Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3) (17 page)

"She may not find out. It depends on how much you want to tell the cops."

"What will they even do? Nothing was taken. No one was hurt. We have no witnesses. I can't believe they'll do anything more than take a report and file it. Do they even check for fingerprints in cases like this?"

"Doubtful. And, frankly, I don't think they'd find any. We need to call a locksmith, get your lock fixed."

"I thought I was safe here. I never felt afraid."

He was sorry that she was scared now. "I should have stayed away from you, Dani."

"It might not have mattered. I saved your life in that park. Erica knew about it when I got into the office on Monday."

He raised an eyebrow at that piece of information. "You never said that before."

"Didn't I?"

"How did she find out so fast?"

"She said she has friends in the Corpus Christi Police Department. If any staffer's name comes up, they tell her about it."

"That's odd and very creepy."

"She's thorough. The staff's behavior reflects on the senator. She's been direct about that. She's not going to like this."

Dani's security buzzer went off, and she rang the cops into the building. A few minutes later, two uniformed officers entered the apartment.

While Dani was talking to the officers, he searched on his phone for a locksmith and found one that was open twenty-four hours a day. He made a call, happy when the locksmith said he could be there in ten minutes. True to his word, he arrived just as the police were leaving.

"Why don't you pack a bag and come with me to the hotel?" he suggested to Dani while the locksmith put on a new lock.

"I'll be fine once I can lock the door again," she said. "I'd rather just stay here. And who knows what's happened at your hotel? Your room could look like this one."

"You have a point. All right. I'll stay here with you then."

"Patrick, no," she said with a frown.

"I'm not leaving you alone after what happened. I'll sleep on the couch."

Dani didn't answer; her attention was drawn to the locksmith, who told them that the new lock was good to go.

"Thanks," she said, signing the receipt after providing her credit card information. "I appreciate you coming out so late."

"That's what I do," the man said. "Take care."

"I will." She shut the door and turned the new dead bolt into place.

Patrick put the couch cushions back together and sat down. He kicked off his shoes and stretched out his feet on the coffee table, making it clear he wasn't leaving.

Dani walked back to the couch. "You really can go back to your hotel."

"I'm staying. We can argue about it all night if you want." He paused, wondering if something else was bothering her. "If you're worried that you can't trust me, Dani—"

She shook her head, cutting him off. "I'm not worried about that."

"Really? Because we were fairly combustible earlier tonight." It seemed like a very long time ago that they'd been caught up in each other's arms. But now that they were alone again, he was reminded of just how intense and amazing those few moments had been.

"We don't need to talk about it."

"We don't?"

She sat down at the far end of the couch with a frown. "Well, maybe we do."

"That was a fast turnaround."

"I feel like we should clear the air. I can't deny that there's something between us, Patrick. Obviously, there's an attraction."

"A very strong one," he agreed.

"But that said, I don't want to take it any further."

He felt enormously disappointed by her words. "I understand. Too bad, though. It's not that often I feel such a draw to someone."

Her green eyes glittered. "I know. It's kind of rare."

"Something to consider," he pointed out.

"I'm all about my job right now. And you're on a quest for the truth about your mother. We both need to focus on what's important to us."

"I suppose. We could say we're just putting things on hold then…"

She sighed. "Fine. A super long hold that may last forever."

"I'll take it."

She looked around the room. "This is going to take some cleanup."

"I'll help you."

"I don't want to do it tonight."

He was happy to hear that, because he didn't want to do it, either. "Why don't you take off your shoes, sit back and relax?"

"I should go to bed."

Despite her words, he could see how amped up she was. "You're wired; so am I. Let's talk for a bit. Let the adrenaline burn off. I'm sure I'll bore you to sleep pretty fast."

She gave him a dry smile. "You've been anything but boring so far, Patrick."

"Give me a chance."

She took off her shoes and sat back on the couch, curling her legs up under her as she turned sideways to face him. "Tell me about your childhood then. What did you like to do? What were your hobbies? Were you good in school, always getting straight As, or were you a rebel, driving fast cars, cutting class, and smoking cigarettes in the parking lot?"

He smiled at the questions, happy that some of the panic and angst had left her voice. "I was just an average kid. I got decent grades. School came fairly easy for me. I was probably a little lazy at times. If I didn't see the point to an assignment, I had a hard time doing it, and there were a lot of pointless assignments in high school."

"I bet the teachers loved that attitude."

"I eventually did the assignment, but sometimes half-assed. Dissecting the meaning of some poem just didn't matter to me. Would we ever really know if the poet meant the light to mean an actual lamp or an inner emotional brightness?"

She laughed. "Poetry is supposed to make you question things, look beyond the words to the meanings. Surely, as a writer, you can appreciate that."

"I can appreciate that poetry is not for me," he said with a grin.

She smiled back at him. "So, not the most intense high school student, which surprises me a little. I've seen how determined you can be to get to the bottom of something."

"I don't do anything that matters to me half-assed."

"Just poetry."

"And a few other things. Getting back to your other questions. I did like to drive fast in high school. Still do. I definitely was not smoking in the parking lot. However, I might have made out there a few times."

A knowing gleam appeared in her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me. With your looks and confidence, I'll bet you were very popular."

"I also played football. That came with some nice perks, like pretty blonde cheerleaders."

"Let me guess—you were the quarterback."

"I like to call the plays," he admitted.

"Did you ever get hurt?"

"I had two concussions. Back in my day, people weren't as concerned about them as they are now. I'm lucky mine were mild. Hopefully, they didn't screw up my brain too much."

"Would you let your kid play football?"

"Whoa—we're jumping to kids now?"

"Just curious," she defended. "You're the one who wanted to talk."

