Love on Trial (11 page)

“That,” he replied smugly, “is exactly why I wouldn't tell you.”

“Incorrigible man,” she grumbled.

“I'll mend, Siri,” he promised. “Nadine came to see me a few minutes before you got here,” he added with a grin. “Hysterical. Absolutely hysterical.”

“You heartless thing, how can you smile about it like that?” she asked incredulously.

“A woman doesn't get hysterical over a man unless she cares about him,” he replied. He crossed his arms behind his
head with a lazy smile. “You know, I just may marry that woman.”

“Finally, you've come to your senses!” Siri laughed. “I wondered if you'd ever wake up and realize what a jewel she was.”

His eyebrows went up. “You approve?”

“I couldn't approve more. You know I love Nadine.”

“I've been lonely since your mother died,” he added softly. “Nadine's been a shot in the arm. She's attractive, and good company….”

“And she loves you to distraction,” Siri finished, with a quiet smile.

He eyed her closely. “The way you love Hawke?” he asked.

She dropped her eyes to her folded hands. “I must be awfully transparent,” she murmured.

“So is he,” he said enigmatically. “Or don't you know yet how he feels?”

“He wants me,” she said quietly.

“You really are blind if that's all you think it is,” Jared told her flatly. “My gosh, he's so jealous of you he can't see straight! He has been for years, and you've never even noticed it.”

“Jealous…of me?” she asked, staggered by this new insight.

“Murderously. Siri, hadn't you ever wondered why he lost his temper every time you mentioned Holland's name?”

That hadn't occurred to her before, but a lot of things were just beginning to make sense. And for the first time, she felt a sense of hope.

 

She finished her political interview and broke for lunch, then she went back to the office and wrote it amid a hundred interruptions. She turned it in, started on the Devolg story, working from memory and notes, and finally tracked down the court reporter to ask what information he'd gotten from Hawke.

“Two words,” he told her with a grin.
“‘Go ahead.' He cut the Megars girl into fish bait on the stand. She confessed to the murder five minutes after he started on her. Whew,” he exclaimed, “I hope I never have to face that man in a courtroom. My God, I've never watched anyone that coldly efficient with words!”

Or that ruthless.
He didn't say it, but she read it in his face. She knew better than most people just how ruthless her father's partner could be, how single minded. What Hawke wanted, he got. And now, he wanted Siri…. The thought made her shudder. How was she going to go about resisting him when he was suddenly her whole world? Loving him as she did would make denying that love next to impossible.

 

She'd just walked into Bill's office to hand him her copy. It was late afternoon, darkness lowering on the city and she'd taken her sweet time with the story because of interruptions, like returning
phone calls or chasing down tacky little facts for verification. Nearly dark, nearly quitting time, and she was afraid to go home. It was almost funny.

Bill was on the phone, motioning to her to wait as he wound up the conversation. He put down the receiver roughly.

“Is anyone out there with a camera?” he asked her, gesturing toward the newsroom.

“No,” she replied, “most of the day people have gone home. Why?”

“Grab your equipment and get out to Browmner Apartments,” he said, “and hurry. The whole place is going up in smoke. I've got Sandy on the scene to get the story. I just need some shots. How about it?”

“I'm on my way,” she agreed quickly.

She grabbed her camera and accessories and ran out to her car. She'd be late getting home for sure now. Maybe Hawke would get discouraged and she could put off the showdown until a safer time.

 

The two-story apartment building was totally immersed in flames by the time she got there. The county fire department had two engines on the scene, and another pulled up about the same time Siri did. Hoses and firemen in turnout gear were everywhere, and the smell of smoke was thick, pungent, and vaguely nauseating.

Residents of the complex were outside in various states of dress, watching the orange flames shooting up into the darkening sky, watching the firemen hold the pressure hoses as they shot water into the building.

Unconsciously, Siri looked for the assistant fire chief. He was new on the job, and she'd known him for several years, ever since he'd started out with the local civil defense unit as a volunteer rescue worker. Herman Jolley was a dedicated fireman, and he'd had to earn the respect of the other men on the detail. He'd done that quite successfully in only six months.

Her sharp eyes focused on his tall, thin body in the metallic turnout gear that protected the firemen from the unbearable temperatures they encountered. He was right at the front entrance, just emerging from the blazing complex with a small child held tightly in his arms. It was a perfect shot, and Siri moved quickly toward him with the camera raised, pushing her trailing scarf out of the way as she concentrated on the shot. She was clicking away when a voice shouted her name, and the thick smoke suddenly surged into her nostrils as if she were standing in the flames. A rough hand caught her, ripping the scarf form her neck, beating at her back.

She whirled in time to see the scarf dissolve in flames on its way to the ground, and blinked confusedly at one of the firemen she knew who was glowering at her.

“You crazy woman,” he grumbled, “don't you know better than to ease too
close to a burning building in a chiffon scarf?”

“You tell her, Smitty,” Jolley seconded, moving in with a blackened face. “Siri, we've told you about that before. The picture isn't worth your life, is it?”

“I'll be damned if I know how her mind works,” came a deep, husky, very angry voice over her shoulder.

She turned and found Hawke standing there with Sandy Cudor at his side. He reached out and snatched the camera from her hands, giving it to Sandy.

“Take that to Bill Daeton,” he told the young man. “And tell him not to expect Siri in the morning,” he added with blazing, dangerous eyes. “What the hell was she doing, Herman?” he asked Jolley.

