a big bite of his pastry, looking mildly affronted that she thought he’d bail on her. “I wasn’t about to leave you alone, not when you could barely walk or think straight.” Then he frowned at her. “Why do you look so surprised by that?”

  His direct question startled her because he’d read her so accurately. “Probably because I am surprised,” she replied honestly. Her ex-boyfriend had always ditched her when she developed a migraine after one of her “episodes,” as he called them. He’d become impatient and annoyed, as if she purposefully summoned the headache just to irritate him, and she’d learned to handle the aftermath on her own.

  She shrugged. “I guess I just didn’t expect you to babysit me on this trip.”

  “Babysit would imply that I looked after a baby. And you are a grown woman.” His gaze touched on her breasts, eliciting a very womanly response from her that he couldn’t miss. His smirk confirmed it.

  She curbed the impulse to cross her arms over her chest to hide the hard nipples poking through her bra and against her thin cotton tank top. “I’d like to think I’m a grown woman who is capable of taking care of herself.”

  He cocked his head, his eyes narrowed speculatively as he finished off his Danish. “You don’t like feeling vulnerable, do you?”

  “Who does?” she retorted, sipping her coffee.

  Her tone had come out a little too curt, which she immediately regretted. Chase wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of her, which he’d proved last night. But after all the years she’d spent striving to be self-sufficient and independent, it was difficult to give over that control to someone else. Even when she’d clearly had no choice.

  He didn’t seem at all fazed by her touchy response. Instead, he leaned both arms on the table and met her gaze unwaveringly. “When was the last time someone took care of you, Valerie? Without wanting anything in return?”

  Much too long. And what Chase had done for her had felt too good, which was the crux of the problem. “Why does it matter?”

  He shrugged, the muscles in his chest flexing with the casual movement. “Just appease me and answer the question.”

  She didn’t like his approach and felt cornered for some reason, but she wasn’t going to back down. That wasn’t her style. Not anymore. “I really appreciate what you did for me, Chase,” she said, her gratitude wholly sincere. “Obviously I couldn’t have managed to get back to the hotel on my own, but I don’t like depending on anyone, for anything.”

  He ate a piece of juicy cantaloupe, nodding as if he completely understood. “Were things bad for you once your parents passed away?”

  She wasn’t sure if he was merely curious, or was trying to analyze her. “Actually, no. My aunt and uncle were great, as were my cousins. Despite losing my mom and dad when I was five, I had a good childhood.”

  That was the nice, pat story. But she could look back at her past now, as an adult, and realize that even then, surrounded by loving relatives, she’d kept herself apart from the family because of her fear of getting too close and losing them as she had her parents. It was her doing, not her aunt’s or uncle’s.

  Keeping her feelings tucked away deep inside was pure self-preservation for her … until Glen, the one man she’d trusted. But he had exploited her emotions, and her gift, for his own personal gain. Never again.

  He cocked his head, studying her with unnerving calm. “What about the men in your life? Haven’t you ever had a boyfriend take care of you?”

  If Valerie didn’t know better, she really would have believed Chase was a mind-reader, because with one simple question, he tapped into what she’d just been thinking. And now, she had two choices: Brush off his inquiry, or share a part of her past with him that was deeply personal and something she kept private—so private, in fact, that only Skye knew what had happened with Glen.

  It was a difficult decision for her on so many levels, and her first reaction was to clam up and keep him closed off, which was the easy way out and how she dealt with others who’d tried to dig past the surface of her personality. But this man had just spent nearly twenty-four hours watching over her, and tending to her every need when she was barely able to care for herself. He’d been selfless and compassionate without expecting anything in return, and for that alone, he deserved an honest answer, even if it was extremely difficult for her to share it.

  “I’ve had only one serious relationship,” she said, and swallowed back the tight knot forming in her throat. “I was twenty-three at the time, was swept off my feet by a smooth-talking charmer, and because I thought it was the real deal, I fell hard for Glen. But he wasn’t interested in me so much as in my psychic abilities and what they could do for him.”

  She didn’t want to go into details about how Glen had used and taken advantage of her, because her part in his scam was still too painful for her to think about, let alone share. “I realized too late that he didn’t have a charitable bone in his entire body, and the only person he cared about was himself.” She couldn’t stop the bitter tone that colored her voice and words.

  His gaze turned sympathetic with understanding. “You didn’t deserve to be treated that way. Nobody does. The guy was clearly a douche bag.”

  That prompted a smile from her, and some of the tension inside her eased. “I couldn’t agree with you more. But it’s in the past, and I’d like to think it was a huge lesson learned.” Before he could question her further, she reversed the conversation on him. “When was the last time someone took care of you?”

