“Yes.” She scribbled more notes, a puzzling unease in her tone.
“What?” he shot her a questioning glance.
Sadness filled her face. “I’ve known him a long time. This is a side to Mayor Reeves I hadn’t wanted to consciously acknowledge, even after his off-base pass. Bad politics is one thing, but bad ethics is another entirely.”
“You’re not going soft on him?” Sudden jealousy roiled through him. Confused him. Because she had a history with him?
“Of course not.”
With several vehicles between them, Ben’s truck mirrored Ellen’s maneuvers. Her car turned into the entrance of a restaurant. Ben slowed, and then circled his truck around the other side of the lot until Mayor Reeves and Ellen entered. He found an empty space in an opposite row several spots down.
“Let the waiting commence.” He powered the camera off.
She doodled on her notepad. “It’s a nice time of year to be stalking. Darkness would be helpful, though.”
He watched another couple walk to the restaurant doors. “It’ll be dark soon enough. Might be chilly, too.” He shot her a wary look, hoping she didn’t catch his silent offer to remedy the situation.
“Don’t you worry. My thick reporter’s skin will keep me warm.”
“That is a plus,” he said absently, looking out the window so she wouldn’t see his disappointment.
She focused on the restaurant too. After a long stretch of silence, she turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“What?” Had he let something slip? Or had she imagined he had?
“That it’s a plus?” She gripped her notepad, as if ready to take notes for future reference.
“Nothing. I was making conversation, I guess.” He looked at her with wide eyes. Any five-year-old could look guiltier than him.
“Do you think I’m so thick-skinned?”
He shrugged and opened his mouth, but nothing came out but a long uh. The way she gripped her pen, he hoped she wouldn’t stab him. But no, her pouty lip said she spoke in self-defense.
As if gathering her senses, she inhaled deeply. “Never mind. I must be getting claustrophobic. I’m not used to sitting for so long.”
“It’s only been ten minutes.” His whisper sounded hoarse even to himself. So short a time in which to hang himself.
“I know. I’m anticipating what a long night it might be.”
Right. Trapped in the cab of the truck with him. “We need to focus on the restaurant, who’s coming and going.” No one was coming or going. The door to the restaurant had opened only once more in ten minutes, when an older gentleman held the door for a white-haired woman.
“You’re right. Sorry.” She watched out the window.
This was another one of those lulls he’d dreaded.
“I’m not really,” she blurted. “Thick-skinned. Just to clarify.” In the gathering dimness, her expression appeared as innocent as his, signaling confrontation wasn’t her true goal, merely clarification.
“Duly noted.” His tone had the appropriate finality he’d aimed for, to close the door on the discussion before he became closed in a corner from which there was no escape.
To his relief, she dropped it. They both turned their attention to the restaurant. Its lighted rooms looked cozy through the windows. Tables were further inside, away from sight. Maybe it was a factor in why the mayor had chosen this place; the dinner was probably in a private room.
Their parking spot was far away from the one lamppost lighting the walkway. The building aimed two spotlights onto either side of the lot, but neither cast much light in their direction.
As the darkness grew, so did the awkwardness of sitting in the dark truck with her. Feeling trapped, he longed for an escape, any sort of movement. “I wonder if we walked by the window, if we could see what was going on?”
She thought a moment. “We’d have to be careful. If we saw him, there’s a good chance he’d see us too.” She bit her lip. “We could stand by that big pine tree. For cover.”
He grinned. “You’re getting into the whole stalking thing, aren’t you?”
“No, I just thought…” Her gaze drifted out the window.
“You’re bored senseless.” He sometimes had that effect on women.
“Pretty much.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” He reached for the door handle.
A car swung into the entrance, its headlights scanning the parking lot.
“Wait – incoming.” She ducked her head.
He crouched next to her, bumped his head against hers. “You sure you weren’t with the CIA? You’ve got all the lingo down.”
“I watch movies.” Her face was inches away, and even prettier in the half-light.
He whispered, “Neither of us is watching the restaurant.”
“Oh. Right.” Sliding up, she peeked over the dash. “Clear.”
He chuckled, repeated clear as he opened the door. He grabbed her arm. “We need to be quiet. Act cool.”
“I’m cool.”
He raised a skeptical brow. “Take it slow and easy.”
“I’m Slow Hand Sydney.”
She stepped outside, leaving him to imagine her slow hands all over him.
He slung the camera strap over his shoulder and linked his arm through hers. “Any other personalities going to surface tonight?”
She pressed her lips together, her smile came through. “Shut up.”
“Your darling sweetness is what made me fall in love with you,” he crooned.
She stopped short. “What?”
Shit. Breath left him as he stared, and finally remembered to force a grin. “We’re pretending to be a couple here. I was getting into the role.” A little too much.
She tugged her jacket tight and walked on. “Don’t get in too far.”
“Nooo.” His hand snaked around her waist. Role-playing could be fun, he had to admit. His arm felt good around her.
“You’re not funny.” She shrugged away, but not much.
He leaned his head toward hers. “Gimme a break. You could be a little more convincing.”