“Trying for a prize winning shot,” Jolley told him with a grin. “Hit her once for me, will you? I don't like most reporters, but I'd like to see this one live a bit longer. Excuse me, folks, I think the
fire's waiting for me to come put it out. These fatheads aren't making much headway.”

Jolley sauntered back off with his men, and Hawke glared down at Siri with compressed lips.

“If you knew what I felt when I got here and saw that scarf burning…” He caught her wrist with a hurtful, steely grip. “You damned little fool, this is the last time. The last time, Siri! From now on, Daeton's going to put you on the meeting circuit, or something safe!”

The anger was laced with caring, and she heard that note in his dark voice. “But, it's my job…”

“Not anymore,” he said flatly. “I'm not risking you again.”

“You don't own me, Hawke!” she protested.

“The hell I don't,” he replied, jerking her face up to his.

She looked into those glittering, dark eyes and couldn't look away. It wasn't an
ger that made them glow like that, but, what was it? Her fingers lifted to his hard, set face, lightly touching his profile and the chiseled line of his mouth, while around them there were the sounds and smells of the burning building, the angry voices, and the whirr of machinery.

“If you go on touching me like that,” he said gently, “I'm going to have to do something about it.”

“Oh…” She dropped her fingers to his jacket, and her eyes along with them. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not, Siri,” he said quietly. “Let's get out of here.”

She followed him meekly to his Mercedes. “What about my car?” she asked, as he put her in on the passenger side.

“I'll have it delivered back to your house,” he said tightly. “Right now, I've got bigger things on my mind than cars.”

 

They rode in silence back to Siri's house. He pulled up at the steps and es
corted her inside. She took off her sweater and went to the bar in the living room, still a little shaken by her experience with the fire.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked quietly.

He took off his jacket and tie wearily, and loosened the top buttons of his shirt. He sat down heavily on the sofa and studied her in a blazing silence.

“You could have refused that assignment,” he said, ignoring her question. “Were you afraid of coming home, Siri?”

She poured herself a small glass of sherry and sipped it nervously. “Of course not!” she said quickly.

“You're too pale by far, little girl,” he remarked, “and thinner. Haven't you been sleeping?”

“I…I sleep fine.”

“Well, I sure as hell don't,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing to glittering slits as they swept over her. “I've forgot
ten what it was like to sleep. Or enjoy a meal. Or watch television. Or any of the other mundane things I used to indulge in before you turned my life upside down.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Do you want to know why I got into that car with Nita?” he demanded angrily, “when I could barely stand the sight of the two-timing little backstabber? I wanted to show you that those few kisses I'd given you didn't mean anything. That I could walk away from you any damned time I pleased. And I proved it.” He sighed wearily. “I sat in a bar until two-thirty in the morning and had to hire a cab to drive me home. I barely made it to my bed before I passed out.”

“I've never known you to drink like that,” she said quietly.

He looked up and met her searching gaze squarely.

“You've never known me at all, Siri,” he told her in a deep, hushed tone, “be
cause you've been afraid to get that close. And I've wanted you so much, for so long, that I feel as if I've had an arm ripped off.”

She finished her sherry and set the glass down on the slick finish of the padded bar. “Wanting doesn't last, Hawke,” she said shakily.

“Come here and prove that to me,” he said roughly.

“What would it prove?” she asked.

“That when I touch you, we make the sweetest fire this side of heaven together,” he replied gently. “That you want me every bit as much as I want you. That we're in love, Siri.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parted with a note of shock. Had she heard him right? He got up leisurely and reached her in two long strides to pull her body against the length of his, holding her close with two big arms.

“You heard me,” he said as he bent
his head. “Oh, God, I do love you so…!”

He kissed her with an aching tenderness, a fierce soft tasting that brought a muted whisper from her soft mouth. She reached up to hold him, believing it at last, drowning in the magic of loving and being loved. Tears welled in her eyes, and even as she wept, she wanted to laugh, and cry, and shout her happiness to the world.

He drew back a breath to look at her, and everything he felt was there in his face, in his eyes. The days of pretending were finished.

“I love you,” she whispered, testing the words, weighing them, making her own golden chains of them.

“I know.” He brushed a stray lock of blond hair away from her flushed cheek. “I knew that day on the beach in Panama City when I held you pinned to the sand and felt your heart bursting under me while I kissed you. You may not remem
ber exactly how you kissed me back, but I went around in a haze for the next week remembering it. You little witch, you left marks on my shoulders that haunted me every time I saw them in the mirror. That was when I had to admit to myself all you mean to me.” He smiled down at her. “From that small step down, it was a quick, hard fall to the bottom. I took the Hallers to Charleston in self-defense. I had to have a buffer between us or there wouldn't have been any stopping me. It took every ounce of willpower I had to keep my hands off you.”

“I thought you were still carrying a torch for Nita,” she admitted, “and I was afraid to let myself feel anything deeper than affection. I wanted to run.”

“So did I,” he mused. “And I tried. I thought I could walk away from you and live.” He sighed heavily, wrapping her closer to press a hard, rough kiss on her mouth. “I hope you like children,” he murmured. “I want a son.”

She smiled up at him. “Then you'll have to marry me.”

“Blackmail?” he whispered huskily, brushing his hard, warm mouth tantalizingly against hers.

“Uh huh,” she agreed softly. “So sue me.”