  She figured turnabout was fair play, and Chase struck her as a man who was equally self-sufficient and had no insecurities or weaknesses and rarely, if ever, depended on anyone. For anything.

  “My grandfather,” he said quietly as his fingers wiped away the condensation on his glass of orange juice. “He was the one and only person who was there for me growing up, and again when my family disowned me because they think I’m nothing more than a fraud because of what I do for a living. He was a great man, and I miss him every single day.”

  He did nothing to hide the tinge of sadness in his voice, and she knew by Chase’s choice of words that his grandfather was no longer around. “I’m sorry,” she sai
d softly.

  “Thanks. I think you would have liked him.” He leaned back in his chair, and just when she thought the conversation was over, he went on, seemingly caught up in the past and revealing more than she would have expected.

  “I was a wild and rebellious kid, mainly because my father always tried to shape me into this cookie-cutter version of what he wanted from a son, and I never fit that shallow, restrictive mold of his,” he continued with a shrug. “My grandfather was always there to reassure me that I was a good person, despite my father’s disapproval and disappointment. And because things were always tense between me and my parents when I was growing up, I spent my summers and school vacations with my grandfather at his place just outside of Chicago.”

  He shifted in his seat, a faraway look in his eyes as he went on. “When I was a teenager, he was the one who took me to antique auctions and stores to learn about history and the past. At the time, he did it to keep me focused and busy so I didn’t get into more trouble, but ‘trolling for treasures,’ as my grandfather liked to call it, developed a very special bond between us.”

  She finished off the last of her coffee, a part of her envying the close relationship Chase had shared with his grandfather. “What did he think about your psychometric abilities?”

  “He thought it was the coolest thing ever, and he would have loved that I found that Capone cane top.” A wide grin curved up the corners of Chase’s mouth. “His father, my great-grandfather, grew up in Chicago during the Capone mobster era, and worked in a speakeasy that Capone frequented during the Prohibition period. According to my grandfather, his dad would regale him with sensationalized tales about Capone, and as a little boy he grew fascinated with the gangster’s life and started collecting various Capone memorabilia, all the way up to when he died. He was always looking for that big score, sort of like Geraldo being obsessed with trying to unearth Capone’s secret vault.”

  This other side to Chase’s life was so unexpected, yet it gave her a better understanding of the emotional component that drove him to succeed with this current case. “So is finding the rest of the cane also important to you because of your grandfather, to honor his memory?”

  He glanced down at his empty plate, and she found it odd that he wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  As answers went, it was fairly vague, but it was really none of her business what Chase’s personal reasons were for tracking down the cane pieces. Businesswise, they were on this case for Steven.

  Yet this man sitting across from her was proving to be an enigma, someone who surprised her at every turn with different facets of his personality and deeper glimpses into his life. Beneath that carefree charm was a man who’d lost something precious when his grandfather died, and Valerie knew exactly how that kind of loneliness felt.

  Finally, he looked at her again, his gentle gaze searching hers. “There is something I want to ask you about Alcatraz and yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me your reaction to the prison would be that bad? I never would have asked you to do it had I known how physically ill being around all that paranormal energy would make you.”

  She believed him. He’d given her enough proof that he was a man of integrity, his actions last night speaking for themselves.

  “I honestly didn’t know that I’d be that sensitive. I usually have a mild reaction with a reading, maybe a slight headache, but the things that went on in that penitentiary were beyond reprehensible and the energy hit me harder than usual. I’m sorry I didn’t find anything substantial for you at the prison. It feels like a wasted trip.”

  “Actually, it’s not a wasted trip at all.” A sudden glimmer of excitement sparked in his eyes, which strangely gave her a buzz of exhilaration, too. “I had a private investigator check into a lead for me, and yesterday afternoon while you were sleeping off your migraine he finally got in touch with some really good information.”

  “Yeah?” She found Chase’s enthusiasm infectious, and leaned forward, eager to hear what he had to say. “What did he find?”

  “He was looking into a person by the name of Stanley Williams, who worked in the hospital ward as an orderly at Alcatraz when Capone was admitted to the infirmary for his syphilis problems,” Chase said. “Years ago, Williams wrote some articles and posted them on the Internet about things that happened at the prison, as well as the friendship he developed with Capone while he was in the hospital ward. I wanted to see if Stanley was still around to talk to.”

  “Your PI found him?” she asked incredulously. “Is he still alive?”

  “Yep.” He nodded, looking boyishly adorable, and it was clear to her how much all this meant to him. “Stanley was eighteen at the time that Capone spent time in the infirmary, and he just turned ninety-four a month ago. He’s in an assisted-living retirement facility in Pleasanton, which is about an hour’s drive from here.”

