The Rebel

by Adrienne Giordano

  Amanda poked him in the chest. “I like it. Good thinking.”

  “Eh. I can’t take all the credit. My mother said she paved the way.”

  He cocked his arm out and she glanced down, a slow smile drifting across her face. After that poke to the chest, he didn’t think linking her arm with his would be a hardship. Except waiting for her to respond could be a slow, paralyzing rejection and he couldn’t seem to move his arm.

  When she finally grabbed hold, his stomach unclenched enough that he might actually be able to put food in it.

  It’d been months—many—since he’d walked arm in arm with a woman. In Boston, he’d kept to himself, dating occasionally but not anyone steady. Mostly, dating was about sex and getting it and he had a knack for finding just the right women. Ones who, like him, wanted a good time and would treat the person well when they were together. All in all, not a bad life. No strings, no responsibilities, no hassles.

  Now, with Amanda’s arm tucked in his, it made him think the life he’d left in Boston wasn’t so great. It had worked then. Got him through. Being home, though, seeing his younger sister and brother in relationships and on their way to settling down made him the only one without a significant other at the dinner table, and he wasn’t sure he liked that.

  “Phew,” he cracked. “Scared me there.”

  “I can’t imagine anything scares you.”

  “A lot of things scare me,” he said. “I’m not about to admit them, though.”

  “Except your mother.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. That one I’ll own. Everyone is afraid of her.”

  “I like you, David Hennings.”

  Good to know. Because he liked her, too.

  * * *

  MRS. DYCE CHARGED into the lobby of the youth center, her conservative heels clicking against the tile and her face lit up like a kid’s at Christmas. She wrapped David in a hug that should have broken his spine. The woman was a good seven inches smaller than him, but she had one hell of a grip.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you.” She released him but still held on to his arms. “Have you seen Brian? He stopped over the other night and mentioned he’d called you.”

  In the years David had been acquainted with this family, certain things never changed. Mrs. Dyce’s energy for one. Still rail thin, she moved quickly, all the time, and she never said just one thing. It was always a rush of thoughts that flew. Some would call her impulsive, but that, in his opinion, didn’t fit. She had stamina and a brain that operated on rapid-fire 100 percent of the time.

  “Yep. Getting together next weekend. We got caught up on the phone, though.”

  “Good.”

  She stepped back and held her hand to Amanda. “How nice to see you again, Amanda. Welcome. Come back to my office and we’ll talk.”

  He gestured Amanda ahead of him and followed her down the long hallway lined with doors on each side. The walls had been painted a sandy beige rather than the stark white they’d been the last time David visited. The beige was better. Warmer. More welcoming.

  Ahead of him, Amanda’s head swung back and forth as she took in the various artwork along the way. Nothing fancy or overdone, but enough to give the corridor some life.

  Near the end of the hallway, Mrs. Dyce hung a right into her office and waved them to the guest chairs in front of her desk. She tucked her hair—was it more red than the last time he’d seen her?—behind her ears and took a seat behind the desk. Like his mother, she was high profile in the city and often wound up in the local media. With that came pressure to look a certain way, and Mrs. Dyce took that seriously. She’d definitely had a face-lift recently, because her skin was as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and at her age, that just wasn’t possible. But she looked healthy and elegant and camera ready.

  She closed an open file on her desk and set it aside, giving them her complete attention. “Tell me why you’re here.” She leveled one of her playful smiles on him. “Other than you missed me dragging you around by your ear.”

  Amanda slid him a pointed look. Together, these two women would be a handful. Add them to the list of things he feared. He smacked his hands together. “Anyway...”

  Mrs. Dyce laughed. “Yes. Anyway.”

  David held up the large envelope containing extra copies of the sketch. “I think my mom mentioned Amanda is helping the police on a cold case.”

  “It came up when I spoke to her yesterday. Something about an unidentified skull.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Amanda has completed a composite image of what the victim might look like. She’s also doing a reconstruction.”

  If Mrs. Dyce’s eyebrows could move, they would have, but the overall effect was her eyes widening. “A reconstruction.” She drew out the word. “As in you’ll re-create the face?”

  Amanda nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Fascinating. How wonderful.”

  David pushed one of the copies of the sketch across the table. “This is Amanda’s rendering of what the person may have looked like. Do you think you could show it to Mr. Dyce or some of your contacts at the shelters? Maybe someone saw her. It’s a long shot, but...”

  She kept her eyes on David as she leaned forward to glance at the sketch. “Absolutely. But five years is a long time, David. Thousands of people go through city shelters. I know just from the number of kids I see here every day how hard it is to remember everyone.”

  “But it’s worth a try, right?”

  “It’s always worth a try. Who knows? With everyone Mr. Dyce knows and my contacts, maybe someone will recognize her.” She picked up the sketch and studied it for a minute, and her lips parted slightly. She looked back at Amanda. “You drew this? It’s quite good.”

