by Pamela Clare
He couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling. He knew that holding onto her emotions was her way of trying to be strong. But he also he knew he couldn’t leave her alone with this.
He packed the last of his tools away and clicked the toolbox shut. Then he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m so sorry this happened, Kara.”
She gave a weak little laugh. “Me, too.”
He turned her to face him and pulled her against his chest. She felt small and soft, and a surge of protectiveness shot from his gut. “Get whatever you need for work tomorrow. You’re coming to my place for the night. You can follow me in your car.”
She stepped back from him and shook her head. “I can’t, Reece. I’m not going to let whoever did this intimidate me or drive me out of my own home. I have to stay.”
“I admire your courage, but I’m not leaving you here alone. Besides, you’ve been brave enough for one day. What you need is a good night’s sleep, and we both know you’re not going to get that here.” He could tell from her eyes that he was making inroads.
“I’ll just be running away. I need to stay and face it. That’s the only way I’m going to get over this.”
“Okay. I’ll get our bags and be right back.” He started for the door.
“What do you mean ‘our bags’?”
“I told you I’m not leaving you here alone. If you stay, I stay.”
“But there’s no place for anyone to sleep except Connor’s bed, and it’s a twin.”
“I’ll take the living room floor.”
She gaped at him for a moment, then stomped off toward her bedroom. “Fine. Have it your way. But I’m only going with you because I can’t stand the thought of you sleeping on my floor.”
“Whatever works.” He picked up his toolbox, flicked out the kitchen light, and grinned.
WHEN KARA pulled into the parking lot at the newspaper the next morning, she was in a strangely good mood given what had happened last night. Maybe it was the fact that she would get to see Connor later today. She missed him terribly. Or maybe it was the delicious breakfast of blueberry crepes Reece had somehow whipped up while putting on his senator costume—starched shirt, silk tie, and tailored trousers that draped perfectly over his scrumptious butt. Or maybe it was the way he’d put her to sleep last night and woken her up this morning—one slow, sweet climax after the next.
Okay, that was definitely it. Even if her brain had a few cobwebs in it from lack of sleep, her body felt like spun silk.
She parked, grabbed her briefcase, and got buzzed through security. She hadn’t made any headway on the health department records over the weekend, of course, so she needed to catch up on that today. She also needed to get in touch with Scott Hammond at the state health department and find out how much he was willing to tell her. If Northrup really was behind the calls and the break-in, she needed to finish the story quickly.
Ink was a journalist’s best defense.
Somehow it felt easier to face what had happened to her house by the light of day. Though she hadn’t told Reece, she was grateful he had manipulated her into staying with him. She doubted she’d have been able to close her eyes alone in her strangely empty house. She knew what her mother meant now by “bad juju.” She hadn’t been able to shake the sense of malevolence she’d felt. She had arranged to stay at her mother’s place for the next few days until the insurance check came. She didn’t want Connor to see his home this way.
She found her desk buried in press releases, her e-mail crammed with spam, and seven messages on her voicemail. Her morning got even brighter when none of the seven messages was a whispering voice threatening dire consequences. She’d just left another message on Mr. Hammond’s home voicemail when she spied Tessa making straight toward her, documents in her hand and a worried look on her face.
“We’ve got a problem, Kara.” Tessa handed her the documents.
Kara’s good mood evaporated.
It was a police report. It was date-stamped for last night. And right there on the first page was her name—and Reece’s. “Damn! Damn! Damn!”
The report detailed accurately what had happened, including the fact that the victim and the witness had been away for the weekend.
Tom was going to be furious. But how would Reece feel? It was his name, after all, and not hers that would catch reporters’ attention. He was likely to find himself getting phone calls from media eager to speculate on his love life—and any political advantage he was deriving from it.
How could Kara have gotten so sloppy? She was a reporter, for God’s sake! She knew what a police report entailed, what was likely to be included. Why hadn’t she anticipated this and done something to prevent it?
You were scared and angry, and you weren’t thinking. Not thinking being the key factor.
Tessa gave a heavy sigh and shook her blond mane. “I don’t see how we can hide this from Tom. If any of the other papers pick it up first—”
“He’ll kill me.”
Tessa nodded. “If you’re lucky.”
“Thanks, Tessa. I guess I’ve got twenty minutes to figure out how to handle this. I need to warn Reece.”
Tessa leaned closer and whispered. “Did you at least have a good time?”
Kara couldn’t help the dreamy smile that spread across her face.
“I thought you would.”
SHE WAITED until the end of the meeting to bring it up. “Someone broke into my home over the weekend. Nothing was stolen, but most of what I owned was destroyed. The police have determined that it wasn’t a routine burglary. My theory is that someone wants the whistleblower videotapes and state documents. Here’s the police report.”
She tossed it to Tom, who spent a moment skimming it, then looked up at her through emotionless blue eyes. “Got a thing going on with a state senator, I see.”
Matt’s head whipped around so fast she was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash. Syd looked up from her calculator. Joaquin’s eyebrows shot upward. Sophie gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the conference table. Tessa rolled her eyes.
