Banning's Woman

by Ruth Langan

  Bren gave a throaty laugh. “You did say comfortable.”

  He handed her a glass. “I did. And that looks comfortable enough to sleep in.”

  “I hope you aren’t thinking of sticking around to see for yourself.”

  “A guy can hope, can’t he?” He gave her a slow, steady look before turning away.

  While he rummaged through the pots and pans in her cupboard, Bren took a moment to sip her wine. The smoldering look he’d given her had her throat as dry as dust.

  He held a shiny pan aloft. “Haven’t you ever used any of these?”

  She shook her head. “No time.”

  “I thought so. They look like props in a movie. Are you sure it’s all right with you if they get dirty?”

  “I’m fine with it. In fact, I’ll clean up whatever mess you make, as long as you’re willing to feed me.”

  She set two places at the small, glass-topped table before leaning against the counter and watching in silence as he worked. He looked completely comfortable in her small kitchen, heating water for pasta, sautéing onions and green pepper in a skillet. Soon the room was perfumed with the wonderful aroma of rolls dusted with Parmesan cheese, and veal in a light wine sauce.

  He lifted the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses. “I didn’t cook the veal or the pasta sauce. I picked it up at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. The owner, Tony, is an old friend. But I think you’ll like it.”

  “As long as I don’t have to cook it, I guarantee I’ll love it.” She sipped her wine and sighed. “Most career women covet a good cleaning staff. I’d settle for a live-in cook. Interested?”

  “I could be.” He gave her another of those steamy looks that were guaranteed to send her heartbeat soaring. “It would depend on the perks of the job. Could I get to see what my boss wears to bed?”

  She managed a laugh, despite the fact that she wasn’t certain he was kidding. “Sorry. The only guys who ever got to see what I wore while sleeping were my brothers.”

  “I’m not your brother, Bren.” He touched a finger to her cheek. Just a touch, but it sent heat streaking straight to her core. “In fact, if your brothers knew what I was thinking right now, they’d draw straws to see which of them could have the pleasure of tearing off my hide.”

  “You don’t know my brothers. They wouldn’t waste time drawing straws. You’d have to fight off all three of them at once.”

  “Tough guys, are they?”

  “Yeah. You should have seen some of my poor unlucky dates back in high school and college. Not only did they have to pass muster with my three brothers, but then they had to deal with Pop.”

  “I suppose it’s harder for a grandfather to accept that his little girl is growing up than it is for a father.”

  She nodded. “If Pop had his way, I’d still be considered too young to go out on dates.”

  “How old are you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Twenty-eight. Just saying that gives me shivers.”

  He laughed. “Try saying thirty-five and single.” He turned away to drain the pasta, before arranging it on a plate.

  Bren watched the slow, easy way he moved. Like a cat. Nothing hurried or rushed. He lifted two salads from the counter and carried them to the table. Then he returned to the stove to pour sauce over the pasta, before bringing it to the table.

  If she’d thought him handsome in a uniform, he looked even better in faded denims and a T-shirt. The muscles of his back and upper arms flexed as he set down the platter and turned toward the stove. Minutes later he set a plate of steaming veal in wine sauce and looked over at her.

  “Dinner’s ready, Ms. Lassiter.”

  When she walked to the table he was holding her chair. She sat and felt his hand brush her shoulder. He allowed it to linger a moment longer before taking the place across from her.

  She glanced over, wondering if he knew what his touch did to her. Judging by the smile on his face, he knew exactly what he was doing. Now if only she did.

  She tasted the salad, then looked up in surprise. “This is good. I want that restaurant’s dressing.”

  “The only thing the restaurant supplied is the veal and sauce. I make my own dressing.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m finding this a little hard to believe.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He spooned pasta onto her plate, then added thin slices of veal. “Try the pesto sauce. I added my own touch to it. You’re going to love it.”

  She tasted, then gave a murmur of approval.

  Chris couldn’t help smiling at the look on her face as she emptied her plate and helped herself to seconds.

  “When’s the last time you ate?”

  “Like this? Days ago. Maybe weeks or more. Oh, Chris, this is fantastic.”

  He sat back grinning. “Well, Ms. Lassiter, I believe I’m going to enjoy cooking for you.”

  “I’m betting you learned how to do all these fancy things in the kitchen at some expensive prep school. Am I right?”

  “Why a prep school?”

  She laughed. “It’s not something you can hide, Chris Banning. You just have the look of a preppie.”

  He drained his glass of wine, weighing his answer carefully. Then with a shrug he stood and began clearing the table. “I’ve been cooking for myself since I was a twelve-year-old kid with nobody to lean on.”

  Bren opened the dishwasher and began loading the dirty dishes as he handed them to her. “Where were your parents?”

  “Gone.” He gave a grim laugh. “Not for the first time. They used to take off periodically, leaving my sister and me to fend for ourselves. But when I was twelve they never came back.”

  Puzzled, Bren dried her hands on a kitchen towel. “How old was your sister?”

  “Marti was fourteen. But tough enough and savvy enough to make herself look about eighteen, so we were able to fool the social workers and the neighbors for quite a while before we were found out.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “We were put into foster care. They couldn’t find anyone willing to take on two obstinate teens, so Marti was placed in one home, while I was sent halfway across the city to another.”

