I thought I might collapse. Alec’s light touch kept me on my feet; I felt magnetized.
He drifted to the side and pressed his cheek to mine. “So sweet,” he murmured.
My cheek lifted against his. His arm at my waist, his right arm, pressed me closer to him. His chest tightened as if he was in pain.
“Sit,” I said.
“Yes, ma’am.” He obeyed with a grin, an actual grin.
I gently laid the ice back on his shoulder—and tried not to let him notice my hands shaking. I didn’t quite know what was going on, like trying to grasp reality while you’re in a dream. Reality seemed fuzzy around the edges, like I could stretch it, like its boundaries weren’t where I thought they were. I didn’t want him to see how much I was freaking out inside.
“I think you were just trying to distract me,” I said. “Do you let no one take care of you?”
“Does it work,” he asked, “my distraction?”
I kept my focus on the ice. “No.”
His fingers under my chin turned my head, and with slight pressure, he brought me closer. He kissed me once more lightly, and didn’t let go, kept me trapped.
“No?” he asked.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good.” His eyes were brighter. I could barely see the pain. He looked…happy.
I managed to stand straight, not to drop the ice, not to collapse.
We were quiet for a couple minutes, the comfortable kind of quiet. I focused on holding the ice steady, on keeping the pressure of it light, but that meant I had to keep my gaze on it, on his skin, the curve of his shoulder and chest. He kept watching me with that look, that grin in his eyes. I loved seeing him smile, being the one to cause it, seeing the anger fade to the background. It was still there but not about to bubble to the surface at any second. I figured it was a good time to talk to him, to apologize.
“How was your day?” I asked. It sounded lame, but I was getting the details, something, out of him whether he liked it or not.
The corner of his mouth twisted up. “It’s been a long time since someone’s asked me that.”
“Maybe that’s because you never give a straight answer.”
The amusement in his eyes brightened. “Work was fine.”
I held his hand tightly in mine. “What happened?”
He sighed. “I offer to give you anything, and this is what you ask?”
“I don’t need anything.”
His voice was gentle, which mostly hid his frustration. “I didn’t say need.”
“Please.”
His gaze fell to our hands. The coolness of his fingers traced my skin. I forgot about the frosty bite of the ice in my other hand. He seemed absorbed in his study of my fingers, as if there was something beautiful.
He lifted my hand to his lips. They lingered on my skin, and the warmth of his breath seeped under the surface then flowed up my arm, my neck, until it filled my head, like that shot I’d drunk once. I’d only done it to get my coworker at an office party to shut up, to stop his offering to get me something to drink. I’d barely been able to handle it.
His mouth still on my hand, his gaze shifted to meet mine.
I realized what he was doing and narrowed my eyes.
He grinned then returned his attention to the warming of my skin, to distracting me from my question.
I curled my fingers along his jaw.
His eyes closed, and his hands hovered in the air for a few seconds.
I leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Please.”
“Not fair,” he murmured.
I was bursting inside that I could have any effect, let alone like this. I pressed my apparent advantage by kissing his cheek and letting my lips linger.
He took a silent breath.
I stood straight and lifted his chin. He opened his eyes, and I saw his internal debate, his stress about what to tell me.
My voice was quiet, calm. “I’m not scared.”
He sighed. “How much have you figured?”
“Just that you were doing something today, alone.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“They wouldn’t have been so nervous if they were going with you.”
“Does Hanna know?”
I shook my head. “That’s why I used Ben’s phone, and outside.”
“Thank you.”
I took his hand off his leg, and rubbed my thumb across the back, across the rough skin of his knuckles.
“We found a money trail,” he said. “It’s nothing that would stand up in court, but from what we can tell, the embezzlement has increased significantly over the last several months. The bulk of it is going to an account we have come to find belongs to Joe Bishop.”
My eyebrows pulled together.
“Do you know the name?” he asked.
“I saw something in the paper about him, speculation of his existence. There’s only rumors, no proof he’s done what they claim.”
“He most certainly exists, and I’m sure he is responsible for quite a few thefts. I doubt Joe Bishop is his real name, though.”
“You went to see him.”
“I need to know why he’s receiving the money. I need something on Dean, something that will stick, that will ensure a long imprisonment. This connection could prove useful.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“We had an interesting discussion.”
Discussion? I glanced at his blackened shoulder.
“I met with his security first,” he said. “Then I was able to acquire some of his time.”
I didn’t ask any more about the “security”. I probably didn’t want to know anyway, and I needed to appear calm if I wanted him to talk to me. “What’d he tell you?”
“Dean is his father.”
“An infamous thief’s father is a city councilman? And if Dean wanted to give money to his son, why didn’t he just give it to him? Why go through all this? Could it be a money-laundering tactic?”
“It’s possible. Bishop, whatever his real identity is, may not have a record, especially if he’s as good as they say. He may be able to move money without raising suspicion. You’re right, though. Their connection seems far-fetched.” His jaw clenched. “Even for Dean.”
“But Bishop saw your face, right?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t he tell Councilman Dean?”
His eyebrows lowered. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have the impression they don’t particularly get along. There’s more to it.” His expression changed—confident, almost arrogant. “He knows now that I can find him.”
“You have someone watching him?”
“Just to make sure. He won’t talk about something like this over the phone. He would have to leave if he wants to talk to Dean.”
