A Guilty Affair (3 page)

Frowning, she checked her watch and was shocked to find that it was nearly one o'clock. She'd slept for six hours! Where was Noah? And why had he let her sleep for so long?

Riley scrambled to her feet and went in search of those answers.

She only needed to follow the deep, husky timbre of his voice around the corner and down the hall to the second bedroom, which had been converted into a home office. The room was small and functional, dominated by a sturdy bookcase, a pair of black metal filing cabinets, and a wide metal desk—the kind of furniture that could be purchased at government auctions.

Noah stood at the narrow window talking on the phone, one hand thrust carelessly into the pocket of dark jeans that clung to the corded muscles of his thighs and hugged a rear end you could bounce quarters off. Riley's mouth went dry as cotton.

At that moment, Noah turned and reached across the cluttered desk for a notepad. With the cordless phone pressed between his ear and shoulder blade, he leaned down to scribble instructions dictated to him by the person on the other end.

Without warning, Riley saw herself nestled between the desk and his hard, muscular body. She imagined his big hands at her waist, her head flung back against his chest as he kissed her throat and—

Shocked by the wicked turn of her thoughts, she coughed then choked. Noah lifted his head and looked over at her questioningly.
You okay?
he mouthed.

Her face burned, but not from the temporary lack of oxygen to the brain. Nodding jerkily, she backed out of the room and hurried to the kitchen, where she poured herself a tall glass of water.

Noah appeared a few moments later, frowning. “Are you all right?”

She waved off his concern, gulping down the water as if she'd just run the Boston Marathon. “I'm fine,” she rasped when she'd finished her drink. “I was just thirsty. Must have been a little dehydrated.”

He walked over, took the empty glass from her hand and refilled it, then passed it back to her.

“Thanks,” she murmured gratefully. “I apologize for interrupting your phone call.”

“Don't worry about it.” Folding his arms across his broad chest, he leaned a hip against the center island. “Have a good nap?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. “Why'd you let me sleep so long?”

He shrugged. “You were tired. I figured you could use the rest, after driving all the way from Washington, D.C. Without stopping somewhere to get a good night's sleep,” he added, giving her a censorious look.

Her eyes widened. “H-how do you know that?”

“Your grandmother called while you were sleeping. She was worried, wanted to make sure you hadn't driven your car off the road in your exhaustion. When you didn't answer your cell phone, she called the house.”

“Oh.” Embarrassed, Riley could only stare down into her glass.

“Why'd you do a stupid thing like that, Riley?” Noah asked in a tone she imagined he'd use to interrogate suspects. “Drive almost twenty-four hours with no rest?”

“I was on a mission. I wanted to get here as soon as possible.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “I'm sorry for holding you hostage at home half the day. I hope I didn't keep you from anything important.”

“Just the office. But I was able to get some things done here, so it's no problem.” He turned his head and glanced out the French doors. She smiled at the sight of Eskimo bounding back and forth across the lawn, chasing down a rubber ball.

“He must think I'm so lame,” Riley said ruefully. “One minute we were playing together and eating pound cake, the next minute I was out like a light.”

Noah arched a brow. “You fed my dog cake?”

“Just a little,” she admitted sheepishly, holding her thumb and index finger two inches apart. When Noah scowled, she chuckled. “Oh, come on. Don't get mad. Everyone should experience Grandma's lemon pound cake at least once in their lives. Besides, I couldn't resist, not when he looked up at me with those big brown eyes.”

Noah shook his head. “You just fell for one of the oldest cons in the world, woman.”

“I know, I know. That's always been one of my weaknesses—puppy-dog eyes. I used to sneak so much food under the table to my grandmother's miniature schnauzer it's a miracle he didn't get fat.” She sighed at the memory, then slanted Noah a sullen look. “We can't all be like you, Noah Roarke. Strong and resolute, impervious to temptation.”

Something flickered in his dark eyes. “Yeah, that's me all right,” he muttered under his breath, turning away and sauntering over to the refrigerator. “Impervious to temptation.”

Riley laughed, but the moment Noah leaned over to peer inside the refrigerator, the sound died on her lips. Once again, she found herself checking out his firm, muscled butt.

How had she never noticed before what a magnificent tush Noah Roarke had?