She bumped her hip into his. “We’re arguing. Couples argue.”
He pulled her close. “Among other things.” Thing he shouldn’t think of. Especially not now. He whispered, “I’m going to walk around the tree. Maybe I can get a few shots.”
She closed her eyes as he spoke. “All right.”
When he released his hold on her, she wobbled as if woozy. He had to force himself to move away, not explore what other powers he might hold over her.
The pine tree’s sweeping branches presented an obstacle, but he pushed them out of the way and soon she was out of sight, but her warmth still penetrated him.
****
Not Sydney’s finest idea, to spend another evening with Ben. Thank goodness he ran away from her. Again.
Probably all her babbling about her skin, thick or otherwise. If he’d questioned it, she’d blame dehydration. Just thinking of it, her skin warmed in embarrassment. The night’s chill wouldn’t be a problem. If she continued her babbling, she could keep herself warm all night.
Still, she hoped he didn’t think of her as thick-skinned. Because she immersed herself in her work, she could give that appearance without meaning to.
For the benefit of a middle-aged couple walking toward the door, she pulled out her cell phone and pretended to answer a call. When they were out of earshot, she asked, “See anything?”
Branches crackled.
“Ben?” she whispered.
The shutter clicked several times, and branches swayed.
“What’s going on?” Must be something, if he’s taking photos.
“Shh. Hold on.” Another succession of clicks. After a moment, the branches opened out as he made his way through.
He brushed the front of his shirt. “I got a few…”
A stocky man in a white overshirt walked from the back of the restaurant carrying a garbage bag. “Hey – what’re
you doing?”
In a whoosh, Sydney was in Ben’s arms. His warm, soft lips on hers sent an explosion of light through her brain, and its rumblings reverberated through her. A whimper escaped as she slid her arms tight around his waist and held on. With a moan, his hands slid low on her back, and his hips ground against hers. Her breaths came hard as she met his thrusting tongue with her own.
“Get a room,” the man muttered. The back door slammed shut.
The urgency left them, but neither let go. She relaxed into him, relishing the feel of his lips, touch she’d missed for more than a year. She wanted to remember this. It wasn’t likely to happen again.
She opened her eyes. He held his closed. He looked so relaxed, so content.
All the tension had left her body, as if she’d had a long massage coupled with electroshock therapy. Kissing someone her own height had distinct advantages. This kiss was especially nice.
Her lips slid from his. “That was close.”
His face inches from hers; he moved his hands higher on her back. “Very.”
She held back a smile. “I think he’s gone.”
He let out a long breath. “Sydney…” His words trailed as he appeared to struggle with what he wanted to say.
Still holding her, his eyes widened as two figures stepped from the walkway into the parking lot. His muscles tightened. “There goes the mayor.”
Sydney suddenly hated the mayor.
As he held her, he pulled his Nikon around and squeezed the shutter a few more times. “This lighting sucks. Their faces won’t be identifiable. And now they’re leaving. We need to get back to the truck fast.”
The headlights lit, and the car engine roared.
Ben pulled up his collar, and Sydney ducked her head. They strode arm in arm to his truck and scrambled in.
“Go, go.” She buckled up as fast as she could.
He revved the engine. “I’m going, I’m going. This isn’t exactly a performance vehicle, you know.” His sarcastic tone erased the pleasure of the moments before.
He pulled out slowly, waiting to turn on his headlights until the car had merged into traffic. They rode in silence as Ellen’s car turned down several side streets, then parked outside a townhouse. The mayor and his press secretary hurried up the walkway to the door. Ellen unlocked it and they both entered.
His foot on the brake, Ben juggled the steering wheel and the camera.
“Damn, damn,” he said, lowering the Nikon. “I missed it. I should’ve had you drive.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” She hadn’t thought clearly since he kissed her. The slow progress she’d made since he’d come to Harrisburg had been reversed the moment his lips touched hers. It would take months to recover from his kiss again.
“We’ll have to wait.” He backed into a spot on the end, in clear view of the door.
Minutes dragged by in silence. She rubbed her temple as a dull throb set in.
“Another headache?” He looked at her with concern.
She turned toward the window. “I’m fine.” Depending on the definition.
“Give me your hands.” He put down his camera and took her hands in his.
“What? No, I’m fine. What are you doing?” She tried to pull her hands away, but he tightened his grip.
“Relax.” He massaged the spaces between her thumbs and forefingers. “Better?”
The sensation was relaxing and exciting at the same time. Like his kiss. “You didn’t answer me.”
His thumbs dug gently into her hands. “I’m stimulating your active points.”
“Pardon?” She let her mind wander, imagined him stimulating other active points.
He glanced up. Light danced in his eyes. “Acupressure. It unblocks your chi.”
“Really.” She could point out other areas her chi was blocked and had been for too long.
His fingers worked deep into her skin. “Turn more toward me.” Before she could argue, he pulled her shoulders so she faced him. “It works better on the Tai Yang meridian point.” His thumbs touched her temples and moved in a circular motion. “Close your eyes.”