  “I did. I had the skull to work from. It won’t be exact, but I’m hoping it’s close. The real details will come when I do the reconstruction. I like to think of the sketch as the blueprint.”

  “Well, it’s an amazing blueprint. I’d love to see some of your work. Maybe we could set something up?”

  “I’d like that.” She dug in her purse for a card and handed it over. “Call me anytime. I could bring you some things to look at.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Seeing as they’d done what they came to do—and even got Amanda a potential client as a bonus—David stood. “We won’t keep you.”

  He held his hand out, helping Amanda from the chair, and the normalcy of it, the feel of her skin against his—he liked it. So he held on, linking his fingers with hers.

  Taking note of the gesture, Mrs. Dyce gave him a wry smile. “Mr. Dyce will be sorry he missed you. He’s out at a meeting.”

  “Tell him congratulations on the presidential appointment. What an honor after all the work you have done.”

  In Chicago, the Dyce name was known for raising awareness of gang and gun violence. When they organized rallies, thousands flooded the streets to hear Mr. Dyce speak. And now those years of work had made him a household name in Washington and grabbed the attention of the president.

  “I will. He’s thrilled. And anxious to make a difference not just here, but across the country.”

  David grinned. “Spoken like a true politician’s wife.”

  “Young man, I can still drag you around by your ear.”

  He leaned down and pecked her on the cheek. “I know. Forgive me.”

  “It’s good to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” She waved them out. “Get out of here, you two. Go make a difference.”

  * * *

  SITTING IN THE FRONT passenger seat of David’s SUV, Amanda studied his condo building, a four-story brick structure that, if she guessed correctly, dated back to the early 1900s. Given David’s reaction to the building she lived in—the condemned one—his choice of home came as no surprise. The man had a thing for history and
classic architecture. This building’s aged brick and avant-garde rounded edges reflected both.

  “I love your building,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that last night.”

  His beautiful mouth with those totally kissable full lips twisted into a smile. “Thanks. Before I even saw the inside, I wanted to live here. It’s a total throwback.”

  “That’s how I felt about my place.”

  “Speaking of which—”

  “No news from my landlord.”

  David shook his head. “If you don’t hear anything by the end of the day, I’ll get on it. See if I can scare up any info. For now,” he held a key up, “here’s my extra key for you. Come and go as you please.”

  Her fingers brushed his as she wrapped her hand around the dangling key and his sultry dark blue eyes bore right into her, leaving her body tense but a little gooey all at the same time.

  Where should she take this?

  Easily she could invite him inside and they could pull up a couple of the folding chairs they’d bought the night before and talk. And...um...other things.

  She bit her bottom lip and thought about those other things and her cheeks fired.

  “Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he said.

  “Thank you. But, so help me, David, if you come inside I won’t get any work done.”

  At that, he laughed. He leaned over and brushed his fingers down the side of her face, slowly moving over the curve of her cheek, along her jaw, to her mouth, where he ran the pad of his thumb over her lips. “If that’s meant to scare me off, it’s not working.”

  She dipped her head and rubbed her cheek along his fingertips. “It is your condo. I have no right to tell you when you can be here.”

  But his being there, with the energy between them, would lead to things. Things she wasn’t ready for. The man unnerved her and it felt like too much too soon. No matter what, too much too soon was never good. Safe zone. That was where she needed to stay. No highs or lows. Particularly now with her home and studio situation leaving her life in flux.

  Now she’d send him on his way. Even if her hormones didn’t like it.

  “I’m not staying,” he said. “In case you were wondering. I have a contractor waiting on me at my office.”

  She pushed the door open but didn’t move. A gust of wind blew her hair into her face and she shoved it back. “Okay.”

  “Unless you want me to.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “What?”

  She sighed and rested her head back against the seat. “I really sort of stink at relationships. I like you. There’s a vibe that makes me want you close. I’m a girl used to being on her own, so I’m confused by it.”

  He pulled a face, flopping his lower lip out. “We’re getting acquainted. Just let it happen. Why do you have to feel a certain way right now?”

  “Because loss isn’t easy for me.” And once again, diarrhea of the mouth around him. Loss isn’t easy? Goodness, if that didn’t send the man running, she might have to marry him. “I’m...”

  He held up his hands. “You’re careful. I get it.”

  “But?”

  “If you never took a chance on anyone or anything, what fun is that? Are you going to live your life in neutral?”

  Another blast of wind whipped through the open door and she shivered. At the cold and his colossal nerve. “I don’t live my life in neutral.”

  “When was the last time you went on a date?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  His head dipped forward. “Really?”

  Take that, fella. “Yes. I date. I happen to be an attractive woman.”

  “Believe me, I know. Let me rephrase.”

  “Says the lawyer.”

  A fast smile lit his face. “And she’s quick on her feet, too. When’s the last time you had a relationship? Not just casual.”