Because you were engaged to his best friend
, her conscience reminded her.
You weren't supposed to notice things like that
.

Noah glanced over his shoulder just then. “Are you hungry? I was going…” His voice trailed off. Mortified, Riley realized he'd caught her in the act of staring at his butt. No, not just staring.
Ogling
.

Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat.

“I should go,” she blurted out. “I didn't mean to take up your whole day like this. And Grandma is probably worried sick about me, wondering when I'll be home. So I should go.”

Noah said nothing, watching as she hurried across the room to where she'd left her sandals earlier and hastily slipped them on.

“My keys,” she muttered, sweeping a wild look around the kitchen. “Where'd I leave my keys?”

Noah picked them up from the counter and calmly held them out to her. She rushed over and practically snatched them from his hand, then raced from the room, as if by outrunning him, she could outrun the foreign sensations coursing through her body.

“Riley—”

“I really have to go, Noah,” she tossed over her shoulder. “We still need to talk, but not now. I…I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Drive carefully,” he said softly.

She didn't.

She raced down the highway, and couldn't even get mad when she was pulled over. As it turned out, she recognized the young Hispanic officer who appeared at her window to request her license and registration. He'd just graduated from the academy three years ago—a few months before Trevor died.

A wide, dimpled grin spread across his face as he removed his mirrored sunglasses and stared down at her. “Well, I'll be damned. It's Riley Kane. You're back!”

“Sure am,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun to smile easily at him. “How's it going, Mario?”

“Can't complain, especially now. Everyone misses you. When'd you get back into town?”

“Yesterday afternoon.”

His grin turned hopeful. “You coming back to us, Riley?”

“Afraid not, Mario. I'm only staying for two months, then it's back to the East Coast.”

“Aw, man,” he grumbled. “Why you wanna live all the way up there, anyway? What does D.C. have that we don't?”

“Nicer cops,” she teased.

“No way. They don't get any nicer than us. And just to show you how nice I am, I'm not even gonna give you a ticket. But you'd better slow down. The next guy who pulls you over might not be as understanding as me. Unless it's Harward, Bosquez, Stinson, Vallejo, or—” He broke off and shook his head. “Damn, Riley, I guess you got us all wrapped around your pretty little finger.”

She winked at him, turning the key in the ignition. “Thanks, Mario. You're a sweetheart.”

He smiled. “Wait until Noah hears that you're back. He's gonna be so excited.”

Riley didn't bother telling the young officer that she'd already seen Noah, which was the reason she'd been flying down the highway in the first place. She also didn't bother correcting him about Noah's anything-but-excited reaction to her return.

As Mario backed away from the car, he called out playfully, “Don't go rear-ending any cops!”

Riley couldn't help but laugh as she pulled off.

The tale of how she'd met Noah five years ago had become a long-standing joke at the downtown precinct where he and Trevor had worked, a story that had been shared over drinks at the local bar and passed down to new recruits like oral tradition. By all accounts, Riley shouldn't have been welcomed into the brotherhood of blue the way she had. Not only was she a member of the despised press—who'd always maintained a somewhat adversarial relationship with the police department—but then she'd had the audacity to rear-end a beloved detective. In the parking lot of the police station, at that.

But she'd been Trevor's girl, and by virtue of him being Noah's partner and best friend, she'd been given the benefit of the doubt. It wasn't long before she was receiving invitations to cookouts, departmental softball games, kids' birthday parties, weddings, retirement dinners—you name it. She'd been eagerly embraced by the men and women of the Central Substation on South Frio Street, and she, in turn, had regarded all of them as extended family members. When Trevor died, the outpouring of sympathy and support she'd received had been overwhelming. Which was what made Noah's strange, distant behavior during that time even more devastating.

But she was over that, she told herself firmly. It hadn't been easy, but she'd gotten over the feeling of betrayal, the sense of desertion and…loss. Yes, loss. She'd worked especially hard on that one. After all, she and Noah had never been very close. She couldn't lose something she'd never really had.

