Impulsive (8 page)

The idea that she could be lured in only to get sucker punched pissed her off. She was too smart to fall for a pretty line. She'd learned that at nineteen at the hands of a master. Looked like she'd just been handed a second lesson by a pro.

“Unfortunately, I think I'm starting to.”

E
ric waved off the waitress when she appeared with a second round of coffee. He'd been stuck in a working dinner with Kevin and Seth for two hours. All he wanted to do was get home and call Katie. Better yet, get home and find Katie waiting in his house.

Instead, he sat in a crowded restaurant listening to the buzz of conversation from other tables and the clinking of glasses and silverware. A few fellow patrons spent more time staring at Eric than eating. He was used to it. Didn't like it, but he'd learned how to block it out.

The only thing he didn't have at the moment was patience. He had not heard a word from Katie since the box was delivered. Not that she'd have been able to track him down anyway. He'd been stuck in court most of the day and, as far as he remembered, he'd never bothered to give her his phone number. A total dick move but not intentional. It was a complete oversight. If he'd been thinking, that piece of information would have been included on the card.

Kevin pushed back his dessert plate and drew his coffee cup closer. “Everything is ready to go.”

Eric fought the urge to raise his hands in victory. “Good. Then we're done.”

“Not quite,” Kevin said before Eric had finished his sentence.

To prevent a drawn-out discussion, Eric signaled for the waitress. If she saw him, she was ignoring him. That was what he got for sending her away a few seconds earlier. It was time to pay the bill and get out of there. “I'm officially declaring this campaign meeting over.”

“It's an ethics violation for me to talk about it anytime except outside of work,” Seth said.

Eric's control took another hit. “I know the rules about government workers and political campaigns.”

“Just checking.”

“I meant I was done with the conversation. We're in a good position. Gunnery hasn't gotten his campaign together. We're ahead here.”

Kevin took a sip and eyed Eric over the top of his mug. “What's the rush?”

“I'm on my fifteenth consecutive hour of work for the day.”

“Join the club,” Seth mumbled.

Kevin cleared his throat in a way that anyone who knew him understood as trouble. “The Deana situation.”

“Aw, shit,” Seth said under his breath.

Eric felt his temper flare. It was like a live, angry beast inside him. “We've gone over this.”

“Not the way we need to.”

Eric clenched his jaw to keep from yelling loud enough to cause a scene guaranteed to make the papers. “We're not talking about this subject.”

“This isn't about the relationship,” Kevin said.

“You're not helping your case.” Seth hid his mouth behind his hand but could be heard round the table.

Kevin shook his head. “This isn't a joke. I need to know what happened in Ryan's case. Not the original. After.”

“We're done here.” Eric gave a second wave to the waitress. The woman had five seconds to get the check on the table or someone else was paying for dinner.

“Kevin, ease up.” Seth looked back and forth at the other men. “This is not a fight we should have in public.”

The bile rolling around in Eric's stomach wouldn't stop. “I'm tired of having it at all.”

Seth gave a quick glance around the restaurant before leaning in tighter and lowering his voice. “Kevin is trying to help.”

Right now his campaign manager was the last person he wanted to see or talk to, so Eric focused on Seth. “You know what I went through with Deana and that case. You were there.”

“No one is denying that,” Kevin said.

“I'm leaving.”

Seth stood up at the same time. “Wait a second.”

Eric finally acknowledged Kevin, letting him see every ounce of his fury in every line of his body. “Looks like dinner is on you.”

 

Katie arrived at Eric's condo ready for a fight. The fact that Eric had put her on the approved guest list didn't blunt her resentment. Okay, maybe a little. After all, it took a public declaration of sorts to do that.

Still, the key sent a signal she didn't appreciate. For a smart man, Eric was acting pretty dumb. The way she figured it, he had another hour to get a clue.

But he needed to come home first. Until he did, she snooped around.