  “Did you get to see each other?”

  “Only when we ran away. Which was often. But we were always caught and sent back. The last time we made a pact that as soon as Marti was old enough she’d come for me, and we’d never be apart again.”

  “I can understand that.” Bren carefully draped the towel over the edge of the sink and thought about the feelings she had for her brothers. “If I’d been separated from my fam ily, it would have broken my heart. To say nothing of my spirit.” She looked over at him. “How did you survive?”

  He shrugged. “I counted the days, the weeks, the months, until Marti and I would get our own place together and get on with our lives. I focused all my energy on that goal.”

  She smiled. “When you’re twelve, the waiting can seem interminable.”

  He nodded. “But I found ways to pass the time. Mostly by getting into as much trouble as possible. And then one day my foster parents told me that Marti had run away again. This time the authorities didn’t find her until it was too late.”

  Bren saw the bleak look in his eyes and braced herself. “She was…dead?”

  “Of a drug overdose.”

  “Oh, Chris.” She placed a hand over his on the kitchen counter.

  He studied it without moving. Then looked up. “It turned out that she’d been hanging with a tough crowd, staying out all night. I guess that was the last straw for me. I’d been pinning all my hopes on getting out of the system once she turned eighteen, and now I realized I was in for the long haul.”

  Bren stayed where she was as he turned away, paced, then leaned a hip against the counter. “I went a little nuts. It started with petty crimes. Shoplifting. Then moved up to bigger things. Grand theft auto. And all before my sixteenth birthday. My foster family wanted nothing more to do with me. Th
ey sent me to a youth home, where I met guys who knew even better ways to break the law. That should have been the end of the line for me, except for one thing. Or maybe I should say except for one man. Mike Banning. He was the toughest police sergeant I’d ever come across. I figured he was going to bust me good. Instead, he took me home with him. He and his wife Mary Lou gave me something I’d never dreamed I would have in this lifetime.”

  Bren arched a brow.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “A real home. They let me know that there wasn’t anything I could do that would turn them against me. And they proved it time and again while I worked through enough anger to sink the Titanic. They even adopted me, though it took a lot of paperwork to have me made a legal ward of the court first, in order to prove to me that they were in this for a lifetime. I went from being Christopher McAllister to Christopher Banning. I think that’s when my anger subsided and I discovered to my surprise that I had a good mind. With almost no effort I could pull down top grades in school.” He grinned. “You may think I look like prep school material, but I went to an inner-city school before getting into Georgetown on a scholarship. Mike and Mary Lou told me I could be anything in the world I wanted. They hoped I’d be a guidance counselor or go into social work. But in the end all I really wanted was to be like Mike. So after college I joined the police force.”

  “Oh, Chris. That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah. The happy ending.” He managed a smile. “It’s nice to know that I made them both proud before they died.”

  “They’re both gone?”

  He nodded. “Mike fought cancer for more than a year, but the cancer won. After that, I think Mary Lou’s heart was too broken to ever mend. So within the year she was gone, too.”

  “And you’re alone now.”

  “Not for the first time. I’ve learned it’s not the worst thing in the world.” He rummaged through the shopping bag and came up with a carton containing two slices of cheesecake drizzled with strawberries.

  Bren stared at them a moment, then burst into laughter. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you made this yourself.”

  “You’re right. Mine’s better. Tony threw this in as a bonus.”

  “Has Tony been reading my mind?”

  “You were craving cheesecake?”

  “Desperately.” She took a bite while he returned to the kitchen counter and plugged in the coffeemaker.

  By the time the coffee was ready, they had both devoured their dessert.

  Chris filled two cups and looked over at her. “How do you take this?”

  “Black.”

  He carried the two cups and followed her to the sofa in the other room.

  She sipped and sighed. “I’m feeling so much better now.”

  “Yeah. So am I.”

  Bren looked over at him. “Did Mike and Mary Lou have any children of their own?”

  “No.” He stared down into his cup. “It must have been hard for two people who’d spent a lifetime caring for each other to sud denly find themselves with this angry, moody kid in their lives. But they never showed me anything except love and patience.” He shook his head. “Sometimes when I’m dealing with gang violence, I find myself knowing that I’d have been one of those punks. I was already headed down that road. If it hadn’t been for Mike and Mary Lou, I’d have been one of the lost.”

  “Did you ever locate your parents?”

  She saw a look come into his eyes. A mixture of anger and something she couldn’t quite define, but it was frightening to see.

  He stretched out his long legs, forcing himself to relax. “I never looked for them. As far as I’m concerned, they no longer exist.”

  “What would you do if you had to confront them?”

  “I’ve asked myself that question. But I’ve never come up with the answer. I don’t know what I’d do. I hope I never have to find out.”

  Bren snuggled into the corner of the sofa and leaned her head back, studying him. “Did you call the Bannings Mom and Dad?”

  He shook his head. “I guess I figured I was too old for that. I was never very good with affectionate titles. I called them Mike and Mary Lou.” He saw Bren stifle a yawn and picked up his empty cup, carrying it to the kitchen.