So, just as she'd worked through those painful issues, she would also get over her unwanted attraction to Noah. Attraction, that's all it was. Nothing deeper than that. And, as inconvenient and embarrassing as it was, what she felt was perfectly normal. She hadn't been with another man since losing Trevor. After enjoying a healthy physical relationship with her fiancé, three years was a long time to go without having sex. So, yeah, maybe she was a little horny. And it didn't help that the object of her attraction was even finer than she remembered, with those dark, piercing eyes and that sinfully sexy mouth. Not to mention a body to rival any classic Grecian statue. And that was based on the parts she
had
seen.

Riley groaned loudly and banged her fist against the steering wheel. She was behaving as if scales had just fallen from her eyes and she was seeing Noah for the first time. And that wasn't the case. She'd always been aware, on some unconscious level, that he was handsome. She'd have to be blind not to have noticed the way women stared at him wherever he went. Even some of the females he'd worked with at the police station had sat up like show dogs whenever he strolled past, and had flirted shamelessly with him every chance they got. At cookouts and fund-raiser dinners, they'd huddled in groups to gossip and speculate about his love life, and to place bets on the kind of woman who would be lucky enough to someday win his heart.

Riley frowned and shook her head, turning into the gated community where her parents lived. This couldn't be happening to her—not now, and not with Noah. Being attracted to him
wasn't
normal, and it
wasn't
acceptable. He'd been Trevor's best friend and partner on the police force, and if all had gone according to plan, Noah would have stood as Trevor's best man at the wedding. Just as it would have been inappropriate for her to—oh, God—check out his butt during the ceremony, so was it now.

When it came right down to it, she couldn't afford to be distracted by a taboo attraction to Noah. She'd come back home to seek his help, to find closure so that she could finally move on with her life. Once she received the answers to the terrible questions that had haunted her for the past three years, she would return to Washington, D.C., to her job at the
Post
and the new friendships she'd been too depressed to cultivate up to that point.

And once she was away from here and finally freed from the ghosts of the past, Noah Roarke would become nothing more than a distant memory.

As far as she was concerned, that day couldn't come fast enough.

W
hen
Riley arrived home and found her grandmother sprawled across the family room floor, she panicked.

“Oh my God! Grandma!” she cried, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside the prone woman. “Grandma, are you okay?”

Florinda Kane's cinnamon-brown eyes blinked open. “Riley?”

“Yes, it's me, Grandma,” Riley said soothingly, checking her grandmother's pulse, striving to calm her own. “I'm here now. You're going to be okay.”

“Of course I am,” Florinda said, gently swatting away Riley's hand and pulling herself to a sitting position. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Riley stared at her. “Because you fell down…didn't you?”

Florinda chortled. “No, baby. I was doing my deep-breathing exercises.”

“Deep-breathing…?” For the first time, Riley noticed the tiny beads of perspiration on her grandmother's forehead, the damp towel draped around her slender neck, and the black leggings and oversize T-shirt she wore. “You were exercising?”

“Don't sound so shocked. How else do you think I maintain this girlish figure?”

Awash with relief, Riley laughed and gave her grandmother a quick, warm hug. “Thank God! I saw you lying on the floor and thought something terrible had happened.”

Smiling, Florinda patted Riley's cheek. “You can just put your mind at ease,” she cheerfully assured her. “It's not my time to go yet. There's still much work to be done. Hand me my water, will you, baby?”

As Riley crawled over to the cherry coffee table and retrieved the water bottle, she spied a Pilates DVD case on the floor nearby. Grinning to herself, she crawled back over to her grandmother and passed her the water.

“Thank you, baby,” Florinda murmured, dabbing at her face and neck with the towel before taking a swig from the bottle.

Riley had always thought of her grandmother's face as handsome, etched with strength and character that deepened as she grew older. Her creamy skin glowed with health and vitality. Her eyes were bright and keenly intelligent, gleaming with a preternatural wisdom that never failed to astonish. When Florinda Kane predicted rain, it didn't matter that the forecast called for clear blue skies. It rained. When Florinda spoke of the addition of a family member, an aunt or cousin would call a few days later with exciting news of someone's pregnancy. Growing up, Riley would have challenged anyone who told her that her grandmother wasn't psychic. She'd bragged about it at school, until her second-grade teacher sent her home one day with a note about telling lies. After her parents scolded her, Florinda had taken Riley aside and wiped her tears, then, her eyes twinkling with mischief, she'd told her granddaughter that her “special gift” was something others would never understand, so it had to be their little secret. Riley had never breathed another word to anyone about Florinda's “clairvoyance,” content to bask in the knowledge that while her classmates' grandmothers were only good for knitting sweaters and baking cookies, hers could predict the future.