Kara met Tom’s gaze. “Reece . . . That is, Senator Sheridan and I only recently—”
Tom tossed the report back to her. “I don’t care whom you fuck, McMillan, as long as it doesn’t compromise this newspaper. Novak, get a blurb on this in our police blotter. I don’t want the other papers thinking we’re trying to bury our own shit. If you’re not in a sexual swoon, McMillan, get copies made of those tapes and documents. They’re too important to lose.”
REECE GLANCED at his watch and motioned for Brooke to grab his file on the tire-burning bill. He was due on the Senate floor five minutes ago. “I think what we’ve got is workable and responsible. Lawmakers will hate it, but the taxpayers will love it, which is one way to know for certain it’s a good bill. I really appreciate your help.”
He’d spent most of the morning on the phone with legal, working out the details of his new bill, which would change the way the state tracked money paid to lawmakers. If it passed, no one would be able to hide a dime earned at the taxpayers’ expense. Devlin was going to hate him.
Reece scrolled through the missed calls on his cell phone and saw that Kara had tried to reach him. “While I have you on the phone, I’ve got one other question. If I wanted a comprehensive list of open-records requests made over the past six months by a specific reporter, would the state’s attorney be able to produce that list?”
State health department documents, she’d said, but she couldn’t tell him anything more. But as a member of the Legislative Audit Committee, he wasn’t without resources. If someone within state government was threatening her or had any idea who might be behind the phone calls and the break-in, it was within the scope of Reece’s position to find out who it was—and to do something about it. It wasn’t an abuse of his authority; it was his job, even if there was a personal angle to it.
“That would be great. Thanks. The reporter’s name is Kara McM
illan.”
CHAPTER 16
* * *
KARA LAY back, eyes closed, and let the hot water engulf her. One of the perks of staying at her mother’s house was the huge sunken tub off the master bedroom. Her favorite lavender bath salts, a dozen candles, and it was the perfect place for Kara to relax and to think. As her mother was reading Connor a bedtime story—a child’s book about the prince who ran away from home, i.e., the Buddha—she actually had time to relax and think.
She’d read through a mountain of documents so far this week, so many pages that her shoulders ached and she dreamed in charts. What she and the others had found was a long trail of complaints from Northrup’s neighbors, including Ed and Moira Farnsworth and Dottie and Carl Perkins. There were also dozens upon dozens of copies of complaints that had been filed with the county health department and then passed on to the state. Talk about passing the buck.
There were also state inspection reports showing numerous violations of state air-quality laws, some relating to the plant’s smokestacks, the rest relating to dust emissions. In more than one case, the state inspector had caught Northrup employees doing funky math to make their toxic emissions fall below state limits—a serious crime. The odd thing was that if she followed the mountain of paperwork resulting from the inspections, she always ended up with nothing. No penalties. No major fines. The steepest fine she’d uncovered so far was for six thousand dollars—hardly a drop in the bucket for a company that raked in ten billion each year.
How could that be? Why would inspectors from the state health department, whose job it was to protect public health, go to the trouble of double-checking Northrup’s math if the department had no intention of prosecuting the company for breaking the law? It made no sense.
She knew exactly who could answer this question. But he didn’t seem to want to speak with her. After warning her that she and the whistleblower might be in danger, he had suddenly gone quiet, refusing to return her phone calls. But Mr. Hammond had done those inspections. He had checked the math. He’d caught them falsifying their reports to the state. He would know why Northrup had never been prosecuted. It was time to quit waiting for him to call back and to try a different way of making contact.
Kara stretched, wiggled her toes in the water, and wondered absently if there was any way to put a gigantic, sunken bathtub in her tiny bathroom. Tonight was her last night at her mother’s house. The insurance check had come yesterday, and the three of them had spent last evening shopping—mattress, couch, TV, stereo, DVD player, and Sponge Bob galore. The furniture and television had been delivered today, and Kara had used her lunch hour to rush home and arrange things. Tomorrow, she and Connor would go to a slightly different but familiar home. They would refill the bird feeder, which was surely empty by now, eat spaghetti for dinner, and snuggle together with a stack of books. Life would go back to normal.
Or maybe it wouldn’t.
What was she going to do about Reece? All she had to do was think of him and her body started to glow. Senator Reece Sheridan was devastating in bed. That much was for certain. He was pretty damned wonderful out of it, too. But this was moving too fast. Kara was thinking of him constantly, wishing she were with him, wanting to talk with him, to hear his voice, to touch him, to feel his hands and lips on her skin. She was like an addict, and he was her fix.
It was one thing to like a man and to enjoy having sex with him. It was quite another to become enmeshed with him, to feel like her day wasn’t complete without him, to need him. And no way, no way was she going to let herself fall in love with him. Not if she could help it.
And what happens if you can’t help it, McMillan?
The very thought had her eyes flying open, her heart racing.
