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Before the Dawn

Page 8

by Gail Chianese


  Food consumed in the office while discussing work does not a date make. If she could keep that one thought in her head, hyperventilating might be kept at bay. Earlier, the mere thought of going on a dinner date with this man had sent her breathing into overtime until she stuck her head between her knees. Thankfully, she had been alone at the time.

  “What’s with the bags?” she asked.

  “I’m hungry, skipped lunch, and thought it would be rude to eat in front of you without sharing.” He craned his head to the side, spotted the table in the kitchen/file room, and headed that way.

  Eyes tracking his retreating form, Kat debated, for about a half a second, to refuse to join him. The loud rumble from her midsection egged her to get up and enter the other room. The table was covered in white cartons.

  “That’s a lot of food for two people. What did you do? Order one of everything on the menu?” Laughing, she slid into a chair next to him, curiously inspecting the open boxes.

  He shrugged. “Not quite, just got what sounded good to me. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but Jin told me you always ordered this.”

  Accepting the carton and chopsticks, Kat peered inside to find her usual order of Dieter’s Delight with Shrimp. Which still left about seven or eight dishes for Shawn. He offered her a Crab Rangoon and as much as she wanted to accept it and let the creamy sweetness wash over her tongue, she declined for the benefit of her hips.

  Taking a bite of steamed veggies, she said, “I’m pretty sure I told you I didn’t have time for dinner tonight.”

  “No, you said you didn’t have time to go out to dinner. There’s a difference.” He reached down and brought his computer out of a backpack she hadn’t even seen. Deftly he powered it up with one hand while chowing down on the fried wontons. “We can work and eat. Best of both worlds. This way you won’t be late for whatever hot plans you have for later.”

  She hated to tell him her hot plans were nothing more than losing herself in some mindless television show since Liz Talley’s next book didn’t get released for another week.

  “You were one of those kids who always found a loophole in the rules, weren’t you? The kind who sent his mother’s heart racing faster than the winner of the Triple Crown more times than she could ever count.”

  “Nope, not me. Perfect child.” He crossed his finger in an X over his heart, but the all-too-innocent grin gave him away.

  “That’s what I thought. What was your favorite method of parental torture?”

  Having polished off the Rangoon, he grabbed the Singapore noodles and dug in, but not before offering it up to her first, which she declined.

  “Just kid stuff, you know. Riding my bike off of ramps, shooting BB guns and arrows with my cousin, usually at each other. Typical boy stuff.”

  Chopsticks digging after a shrimp, she paused. “Shooting guns and sharp pointy objects at each other is your idea of typical boy stuff?

  “Absolutely.”

  “How do parents of boys survive?”

  “I suppose girls are easier?”

  “Of course. We don’t try to kill each other. It’s all tea parties and dolls.”

  “Then boys come along—”

  “—and our lives are never the same again.” Sadness squeezed at her heart.

  “The same could be said for when girls come along.”

  Pushing the carton of food away, Kat stared at the wall, lost in her own memories. “Is it just me, or was life really better before the great discovery of the other sex?”

  “I wouldn’t say it was better, maybe easier at times, but there are definitely perks to being a grown-up and having discovered girls.” His tone, all slow and smooth, sent tingles racing down to her core.

  Can’t argue about the perks, she admitted to herself. If only they didn’t come with the complications. Shaking her head, she let a laugh escape. “So, it is true then. The only things men really do think about are sex and food.”

  “Nutrition and exercise, nothing wrong with that.”

  Looking at the man in front of her, she could get behind a program where he was both the featured item on the menu and her personal trainer. Dratted hearts and emotions, always getting in way of the fun. “Okay, so you were a dreadful little boy, scaring the bejeebers out of your poor mom at every turn.”

  “Probably, but as I’m the younger of two boys, she was prepared for me.”

  “Okay, troublemaker, rulebreaker, what else? Clearly, you’ve either got a hero complex or thought being a fireman would get you more girls, or both. And,” pointing to all the empty cartons on the table, “you love Chinese food. Tell me one thing about you that I’d never guess.”