At the age of seventy-four, Florinda showed no signs of slowing down, enrolling in computer classes at the local community college, signing up for salsa lessons and now, apparently, taking up pilates.

As Riley watched, her grandmother carefully folded her legs into a half-lotus sitting position and closed her eyes as if preparing to meditate.

“I'll just come back when you're finished,” Riley whispered, starting to rise from the floor.

“No, don't go, baby. Stay here and keep me company. How was your visit with Noah?”

Scary. Nerve-racking
. Aloud she said, “It was fine. He told me you'd called. I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't mean to stay over there so long.”

“No apology necessary. I knew you were in good hands. And I'm glad you felt comfortable enough with Noah to get the rest you needed.”

Riley blushed, and felt compelled to add, “He was in another room the whole time. It's not like we were sleeping together, er, I mean, at the same—”

A quiet smile curved Florinda's mouth. “I know what you meant, dear. I spoke to him myself. He told me you'd fallen asleep in the living room.”

Riley bit her lip, comforted by the fact that as long as her grandmother's eyes remained closed, she wouldn't see Riley's apprehensive expression. “Did he sound irritated?”

“Not at all.” The smile became soft, intuitive. “I don't think you'd ever have to worry about irritating Noah.”

Riley was inclined to disagree but saw no reason to point that out. “He really appreciated the pound cake. By the time I left, it was half-gone.”

“I know. He was eating a piece when I called. I told him I'd bake another one and give it to him when he came to my party.”

Riley's mouth fell open. “You invited Noah to your birthday party?”

“Of course. I knew
you
wouldn't do it.”

“Grandma—”

Florinda opened her eyes and gave her granddaughter a reproving look. “Don't I have a right to invite whoever I want to my own birthday party?”

“Of course, Grandma. It's just that—”

“I like Noah Roarke,” Florinda said emphatically. “I think he's a wonderful young man, and I know you'd think so too if you took the time to get to know him better.”

Riley sputtered. “
Me?
With all due respect, Grandma, I think you've got it backward. Noah's the one who's been pushing me away for the last five years,
not
the other way around!”

Lips pursed, Florinda gave her a long, measuring look. “That really bothers you, doesn't it?” she murmured.

Riley forced a dismissive shrug. “Not anymore. Not like it used to.”

“And you don't know why he's been pushing you away?”

Riley heaved a long, weary sigh. “I have no idea, Grandma. Maybe because I dented his car the very first day we met, and after that he decided I was an airhead. Or maybe he didn't approve of his best friend dating a reporter. He may have thought I was using Trevor to get the inside scoop on things happening within the police department.” She frowned. “Or maybe he just thought Trevor was too good for me and could do better.”

Florinda's mouth tightened, and a flash of indignation flared in her eyes. “Trevor Simmons was
not
too good for you. If anything—” She broke off abruptly, snapping her mouth shut and averting her gaze.

For several moments the two women were silent. From somewhere outside, the lazy drone of a lawn mower could be heard.

With her head bent low, Riley plucked a piece of lint from her skirt. “I know you were never crazy about Trevor,” she said in a subdued voice. “But I loved him, Grandma.”

Florinda reached over and gently squeezed her hand. “I know you did, baby. And he loved you, too. I never doubted that.”

Riley lifted her grandmother's hand and held it to her heart, looking the other woman in the eye. “You're the only one I've told about my dreams, my fears. I hope you know…I hope you understand why I have to find out the truth.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Florinda reached up and cupped Riley's face in both hands. “I understand so much more than you could ever imagine. And someday, dear granddaughter, the confusion you've been feeling—about everything in your life, not just Trevor's death—will all make sense. Do you believe me?”

Tears burned at the back of Riley's throat. She nodded, but deep down inside she wondered if, perhaps, this was one time her grandmother's prediction about the future wouldn't come to pass.

When Noah left the San Antonio Police Department four years ago to start a private detective agency with his older brother, many of his comrades had feared he wouldn't keep in touch, that he'd simply drop off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again.

He'd proved them all wrong.