  “Do you think he’ll remember anything related to his time at Alcatraz?” She hated to raise doubts about the situation, but it was possible too much time had passed and age had dimmed or even diminished the old man’s memories.

  “I don’t know, but I have to talk to him. I was able to contact a family member—his grandson, actually—who gave me permission to talk to Stanley when I told him about my research pertaining to Capone. He said that Stanley is still pretty sharp, and he’s always reminiscing about Alcatraz and the things that happened there. I figured visiting him was worth a shot.”

  “It can’t hurt to talk to him,” she agreed, and stood up. “Give me about an hour to shower and get ready to go.”

  He pushed back his chair and stood, too, and just as she turned to head toward the bedroom, he grabbed her arm to stop her.

  He’d opened his mouth to say something, but as soon as skin touched skin, a sizzling heat shot through her body, igniting a hot spark of desire, and she swallowed back a gasp. Now that her migraine was gone, the attraction between them was back and stronger than ever, and one glance into his seductive green eyes told her he’d felt the renewed surge of awareness, too.

  The pad of his thumb stole along the inside of her elbow, stroking slowly, deliberately, adding new dimensions to the arousing sensations already rioting within her. But now, after everything they’d shared, there was an emotional component involved, and combined with the banked lust in his gaze, it tugged on something long forgotten in her. A need that went beyond mere desire.

  Between last night and this morning, something had changed between them, and she felt helpless to deny the pull he had on her mind or her body. Refusing to dissect her reasons to death, she took a step toward him, closing the distance until her hands were on his bare chest, then sliding up around his neck. Instantly, the electrical heat they seemed to create together traveled from him to her, making her quiver in intimate places. Making her breathless with anticipation.

  He stood still and silent, watching her the entire time, his hooded eyes going dark as sin and his body vibrating with the most delicious sexual energy. Her nipples peaked hard and tight, and a liquid warmth settled between her thighs, and when she inhaled deeply, she breathed in the arousing scent of musk and man.

  Before she changed her mind—or came to her senses—she tipped her head up and touched her mouth to his. With a low, rumbling groan of surprise his lips parted, inviting her inside, and she didn’t hesitate, knowing the immense pleasure that awaited her. Their tongues tangled, soft and slow and deep, and when his hands came up to frame her face and tilt her head to one side for a more erotic kiss, she sighed and shivered and ached for more.

  God, she wanted him. She craved his hands all over her bare, sensitive skin, yearned to feel his wicked mouth on her breasts, and knew without a doubt that sex with Chase would be phenomenal—especially when just a touch, a kiss, could elicit such incredible, ravenous pleasure. She could only imagine what would happen when he was buried to the hilt inside her body, his restrained hunger unleashed, and their passion for each other searing them both.
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  She was so tired of denying herself what she wanted so badly. So tired of passionless affairs she indulged in that left her physically unsatisfied and wanting. She had her dream lover, but he was nothing more than a fantasy, and Chase was real in every way that mattered. The thick erection straining against her stomach proved it.

  His kisses felt luxuriously sensual—hot, sweet, and thrilling. This man, like no other she’d ever been with, had the ability to set her on fire, and she was oh-so tempted to get burned. And if having sex with him was her choice, on her terms with her in control, with the sole focus on physical pleasure, then why couldn’t she enjoy what he had to offer during their short time together?

  Liking that idea, she pulled back to end the kiss. They were both breathing hard and it took a moment for the haze of lust to clear.

  When it did, he pushed his fingers through his hair, his expression dazed and bewildered. “What was that for?” he asked huskily.

  She licked her bottom lip and tasted him. She also noticed the heat that flared in his eyes as his gaze focused on the mouth he’d just kissed so thoroughly. “Because I wanted to.” Her answer was the truth.

  The faintest hint of an amused smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Do you plan on doing it again anytime soon?”

  Oh, yeah, she did. “Maybe,” she teased, just as surprised at her own flirtatious behavior as he seemed to be. Before he could question her further, she took a step back and motioned toward the bedroom. “I need to go and get ready so we can head out to see Stanley.”

  “Wait.” He shook his head and took an extra few seconds to gather his thoughts. “Before I take you with me to see Stanley, I want to be absolutely sure that you’re not going to have the same panicked reaction walking into an assisted-living facility as you did on Alcatraz.”

  “Alcatraz is haunted, which makes a big difference. I should be fine,” she said, appreciating his concern for her. “We’re going to see someone specific, and that’s what I’ll focus on. Stanley and his aura and past memories.”