  Picking up her food, Kat waited, giving him time to come up with an answer. Probably going to give me some lame response such as liking long walks on the beach. Or he’s a cat lover or he cries during Disney movies. Please, doesn’t everyone?

  “I ride bulls.”

  Chopsticks suspended over her food, she blinked. “Excuse me? Bulls? Like in the mechanical kind?”

  Grinning from ear to ear, he replied, “Nope, the real thing.”

  “There are rodeos in Washington?” she asked, still perplexed by his revelation.

  “Are you kidding? Ellensburg, Washington. It’s one of the top rodeos in the US. It’s two hours from where I grew up.”

  “Hmm, not sure if I think you’re a nut case or an adrenaline junkie.” Sitting forward, she leaned into his space. “What’s it like? Isn’t it terribly dangerous?”

  “Thrilling. Terrifying. A whole of lot stupid and crazy. The average mature bull weighs around two thousand pounds. A man is nothing more than a large, annoying fly on his back and he wants you off, bad. And he’s going to use all that strength to knock you off. You’ve got to use your skill and puny muscles to hold on for eight looong seconds.”

  “And then you get what? A trophy, some prize money, and if you’re lucky no new holes in your backside. Seems like a big risk for a little reward.”

  “The real prize is inside.” Excitement raced through him, showing in his eyes, in the nonstop hand motion and the pitch of his voice. “Think of it as a test of skill and courage. You’ve studied your opponent. Watched. Catalogued the best way to stay on and now it’s your turn. Your legs are shaking, your heart’s racing, and any second you’re going to piss your pants. But that’s letting the beast win, destroying everything you’ve worked for and leaving you a failure. Riding? It’s learning to face your fear, to look at something that is bigger, badder, and way more dangerous than you could ever be and defeat it.”

  Her own heart raced along with his words, feeling the excitement in her veins. She could picture him getting on the back of the bull or facing down a fire. And she got it. Understood exactly what he meant. It wasn’t that he was fearless, more that he respected the danger and acknowledged the fear it brought along, yet wouldn’t let it conquer him.

  Too bad she lacked that ability these days.

  “Fighting fires, it’s sort of the same thing, isn’t it? A test of skill and courage? Going up against an unpredictable foe, one who wouldn’t think twice about outsmarting you and snuffing out your life.”

  Nodding, a slow spread of a smile graced his face. “Yeah, that’s it exactly.” He grabbed another container of food. “Okay, so what’s the one thing about you, I’d never guess in all of eternity?”

  “I’m not an outdoorsy type.”

  Taking a slow inventory from her toes up, he met her eyes. “Try again. I already knew that. Come on, you showed up at a burn site in designer boots and a pink hard hat.”

  “Fine, I’m addicted to romance novels.”

  “Aren’t all women?”

  What could she tell him that would be shocking? She had a green thumb? Nope, boring. That she had loving, supportive parents? Snoozeville. He’d probably be shocked to hear that they had two interns, and one of them was not only a former mobster, but a ghost. But the first wasn’t her secret to tell, and the second would
make him think she was crazy.

  “Okay, granted it’s not nearly as interesting as riding a cow, but occasionally, I go ghost hunting with a friend of mine.”

  “That’s cool. Ever see one?”

  Seriously? No shock. No looking at her like she was crazy. Even Lexie, her best friend, thought she was crazy for going ghost hunting. Who needed to do that when they had one haunting them? Although, Vinnie was the only ghost she’d ever seen. Good or bad? The jury was still out on that question. Shawn, though, simply rolled with the punches and she found his easygoing, accepting attitude refreshing.

  “No, I’ve not seen one, yet,” she lied. “Although one of these days we’ll get one in our ghost trap and I’ll be sure to let you know. Want to come sometime?”

  His whole body went still, eyes dilated into dark simmering pools of heat. It took her a moment for what she’d said to sink in. Smooth.

  His body relaxed a smidge as the flames crawled up her neck and spread across her cheeks.