She did as he said, luxuriating in his touch, trying not to get lost in it. “So, is this a hobby? A side job?”
“Shh.” She could hear his smile.
“Did you take a class?” The longer he touched her, the more she wanted him to. It took all her willpower not to slide her arms around him and pull him close again.
“Kind of.” His voice held a sardonic edge.
“Ah.” She smiled a lazy smile. “A girlfriend taught you.” The ultimate one-on-one education.
“Yes. Unfortunately, I think I gave her more headaches than I cured.”
She loved his voice, but especially in the darkness, sitting close to her.
“I can’t imagine that. This is so nice. My head feels much better.” She opened her eyes, and looked into his. She swallowed hard. “But shouldn’t one of us be watching the townhouse?”
A bucket of cold water might have had the same effect. He froze, his eyes wide with anxiety, as if he’d awoken from a dream and was starting to realize what he’d done.
“You’re right.” He leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath.
She wished she could take the words back. Too late. It always seemed to be too late for them.
The truck felt too small. “My God, what are they doing in there?”
“Be serious.” His voice held irritation. He moved the camera from the seat to his lap. His look insinuated he knew exactly what they were doing.
With a start, she looked away. “You don’t know that.” Though it was the only likely explanation.
Irritation edged his low voice. “Should I sneak up to the window again?”
Again. It reminded her. She turned to face him. “What were you photographing earlier?”
He adjusted a button on the Nikon. “He kissed her. In the hallway.” He looked up at her.
An indescribable sadness washed over her. Love seemed a complete farce. Unattainable for even a moment. “And they weren’t even in spy mode.”
“Oh, they were in spy mode.” His smile was sly. “But I’ll bet they aren’t now.”
A chill crept into the truck, making her shiver. Ben kept his focus on the townhouse. He’d been closer to her than anyone in a long time. How sad, she thought, that her life was so empty. She spent too much time discouraging men, letting her job always take priority.
If he was close before, Ben was far away now. Pressed against his door, and looked as if he wished he were farther.
She rubbed her arms, and then considered him. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Sydney.” His voice held a warning: don’t go there.
“You could have just hugged me,” she suggested. She wished he were still massaging her hands, her temple. Her lips.
“It was a spur of the moment reaction.” Sadness filled his eyes above furrowed brows.
The townhouse door opened, catching her eye. “Finally.” Glad another awkward moment had been put out of its misery, she watched as the mayor and Ellen walked to her car and climbed in.
He squeezed off a round of shots, then started the truck.
“On the road again.” He didn’t hurry; he knew where they were headed. The mall parking lot.
When they arrived, he slid his pickup behind a van, away from the tall spotlight.
The mayor jumped from the car. Ellen, waving, exited and handed him something. Ben clicked away as they kissed.
“Oh, yes,” he said, as if his favorite team had just scored. He scanned through the digital images. “Not great, but at least they’re identifiable.”
She leaned closer to see the photos. “Good work.”
He glanced at her. “You too.”
Her reporter’s pad held sparse notes. Few words would be needed to tell this story. “I guess we should go.” She settled in her seat as he turned the ignition without argument.
****
&nbs
p; The next day’s Harrisburg News featured one of Ben’s photos, front page above the fold. A close-up of Mayor Reeves and his press secretary in a compromising position.
There would be no compromising for the mayor now. Ben hoped it would be a different story for himself.
The mayor’s office issued a statement of apology, but also rebuffed the press for intruding on his personal life.
Claudia whipped off an editorial for the next edition that left no room for argument. The personal ethics of any elected official, she wrote, should reflect his professional ethics. If he conducted himself so poorly and without regard to consequence in his personal affairs, what could the public expect from his actions while in office?
Ben hoped she didn’t mean it as a message for him as well. He’d mentally kicked himself a thousand times for kissing Sydney. With every kick came the urge to feel his lips on hers again.
Constituents sent angry letters to the editor, calling for Mayor Reeves to step down. Calls flooded City Hall’s phone lines echoing the sentiment.
Ben considered the same option. Leave the newspaper? Few others existed in this area, mostly smaller circulation papers. His career would go down the tubes for certain.
He watched Sydney head for Claudia’s office. Probably had another brainstorm. He had to admit, working with her excited him on many levels. Her drive, her professionalism, her curiosity all provided incentive to perform his own job better.
Just keep the damn excitement to a minimum.
Apparently, not a problem for Sydney. She hardly acknowledged his existence.
****
Sydney was drawn to Claudia’s office. Inside her, a need burned to unburden herself, share with her friend all her conflicting feelings about Ben. His kiss still burned on her lips.
She also needed her editor’s confidence. She said two words. “Great editorial.”
Claudia took off her reading glasses. “I wrote what I felt.”
“What were you thinking for a follow-up?”
Her editor smiled. “Any ideas?”
Sydney had a few. “Man in the street interviews, a random sampling of public opinion.” Minus photos. Or she could snap a few herself.
Claudia nodded. Together, they mapped out how the polling would be published online and in print.
Picture This Page 8