He lived in a duplex in an older building with few amenities and a plain lobby except for the guard at the desk. Nothing extravagant from the outside, but it sat in an impressive part of town. Her beat-up two-door looked like an intruder in the guest parking space.

Inside, his unit told her more about Eric than she'd learned in their days together. She'd expected a neat and tidy small place, tastefully decorated but still masculine. She was half right.

The large open family room was framed by floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end. From this angle, she could see the lights from other high-rises and a sliver of the darkness beyond, which she assumed was the ocean. Overstuffed furniture pointed at what appeared to be the highlight of the room from Eric's perspective—a huge flat screen television. The dining room off to the left side consisted of a large table with about a hundred stacks of documents piled on top. Boxes littered the floor. Papers were scattered everywhere.

So much for the neat freak stereotype.

A plate and a coffee mug sat on the kitchen counter, along with a jar of peanut butter. Clearly he was not a gourmet cook, but she'd check out the refrigerator to confirm that later. First, she wanted to see the bedroom. Something told her the bed would be unmade. For some reason that lightened some of the fiery anger she'd been fighting off all afternoon.

She got a third of the way up the staircase when the front door opened. She almost called out, using a less than flattering greeting, but the sound of high heels clicking against the marble entry floor stopped her. So did the quick peek she caught of her visitor. She'd know the woman with the long black hair and high cheekbones anywhere.

Deana Armstrong Windsor.

From her white silk pants to her sleeveless high-necked navy sweater, the woman oozed wealth. Gold bangles clicked together on her wrist, and she carried a purse that probably cost more than Katie's car. Confidence floated around her, appearing in perfect posture and a trim figure.

Deana was exactly as Katie remembered from the wedding. Put together and beautiful in a way that came naturally rather than from hours in front of a mirror.

Katie hated her on sight.

“Eric? Are you home?” Deana walked in and dropped her purse on the dining room table.

No question whether she knew her way around the place. Since she was here, Katie assumed her name was on the approved guest list, too.

Strike two
.

Katie thought about tackling the other woman and pulling that wavy hair. See if it would be all shiny then. But Eric picked that exact moment to walk in behind Deana and the rage bubbling in Katie's stomach found a new target.

He stopped when he saw his secret girlfriend standing there. The
married
secret one. “How did you get in?”

Deana shrugged her lean shoulders. “The door was open.”

“Not possible.” Eric glanced around the ground floor.

When he looked in her direction, Katie ducked behind the first landing. She didn't think he could see her, but she didn't think he'd give two women keys to his condo either, so what the hell did she know.

“I knocked and it opened,” Deana said.

The conversation finally penetrated her brain. Didn't sound like they'd came in together. Katie couldn't understand how that was possible since they'd walked in a few minutes apart. She searched her memory for a knock. She remembered hitting the fourth or fifth step and hearing the door open, but that was about it.

Eric spun around in circle, his stare moving all over the room. “I locked up when I left this morning, which feels like two days ago at this point.”

“I don't know what to tell you. Honestly, it wasn't closed tight,” Deana said.

Katie thought about jumping out. It would be better to announce her presence than have Eric call the police and drag her out. If her feelings weren't all jumbled up inside, she would have ended this scene already. But she had no idea what was going on or what Deana being there meant.

From the way his forehead wrinkled and his mouth turned down, Eric appeared as confused as Katie felt. Despite that, she wasn't willing to let him off the hook. Not yet. Not when he'd messed up so many times during the last twelve hours.

So, she sat down on the step and eavesdropped. She dared him to get mad at her over that.

 

Eric blinked a few times. He couldn't believe what was happening. Deana…in his house. He'd dreamed about that for months after Deana broke it off. At times he concluded the fantasy by kicking her out and taking some much-needed revenge. Other times he welcomed her into bed. None of those times did he stand there and not know what to say.

He'd been handed the scenario he thought he wanted, and all he could do was look at the woman who'd once meant everything to him and wonder why she wasn't Katie.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Kevin called me.”