  “Sweet, but I think I’ll pass.” His body might have relaxed, but his vocal cords still sounded like they were strung tight.

  “I meant ghost hunting.” Of course she did. “Not afraid of ghosts, are you?”

  “What? No, that’s ridiculous. Some wispy white whatever? What’s to be afraid of?” He laughed, but it was forced.

  “Mm-hmm.” Shaking her head, she let out a sigh and gestured toward the computer. “We need to get to work.” With that the whole atmosphere changed, all frivolity gone, chased away by the somber topic of arson and murder.

  Kat brought him up to speed on the interviews, emphasizing that no one remembered a person matching the description Oakheart had given.

  “He could have changed his appearance and dropped the accent while in or near the clinic.” Standing, Shawn blew out a breath and paced. “We need to get a break here. I’ve got less than a month until I leave and I’d hate to have to pass off this case unresolved.”

  The statement shouldn’t have meant anything, shouldn’t have caused the slight panic to race through her mind. “Leave? Are you going on vacation?”

  Dropping back into the chair, he shook his head and began typing. “Nope, got a job in Seattle. Luckily for us we do have another lead.” Shawn filled her in on his mystery caller and what little information she had given him.

  “What do you think she knows?” Kat tried to keep her focus on the work, not on the disappointment running through her.

  “Could be anything or nothing. But either way, I’ll find out tonight.”

  “We’ll find out tonight.” Shaking her head to cut him off, Kat continued. “It could be a setup. Yeah, I know that sounds dramatic and cliché, but clichés exist for a reason.”

  He gathered up all the empty food containers, and that was all of them, as he’d left nothing behind. How he stayed thin was a mystery and one she wished she knew the answer to.

  “I’m not going to be alone, not technically. I called the detective in charge. Daines will be somewhere watching.”

  “Fine, but so will I.”

  “Kat, it could be dangerous. I don’t think it’s a setup, but it is a bad neighborhood at night. I may be planning to leave this job, but until then, it’s still my business and it means everything to me.”

  Great, another freaking alpha male who looked at a woman and automatically assumed she was fragile and couldn’t take care of herself. Her ex-fiancé, the lying, cheating rat-bastard, had thought he needed to take care of her too. He’d refused to acknowledge that as a private investigator she was trained in weapons and hand-to-hand fighting. Not to mention, she had a brain in her head, one that worked perfectly fine and could do more than match an outfit to an occasion.

  Disappointment filled her, ripping away the easy, happy mood their earlier conversation had created. Once again, her dream of someday finding a man who treated her as an equal, with respect, and loved her fully had been crushed. Granted, she barely knew Shawn and had no intentions of getting involved with him or anyone at this time. But someday, she hoped, she would be brave enough to face her fear and fight her own beast back.

  He held his ground. Normally she didn’t consider herself a violent person, but the stubborn tilt of his jaw ate at her self-control. Instead of knocking it and him back into the reality zone, she blew out a frustrated breath.

  “Did you read the sign on the door when you came in? If so, you saw the part that says ‘private investigator.’ Investigator being the key word—meaning we investigate—and the second part—private–means I don’t answer to you or Detective Daines. I report only to my client. Now I can go with you and watch your back, while doing my job. Or I can go on my own.” She waited exactly three heartbeats. “Your call.”

  Chapter 6

  How in the hell had they gone from laughing and flirting to fighting in such a short time? He didn’t want to fight. He wanted to see her amazing smile again. Or watch how her eyes lit up when she teased him about ghosts. Slipping his fingers through her silky blond hair sounded pretty damn enticing. Fighting, not so much, unless there was makeup sex after. Somehow, he didn’t think they’d reached that level of their relationship yet. Not that he intended to either. He was leaving. Thirty days from now his ass was heading west.

  Some women would be game for a quickie or a short affair. Not Kat Jones. He looked into her eyes and saw dreams of white picket fences, two point five kids, and a dog. Not that there was anything wrong with the American dream, it simply wasn’t him. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. Not ever again.

  Scrubbing his hands briskly over his face, he stood and met her eye to eye. “You’ll wait in the car until I can convince her to talk to you?”