  She got to her feet. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting out of here so you can get some sleep.” He stopped in front of her. “Unless, of course, you’d like me to share your bed tonight. Still, I doubt you’d get any sleep.”

  She laughed. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  He drew her close and brushed his mouth over hers. “You just say the word, and I’ll be happy to prove my point.”

  “I get your point, Captain.” She placed her fingers over his mouth to stop him from kissing her again. “Now I think you’d better get going.”

  “Killjoy.” He held her a short distance away. The smile was suddenly gone from his eyes. “I wanted you to know the truth about me up front. You have a very public career. One that can be ruined by gossip or even a little spin on the truth. If you don’t want to be associated with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks, I’ll understand.”

  She moved her hand until it was resting lightly on his cheek as she stared up into his eyes. Eyes that were narrowed on her with such a fierce look she felt her heart do a slow, crazy somersault.

  “There aren’t any tracks running through my neighborhood, Chris. Right ones or wrong ones. I admire you for what you’ve done with your life.”

  “And you wouldn’t mind if I showed up on your doorstep another night?”

  She laughed. “As long as you come bearing food, you’re welcome anytime.”

  He drew her close. Against her mouth he whispered, “Just so you know. I’ll want to do a whole lot more than feed you, Bren.”

  She sighed. “One step at a time.”

  He kissed her again. Long and slow and deep, until she felt her toes curling and her mind beginning to cloud.

  How was it possible for him to take her so high with nothing more than a kiss?

  “Consider that the first step.” He moved back, breaking contact. Then, without a backward glance, he crossed the room and let himself out.

  Leaving Bren staring at the closed door with a dazed expression.

  Chapter 5

  “Bren.” Juana Sanchez paused in the doorway of Bren’s office. “Congressman Roland Paxton just announced that he’s on his way over.”

  Bren sighed. “Did you tell him I have a twelve-o’clock appointment.”

  “She did.” The congressman’s rich baritone had both women looking up in surprise. “But what I have to say won’t take long.” He stepped past Juana and crossed to Bren’s desk, offering a handshake before settling himself in one of the leather chairs that flanked her desk.

  He was a tall, handsome man, and well aware of his appeal to his constituents. He often used that voice and commanding presence to bring recalcitrant members of his party into line whenever they threatened to stray from his often heavy-handed use of power.

  Behind him Juana rolled her eyes before closing the door.

  He pointed to the newspapers on Bren’s desk. “I see you’ve read about the latest incident between a rogue cop and an innocent citizen.”

  Bren glanced at the glaring headlines. A witness to a citizen’s fatal shooting had sworn that the shooter, though not wearing a uniform, had been driving a police car. An autopsy was scheduled for later today to determine if the bullet was police issue.

  “I’m sure all of Washington has heard of it, Roland.”

  “Then somebody ought to tell our police force. The chief was on television just an hour ago defending his men’s actions.”

  “What did you expect him to do, Roland? Abandon them?”

  “He needs to be forthright about the misfits in his outfit. Everybody knows there are men who become police officers for less than honorable reasons.”

  “Just as there are politicians who use their power for le
ss than honorable reasons.”

  He arched a brow. “Are you going over to their side, Congresswoman?”

  “I didn’t realize there were sides in this issue.”

  “If you think that, you’re a fool.” He got to his feet. “And I’ve concluded that you’re no fool, Congresswoman Lassiter. Now, I suggest you have your committee draft some strong language and get it out there to counter the swill the police are feeding our constituents. It’s time we put a leash on armed thugs.”

  Bren stood as well. “Armed thugs? I hope you’re not intending to use that term to describe our police.”

  “If the shoe fits…” He shrugged. “Whether it’s by accident or by design, innocent citizens of this town are falling victim to gunshots fired by police. If you won’t steer your committee to action, I’ll find someone who will.”

  Her head came up. “Are you threatening me, Roland?”

  He paused with his hand on the door. Turn ing, he shot her one of his smooth, polished smiles which he’d perfected during his ten years in Congress. “Not a threat, Ms. Lassiter. A warning. I was the one who had you assigned to this committee, knowing your voice, as the daughter of a fallen police hero, would carry a great deal of weight in the community. You serve on that committee at my discretion. Anytime I choose, you can be summarily dismissed. Try not to forget that.”

  Bren waited until the door closed before slumping down in her chair. Roland Paxton was one of the most powerful members of Congress. She had no doubt he would do exactly as he’d warned.

  Hadn’t she suspected that the reason she’d been assigned to this committee in the first place was because of her father’s reputation? Now Roland Paxton had just confirmed that it had nothing to do with her qualifications and everything to do with her bloodline.

  She lifted her hands to rub at her temples, where the beginning of a headache pulsed.

  Minutes later Juana poked her head in to say, “You might want to turn on the news.”

  Bren flicked a switch and watched as a reporter was shown outside police headquarters. The young woman flashed a smile at the camera before saying, “I’m here with Captain Christopher Banning. Captain Banning, in light of this latest incident, how do you answer the charges made by members of a congressional committee investigating unusual force by your officers?”