Eric had almost calmed down from the dinner fiasco. Now his frustration built to the point of boiling. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.”

Deana shot him an apologetic smile. “No.”

“When?” He dropped his briefcase on the floor and rested his fists against the dining room table as he struggled to wrestle his raging temper back under control.

“What does that—”

“When, Deana?” It wasn't until his voice bounced off the walls that Eric realized he was shouting. “Sorry. Don't mean to take this out on you.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.” Last thing he wanted was Deana's pity. “Tell me what happened and what he said to get you here.”

“Kevin called me this afternoon. He said you had a huge problem and it centered on me.”

So before dinner. Kevin sat there, ate his steak, talked about donors, but didn't drop that bomb. Eric thought about firing Kevin's sorry ass.

“He was being an ass. Everything's fine.” Eric felt anything but calm at the moment, but the days of sharing his thoughts with Deana were long gone.

“He's worried about you.” Deana pulled out the chair closest to Eric and sat down. He wasn't convinced he liked how comfortable she acted in his home. He got near her and fumbled around like an idiot. His insides jumped until his mind scrambled.

At least that's usually what happened. This time he was more worried about Katie showing up and misinterpreting the situation and pissed off at how other people were running his life. Then there was the very real possibility of Josh making an appearance. The man carried a gun and weighed a good twenty pounds more than Eric. Fighting with him would be a very bad idea.

“I don't know why Kevin won't let this go,” Eric said more in an argument with himself than anything else.

“How can I help?” Deana reached her hand out toward his.

The movement snapped him out of his stupor. He stood up before they touched. “Coming to my condo when half the town thinks we're having an affair probably wasn't the best move.”

“We know what's happening here.”

“
We
do.”

Her mouth twisted. “And I'm married.”

“The gossip covers all of that and then spins from there. Secret meetings, sex on the side. You've heard it.”

“I don't care what people think. We're friends and always will be.”

Eric wasn't sure that label was even accurate. “People assume we're fooling around.”

She waved off his comment. Made a pretty nasty face while doing it. “Dumb rumors.”

“I'm not sure if that's an insult or not, so I'll let it slide.”

Her face paled. “You know what I mean. I care about you. Very much.”

“Yeah.” He needed her out of there. Not because he couldn't control his urges. He needed to be alone to explode, and he was going to. “Look, Deana, I appreciate your coming over and the intention behind it, but this isn't a good idea.”

“You helped me out and now you could have a problem because of it. You made a horrific situation tolerable, and you had to do it while I berated you. The least I can do is offer some support.”

That was the first time she'd ever admitted that he got something right in the Ryan situation. Ever since the arrest, she'd blamed him. Eric could still hear her agonized crying and feel the dull ache of abandonment as she pushed him away both physically and emotionally when her begging failed.

Eric tried to analyze the change in her, but decided it was a waste of time. “It was the right thing to do.”

“A lot of people won't see it that way. Your opponent, for one.”

“I made a decision and I'll stand by it.” Eric blamed Deana for a lot of things. His career trajectory and its future weren't on the list. No one had forced him to take the route he chose.

Josh had come to Eric months ago and asked for a favor. A final gift for Deana even though they were long over and she was well on her way to marriage with Josh. Many people, including Deana, insisted Ryan was innocent despite his conviction. When handed the power to bring closure to Deana, her mother, and those in the community who believed a killer still lurked while an innocent kid sat in jail, Eric took it.

No matter what anyone said, the call was his sole responsibility and if it cost him the job he'd always believed he wanted, so be it.

“You haven't changed,” Deana said, the smile obvious in her voice.

Neither had she. Not in this one way. Deana's happiness still had the power to light up a room. If anything, it glowed even brighter now that she was married.

Eric had never guessed she would find that type of all-encompassing satisfaction. Not after everything that had happened and the incredible pain she'd experienced. But something inside her was different. A slight movement away from her usual centered coolness. Her mood struck him as more settled. Calm. She no longer hid behind a harsh mask while inside drowning in sadness.