  “As long as you promise you don’t plan to park the car a block away or around the corner.”

  He chortled. The woman was sharp. “Fine, but I need to park it across the street or something from the meeting spot so you don’t scare her off with your big, bad self.”

  “Deal.” She stuck out her hand to shake, gracing him with one of those killer smiles. It was damn lucky he was leaving or he might be rethinking that whole dream thing. A guy could fall for a smile that spoke of mischief and sincerity at the same time.

  Once, a few years back, he’d thought he wanted the dream. Enough so that he followed Debi clear across the country, leaving family, friends, and home behind when the Navy transferred her from Bangor, Washington to Groton, Connecticut. At the time, the reward outweighed the sacrifice. Life had been great for the first two years. He got hired on with the fire department. She loved her job. They were happy. In sync. Planning their wedding. Just a small ceremony, then a few months later, when work quieted down for her, they’d fly home and have the big wedding. The day of the Connecticut ceremony, Shawn arrived at the church after staying overnight with a coworker. Debi had wanted something traditional. He arrived alone and he waited and waited some more. An hour later she sent him a text.

  Change of plans. She’d accepted an assignment out of the area. He wouldn’t be accompanying her. Nor did she want him to join her at a later date. By the time he arrived at their two-bedroom apartment, all of her belongings had been cleared out and her key left on the kitchen counter. Walking into the half-empty bedroom, her sudden instance on him not seeing the bride before the ceremony became crystal clear. She’d been planning on ending their relationship for days beforehand, yet she said nothing. No explanation. The Monday after, he found out she had accepted a promotion that sent her overseas on an unaccompanied tour. Choosing her career and a bonus over their life together.

  For the past year he’d been looking for a job near his home in Silverdale, Washington, saving damn near every dime for the move home. And here he was again, standing before an incredibly sexy woman who was willing to put it all on the line for her career. No thanks, not falling again. Been there, done that, burned the T-shirt.

  “We’ve got about an hour before we need to leave. Do you have to cancel any plans or run home and change?


  Kat glanced down at her outfit. As did he, admiring the silky cream top molded to her lush rack, soft brown suede pants that hugged her curves, and heels that screamed sex. Not what he would call stakeout clothes, but she’d get no complaints from him. He might not be buying, but it never hurt to look.

  “I’m good. I’ve got a few things here. Let’s grab some equipment.”

  Opening a cabinet drawer, she pulled out an expensive digital camera with a lens that looked like it could zoom in to see life on Mars, as well as what appeared to be a microphone.

  Nodding toward the equipment in her hands, he asked, “Are we passing the time with a little karaoke?”

  “This baby is called an amplified shotgun microphone. I’ll be able to listen in on your conversation from three hundred feet away. This way, I don’t have to be standing next to you, scaring your witness with my big, bad self, as you put it. Also, I can hear others near you talking, in case you have any surprise visitors.”

  “Sweet.” Could have mentioned it sooner. Not that he was stupid enough to voice the thought out loud.

  For October, it was damn cold, the temperature sitting slightly above freezing. Kat was convinced she’d turn into a Popsicle before the mystery witness showed. She’d donned a sweater over her silk blouse and topped it with her leather coat, but the cold seeped in through the layers to chill her deep down. Squirming in her seat to get a better view of Shawn, who leaned against the outside of Sully’s Tavern, she admired his lean frame. He’d pulled the collar of his winter jacket up near his face, hands tucked deep into the pockets. Trouble with a capital T she didn’t need. If only her body could understand. It craved the man, like a person in the desert craved water.

  He lifted his head and their gazes locked. Heat zipped through her, quickly becoming an uncontrollable inferno. Breaking eye contact, she willed the chilly night air to cool the blaze. Too late. Her imagination took flight, stoking the flames with images of what it’d be like to be wrapped in his strong arms. To feel his mouth on hers. Squirming now to relieve the pressure building in a certain area, Kat almost missed the young girl approaching Shawn. Damn imagination.

 

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