  Easy question. There had only been a handful of guys she deemed relationship material. Each of them heartbreaking and enough to make her not want to play in that sandbox. “Three years. And I’ve been happy.”

  “But you just told me you’re not sure how you feel. I think whatever you’re feeling now is different in some way. It’s not the status quo for you. Unless you make a habit of telling men you want them close. In which case, most men would willingly oblige and you’d have a revolving door.”

  For sure, the man had a sharp tongue. And she now had a taste of what life must be like between him and his sister. “Did you really just say that to me?”

  “Yeah. I did. Not that I believe it. My point is whatever this is between us, it’s not the norm for you. You told me that. It’s not for me, either. Last girlfriend I had drove me insane. That was a year ago and I’ve been fine on my own. But now?” He shrugged. “I like being around you. Why can’t we let things roll? See where it goes?”

  “Because then I’d have to trust that you won’t break my heart. That the highs won’t be too high and the lows too low.”

  Again he ran his fingers under her chin, this time tipping her head back. “Your theory is if you go through life without heartbreak you won’t suffer the lows. What about never having the highs, either? If you ask me, going through life in neutral kinda stinks.”

  Sure it did. She cocked her head, away from his fingers, and he took the hint, dropping his hand.

  “David, my mom had highs and lows all the time. It was horrible. For her and for us. There was no middle ground. No neutral. I don’t need that stress. I’m okay with my life. I’m not unhappy. I’m not lonely. I take care of myself. Independently.” She waved her hand. “Neutral, as you put it, isn’t so bad.”

  “But what if there’s something better than neutral?”

  “Is that what you think this is?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. But what if it can be? I wouldn’t want you constantly keeping me at a distance because you’re afraid of getting hurt. Sitting here, I know before I even leave that I want to see you tomorrow. I like that kind of fire. I want to run headfirst into it. You’d have to want to do it with me, though.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes locked on his, the intensity ripping her body in two. Why did everything he said make sense when it was the dead last thing she wanted? This was the battle. To stay steady and not be like her mother. Not allow her emotions to dictate her actions.

  But, heaven help her, she wanted to kiss this man in the worst way. Taste his lips, draw his breath, feel his skin against hers.

  “Come on, Amanda, let loose a little.”

  “I hate you, David Hennings.”

  “I know.”

  Moving quickly, he leaned over the console and kissed her.

  She reached up, squeezed the soft leather of his jacket and breathed in his musky and ultra-male scent while he drove his free hand through her hair and went crazy on her lips, nipping and licking. She moaned softly, the sound low in her throat sparking her brain to overload.

  So hot. So...so...astonishing.

  Slow it down. That was what she needed. She slid her hand back down his shoulder, softened the kiss and dropped short, quick pecks on his lips, most definitely putting the brakes on.

  He eased back, dotted kisses along her jaw and grinned. “Well, that was...electrifying. You may have noticed.”

  “I did notice. Too much so for sitting in your car in the middle of the day.”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mind so much. Any time you want to try again, I’m ready, willing and very able.”

  Coming from the family he did, he had clearly never had a problem with confidence. And without a doubt, he excelled at the art of kissing.

  “David, I don’t know quite what to do with you.”

  “I can make a few suggestions.”

  She snorted. �
��You are such a man.”

  “Thank you.”

  Finally, she laughed, the angst from a second ago peeling away. She waggled her fingers between them. “You’re good at this, aren’t you?”

  “Uh...”

  “Not the kissing.”

  “Ouch.”

  “No! You’re definitely good at that, too. Trust me.”

  Feigning effort, he wiped his brow. “Phew.”

  She grabbed the edge of his unzipped jacket and balled it in her hand. “I was talking about defusing tension. I was embarrassed and you took care of it. Lickety-split, bam.”

  He pulled her close again and kissed her. Softly this time, barely a brush of their lips. Too easy. Natural. And something she wanted more of.

  Often.

  “I need to go,” he said. “My contractor is waiting on me. Think about what I said. I plan on sweeping you off your feet.”

  Chapter Seven

  Midmorning the following day, David stood in the middle of his empty living room while Lexi waxed poetic about the subtleties of the dark brown paint sample she’d sloshed onto his wall. It had some fancy name, but really, all he saw was brown.

  “Lexi, it’s brown.”

  “It’s not brown. This is more than brown. It has flecks of silver in it. This screams sophisticated. It would be perfect with those steel tables I showed you.”

  “Amanda!” David called. A minute later she poked her head out of the bedroom where she’d set up her temporary studio. She must have had a rough night because she appeared pale, more drawn than yesterday, and it only accentuated the dark rings under her eyes. “What do you think of this brown?”

  “I like it.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s masculine and neutral at the same time. Purple, orange and yellow would work well with it. Red also.”

  Huh. What the hell did he know? “Okay. Thanks.”

  Before Amanda disappeared again, Lexi held up her hand. “What’s happening with your building?”

  “Not sure yet. My landlord is working on it.”