It was time for her to get her life on an even keel again, to put the Northrup story to bed and focus on raising her son. She couldn’t afford to get this lost in a man. Was she so pathetically horny that she couldn’t do without him for a while?
The door handle turned, and her mother stepped inside. “He’s sound asleep. What a wonderful boy he is, Kara! Such an old soul!”
Kara sat up, feeling awkward. She wasn’t body shy, particularly not around her mother, but she wasn’t used to lounging naked in the tub with an audience. “I’ll get out if you need to use the bathroom.”
Her mother waved off her offer and sat on the carpeted floor. “Hush! Just keep soaking. I thought we could chat. We rarely get time alone.”
Irritated that her privacy had just been obliterated, Kara leaned back and closed her eyes. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Reece.”
Kara felt a jolt rush through her, but she kept her eyes closed. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
“Connor adores him, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“And I can tell he’s good for you.”
“Is my aura full of smiley faces or something?”
“You seem happier, more relaxed—probably because all that pent-up sexual energy has finally been released.”
Kara said nothing, knowing that any objection would be a lie.
“And when you’re with him, there’s something in your eyes I haven’t seen since before Connor was born.” Her mother never mentioned Galen by name. “I’m really happy for you, Kara, and I don’t want to see you screw this up.”
Kara sat up, eyes open. “You’re hardly the one to give advice on relationships, Mom.”
“If by that you mean I’ve slept with every guru, shaman, and warlock on this side of the Rockies and am still alone, you’re right. But you’d be wrong if you thought this is how I wanted my life to be.”
“You always said my father’s leaving was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Kara hadn’t heard her mother speak this seriously about anything in a long time.
“I only said that because I was hurt and angry. A man I thought loved me woke up one morning and decided he’d rather be someplace else. At first I was crushed. Then I was enraged, so furious that I wanted to tear his world apart.”
Kara knew that kind of rage. She’d felt it when she’d lain alone in a hospital room swamped with contractions, the pain tearing her body apart. She’d felt it when she’d had to turn her precious eight-week-old son over to day care and return to work. She’d felt it when she’d been up all night with a crying baby, only to head to work early in the morning. And she felt it every time Connor asked about his daddy.
“Trouble was I couldn’t hurt your father. He was gone. So I ended up tearing my own life apart. But you don’t have to do that, Kara. Don’t punish Reece for the sins of another man. Don’t let your fear of being hurt again turn you away from a man who truly loves you.”
As her mother rose and walked out of the bathroom, Kara was surprised to find tears streaming down her cheeks.
SESSION HAD just adjourned for a lunch break when Reece saw her walking toward him. She was dressed for business, but she looked like sex—a tailored black suit that hugged the curves of her body, her slender legs in black hose, her long hair hanging dark and sleek over her shoulders, her blouse buttoned one button too low. She walked straight toward him down the hallway, which was crowded with senators, aides, lobbyists, press, and assorted bottom-feeders.
He tossed his jacket over his shoulder and met her halfway. “Ms. McMillan. The Denver Independent, right?”
Her lips curved in a naughty smile. “Senator Sheridan. I was hoping you might have a few minutes. I have some questions.”
He glanced at his watch and pretended to consider it. “Session resumes in about an hour, so I’ve got a few minutes. Would my office work?”
The elevator ride and the walk down the hallway almost killed him. He wanted to touch her, but he didn’t dare. They made small talk, though Reese was hardly aware of a word they said. No sooner had he shut and locked his office door than they were on each other, kissing, their hands seeking the fastest way past clothing to skin. Reece opened a few buttons and found her breas
ts, while she yanked down his zipper and slipped her hand inside his boxers.
Her hand surrounded his erection, and she arched her breasts into his hands. “Now! Oh, God, now!”
He backed her against his desk, turned her so she faced away from him, lifted her skirt, and felt his lungs implode.
She was wearing stockings, garters, and no panties.
“Jesus Christ, Kara!” He bent her over, ran his hands over the bare curve of her ass, and savored the view and the feel of her. Then he nudged her thighs apart and, spurred by her impatient pleading, nudged his cock into her, his hands gripping her hips.
She was already wet, and she closed around him like a fist. He fought to stay with her, to make sure she enjoyed it, too. But the sight of her bowed over his desk, her bare ass exposed, his cock pounding into her, brought him hurtling toward the edge.
Quickly, he reached around, sought between her slick folds for her pert little clitoris, and stroked it. In a matter of moments, her breathing was ragged, each exhalation catching in her throat, threatening to become a full-fledged moan that could be heard in the hallway beyond. Her hands bunched into fists, crumpled paper, beat against the wood.
Faster, harder. She felt so damned good. Slick. Tight. Like heaven.
He felt the tension inside her peak and break. Her breath caught, and for a moment he was thought she was going to scream. But all that escaped was a long, shuddering sigh as her body shook with release. And then he was thrusting into her like a madman, lost in the hot rush of orgasm.
For a moment, they remained as they were, Reece still pulsing inside her, her body quivering around him. Then his phone rang, and he remembered exactly where they were. Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew, turned her, and pulled her against him.