"Fine. I don't think I'd encourage my child to play football knowing what I know now about the sport. Unless, of course, he really wanted to. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of my kid's dream." He cocked his head to the side, studying her face. "Let's talk about you. I'm not thinking sports for you."

"Why? Do I look un-athletic?"

"I just think you'd consider running after a ball a waste of time."

"I played soccer for a while, but I didn't love it, and it took too much of my time."

"Wait a second," he said, suddenly realizing who he was talking to.

"What did I say?" she asked with an arch of her eyebrow.

"It's what you didn't say. You were a pretty blonde cheerleader, weren't you?"

A wave of pink swept her cheeks. "Possibly."

"I knew it."

"I liked to dance. It was fun. And I liked to wear the outfit," she said.

"I bet you looked good in it."

"I did," she said, cockiness in her gaze. "I had great legs."

"You still do."

"But I did more than cheerlead," she continued. "I was also class president."

"Impressive. Your love of politics started early."

"It did. I liked being in the thick of things, in a position to make things happen."

"That experience might come in handy down the road when you stop working for the senator and start working for yourself."

"I need a lot more than high school experience before I'd run for an office."

"But that's what you want, isn't it? That's the end goal?"

"I honestly don't know. I think so, but I have to admit that since I got to DC, things haven't gone exactly as I imagined. There's more maneuvering, backroom deals, political spin…"

"And that surprised you?"

"I was more insulated in Texas. The senator wasn't even in the office half the year. It was easier to concentrate on the work." She stretched out her legs and stood up. "I'm going to make some tea. Do you want some?"

"Sure. Do you have any food?"

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow. "You didn't eat at the gala? There was a tremendous spread."

"That was hours ago."

She walked into the kitchen, and he could hear her foraging around in the fridge. "I can do grilled cheese with tomatoes," she said.

"I'll take it." He got up from the couch and wandered into her small kitchen. "In fact, I'll make it," he added. "I'm an expert at grilled cheese."

"I don't know if I'd be bragging about that."

He laughed. "Good point. I should save the boasting for something more important."

"Let me ask you this: is there anything you don't do well, Patrick?"

He thought for a moment. "I'm not good at walking away—even when I should."

His words stole the smile off her face. "I used to be good at that," she said. "I used to have better tunnel vision. That seems to be changing."

"Because of me?" he asked quietly.

She gave him a long look, and suddenly, the kitchen felt a lot smaller. He'd promised to behave, but that was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Maybe," she said. "But I am walking away now. You cook. I'm going to change my clothes."

As she moved past him, he caught her by the arm. "One kiss." It was an impulsive request based on the fact that his body was desperate for her touch.

She shook her head, determination in her green eyes. "It wouldn't stop at one." She slipped out of his grip. "Focus on your grilled cheese. I want to be impressed."

"All right. I won't let you down."

She met his gaze. He was talking about more than the grilled cheese, and she knew it.

But all she said was, "I hope not."

Eleven

An hour later, Dani was finally starting to feel sleepy. Her stomach was full after she'd eaten one of the most delicious grilled cheese sandwiches she'd ever had. Patrick had definitely backed up his boast. Now they were sitting on the couch, sipping the last of the chamomile tea. Aside from that one moment in the kitchen when he'd wanted a kiss, he'd respected the boundaries she set, and it had been nice to just talk to him about nothing important. It was all still simmering in the background, but it felt good to let it go for a few minutes.

She knew she should get up and go to bed, but she was a little afraid that in the dark of the night, some of the fear from the last few hours would come back. While nothing had been stolen, her private space had been invaded. Someone had gone through her things, touched her personal items, and looked in her drawers. She didn't know if she'd ever feel the same way about her apartment again.

"Stay with me, Dani," Patrick said.

She started. "What?"

"Your thoughts are taking you away, and judging by your expression, you're not going anywhere good."

"Good guess. It's late, and I have to get up in a few hours to go to work. I really should go to bed."

"You'll be safe. I'm staying right here."

"I do appreciate that," she admitted. "I don't think I'd sleep if I were here alone."

"I'll be here when you wake up."

She nodded, wishing she wasn't starting to like him so much. The physical attraction had been instant, but now there was a growing emotional attachment, too. He was sexy as hell, but he was also smart and funny. His love for his family and his pursuit of the truth in the face of danger made him even more attractive.

Another place, another time…

"Dani?" he questioned, his gaze searching her eyes. "Is there something you want to say?"

"No. Only good-night," she said, forcing herself to stand up. She walked into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind her.

* * *

Patrick got back to his hotel a little after eight on Thursday morning, wondering if he'd find it in the same condition as Dani's apartment had been in the night before, but his room looked exactly as he'd left it. Why Dani's apartment and not his hotel room? Why would she be more of a target than he was? What would she have that he wouldn't?

Was the search tied to the people who employed her? Were they the ones who were worried? Had Joe been less of a loyal friend to Dani than she thought? Had he told Dillon's office what Dani was up to, where she was headed? Was the senator and his office more worried about what Dani was doing than what he was doing?

The questions went around and around in his head as he stripped off his clothes and got into the shower to clear his head. Hopefully things would become clearer when he heard back from Ann Higgins. He also had lunch with Erica at one. That might be more of a fact-finding mission for her than for him, but he'd take it. Erica might not be Senator Dillon, but she was the next best thing.

He'd like to get Erica on his side, make her an ally instead of an enemy. It would be better for him and even more importantly, better for Dani.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and got dressed. He'd just finished buttoning his shirt when his phone rang. His heart jumped.

"Hello?"

"It's Ann."

"What do you have?"

"A place to go for further instructions."

"What are you talking about? Did you speak to your source?"