The first time he showed up for the Sunday-night game of pool at Fast Eddie's, the deafening cheers and applause that greeted him made him feel like a rock star. Four years later, not much had changed, other than a few expanding waistlines and hairlines that were beginning to recede—fodder for many of the jokes that were exchanged between the close-knit group of cops.

Thick smoke hung in the air over the bar and pool tables, and hard-edged hip-hop music blared from a jukebox in the corner. After winning his match, Noah sidled up to the bar and ordered a beer for himself and the detective who slid onto the stool beside him. The barmaid, an attractive young brunette wearing a tight T-shirt and cutoff jeans, offered Noah and his companion a sultry, inviting smile as she set the frothy beers on the counter before them.

“Enjoy your drinks, fellas,” she purred.

Paulo Sanchez winked at her. “We'd enjoy them even more if you'd join us, beautiful.”

She gave a demure little laugh. “Maybe next time.”

“That's what you always say,” Paulo protested, his dark gaze following the girl's shapely bottom as she moved off to tend to the next customer. “Damn. What a tease.”

Shaking his head, Noah scooped his cold bottle off the counter and took a healthy swig of beer. “Look on the bright side,” he said pragmatically.

“What's that?”

“She says the same thing to everyone. So she's an equal-opportunity tease.”

Paulo laughed, choking on a swallow of beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave Noah a sideways look. “I bet she'd go out with you if you asked her.”

“Guess we'll never find out.”

Paulo gave his head a mournful shake. “Damned shame, that.”

At thirty-six, Detective Paulo Sanchez had been with the SAPD for fourteen years. In Noah's judgment, having worked with him in homicide and on patrol, Paulo Sanchez was one of the best of the best: aggressive, hard, intelligent. A cop's cop. Wearing a black T-shirt, faded jeans, scuffed leather boots, and sporting a perpetual five-o'clock shadow, Sanchez looked every bit the tough guy he was. But few people knew the depth of the emotional scars he bore, byproducts of a failed marriage and the brutal murder of a woman he'd once had an affair with. The guilt he'd suffered in the aftermath of both had nearly destroyed him, sending him into a tailspin of self-destructive behavior until his cousin, an FBI agent at the local field office, had intervened. Sanchez had taken a six-month leave of absence to, as he put it, “get his scrambled marbles in order.”

The self-imposed sabbatical seemed to have worked. He'd quit smoking and now adhered to a strict two-drink limit whenever he went out. Noah, like every other cop gathered at the pool hall that Sunday evening, had a tremendous amount of respect for the way Paulo had turned his life around. How could you not respect a guy who was willing to admit he needed help?

Noah wondered grimly if he could apply the same solution to his obsession with Riley Kane. But it wasn't as if a sabbatical would cure him. The woman already lived halfway across the country—how much more distance could he ask for?

“So what's going on with you,
mi amigo?
” Paulo asked conversationally. “How's life as a P.I.?”

“Business is good,” Noah said, shoving thoughts of Riley aside. “So good, in fact, that we're seriously considering hiring another investigator.”

“No kidding? Even with your sister as the third partner, you still need help with the caseload?”

Noah nodded. “Especially now that Daniela's thinking about going to law school.”
For real this time
, he mused, inwardly grimacing at the memory of his younger sister going undercover as a law student in order to get the goods on her husband's father, a prominent defense attorney suspected of criminal negligence. The undercover assignment had ended disastrously, and Daniela's role in it had nearly cost her the love of her life. Noah had been racked with guilt for months afterward, even after the couple reconciled.

He, like Paulo, definitely knew a thing or two about guilt.

“Daniela wants to become a lawyer?”

“She's considering it. She and her husband have talked about opening their own law firm someday.”

Paulo snorted. “Why doesn't Thorne just run his old man's firm? Hell, it's already well established and successful.”

“Caleb's not interested in practicing criminal law anymore. I respect that about him—the man knows what he wants and doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks.”

“You're like that, too, Roarke. Remember how much flak you caught when you announced you were leaving the force to start a business with your brother?”

Noah chuckled grimly. “Yeah. I think there were bets going around about how soon I'd be back in the chief's office, begging for my old job.”

“I know.” Paulo grinned. “I started one of 'em.”

“Bastard,” Noah grumbled without rancor.