But he knew who Alec was now, that he was involved somehow. I sighed.
“Come here,” he said. His hand at my waist guided me to his lap. He hugged me to him, and I lay my head on his good shoulder.
“I’ll protect you,” he said. “I promise.”
“I don’t want you to be hurt.” I took a calming breath. It was a little frustrating that he still didn’t seem to get that I wasn’t worried about my protection. “Please don’t do something like that again.”
He didn’t answer, but he did hold me.
“It’s late,” he said. “You must be tired.”
I kept my head on his shoulder. “Do you have to leave early?”
“Yes.”
I sat up. “Will you come see me first?”
There was a smile in his eyes. “Yes.”
I carefully lifted the icepack from his shoulder, dumped the ice in the sink, threw the bag away, and refolded the towel—to make sure Hanna didn’t suspect someone had been injured. It felt odd to walk, like my balance was off, like when you first wake in the morning. I was pretty sure I concealed it well. Hopefully, it would get easier.
He started to put his shirt back on. I made it back to him in time to help lift it onto his right shoulder.
I stood in front of him to fix the collar, but didn’t button it. I didn’t think my hands could be that dexterous anyway. “Does it feel better?”
“Thank you,” he said. “Please don’t tell Hanna. She worries too much.”
I nodded, and he took my hand to lead me through the darkness and up the stairs. We paused at my door.
“Sit with me for a few minutes,” I said.
He opened the door, and I kept his hand to lead him in, and then to the sofa. He sat, and I pushed him back, gently so his shoulder didn’t feel any pressure.
He tilted his head curiously as he looked at me.
“Someone has to make you relax,” I said. “I’ve only seen you sit maybe a handful of times.”
Still leaned back into the corner of the sofa, he pulled me closer. I curled into his side with my head rested on his chest. He wrapped his arms around me.
I half-wondered at myself, at how easy it was to be with him. I didn’t feel shy, or nervous, or awkward. My thoughts began to drift away, to blur, as he started stroking my hair down my back. Someone must’ve whispered the secret in his ear, of how to get me to relax, to sleep. I was almost under when he murmured…
No, it had to be a part of my dreams.
I allowed myself to fall farther into the dream.
There was a quiet knock. Alec tensed slightly, likely irritated. I didn’t quite wake as he lifted me, and then I was set onto the soft bed and covered with blankets.
A kiss on my forehead and a soft whisper. “Sleep well, my Adriane.”
My Adriane? I think my lips may have actually curved.
Of course, I hadn’t set the alarm clock, but I was determined enough to wake and clean up before he made it to my door. I was brushing my hair when the soft tap came.
I set my brush down and went to the door.
His voice was subdued. “Good morning.”
“Come with me.” I took his hand to lead him downstairs and to the kitchen. He followed obediently, lips tweaked with a grin. I focused on not stumbling through the dark house. Perhaps that was why he was amused.
From the pantry, I grabbed the bread.
He took me by the waist with both hands and set me on the island.
“No distractions,” I said. “You have to eat this morning.”
He stood very close, resting his hands on the counter on either side of me. “You think you can order me?” His expression was impassive and his voice level.
He was adorable when he was trying to be stern with me. I fought to keep my grin from being too bright.
His voice was still level. “You’re too damn cute, you know.”
Hanna saved me from having to respond to that by entering the kitchen. She was never up this early. Why did she have to pick today?
Her gaze flickered between Alec and me. He didn’t seem to notice her and remained very close to me.
“Good morning,” she said as she walked by.
“Good morning, Hanna.” Alec didn’t move his gaze from me, as if memorizing my face.
Hanna made herself busy at the stove, with her back to us.
I spoke quietly to him. “You know I’m going to make you eat.”
His mouth pulled up at the corner. “Yes, ma’am.”
I reached for the bread and put a couple slices in the toaster, while he continued to look at me. He didn’t move.
I pressed the bread down and turned back to him. The warmth I felt was not from the toaster. I understood what I’d read once about sparks. I could see what he wanted with that mask of his gone. He wanted to kiss me. He held my gaze, and I saw the infinitesimal movements as he stopped himself—the tilt of his head, the part of his lips. He leaned closer.
The toaster popped, and I jumped.
His lips twitched as he watched me recover myself.
“Not funny,” I said.
“Yes, it is.”
Hanna covertly slipped a plate and jam onto the counter next to me. Alec moved just enough to allow me to spread jam on the toast. I handed him the plate and hopped down to get some juice for him. Hanna continued to pretend to ignore us.
He finished both pieces of toast and half the juice, to my amazement.
“Will you be late tonight?” I asked.
He sighed. “Most likely.”
“I’ll wait up,” I said, “if you want.”
“You don’t have to. I don’t want you to be tired.”
“Stubborn, remember?”
“You are.”
He took my hand to lead me into the foyer, just out of Hanna’s eye-line but probably not out of earshot.
“Please be careful,” I murmured, barely audible.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Please.”
He held both my hands. “Just research and surveillance, I promise.”
I knew he had to leave, knew he had someone to meet, but he hesitated, perhaps considering the kiss again.
Hanna stepped into our peripheral vision, and his gaze flickered. I silently cursed her.
He kissed my cheek instead, and lingered, with his hand on my neck. I leaned into him.
“Until tonight,” he murmured in my ear.