The Last White Knight (6 page)

He left with the police, who were carrying the offending rock in a plastic sandwich bag like an item for show-and-tell at school. Lynn stood at the front door and watched them go, her gaze reaching out beyond them to the neighboring houses, where people peered out windows and doors. The patrol car sat at the curb with its lights flashing like an oversize Christmas toy, a beacon to herald trouble. In her state of exhaustion and frustration, she could imagine the neighbors were staring right past the car, directing malevolent looks at her, as if it were her fault someone had vandalized the house, as if no one had ever before had to call the police in this fine, upstanding neighborhood.

She slowly stepped back inside and turned toward Erik. He looked tired and disappointed that his precious system of jurisprudence had let him down. It
was all Lynn could do to keep herself from giving him a conciliatory hug.

“Now that you’ve done your civic duty, Senator,” she said dryly, “can we call it a night?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah, let’s call it a night. Where do you want me to bed down?”

The question hit Lynn square in the chest, jolting the breath from her. She looked at him with a careful poker face, hoping to heaven she’d heard him wrong. “In your own little bed across town, or wherever it is you live,” she said evenly.

Erik shook his head. “Uh-uh. You could have been hurt tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lynn gaped at him, incredulous. “Well, you’re not staying here!”

“Guess again, counselor.” He planted himself in the doorway to the living room, feet spread, back against the door frame, looking for all the world like the original immovable object.

“You can’t stay here with me,” Lynn argued vehemently. “My God, what if the press got hold of that?”

“Someone attacked this house tonight and may very well have meant to attack you personally. What kind of man would I be if I just said ‘so long’ and went home?”

“The kind who has a healthy respect for gossipmongers.”

“I don’t have any respect for gossipmongers. I’m staying here to protect you. It’s perfectly innocent.”

“Famous last words,” Lynn muttered, pacing the hall, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor, her right hand rubbing anxiously at her forehead. “ ‘It was perfectly innocent.’ That’s what Gary Hart said. One day he’s running for president, the next he’s sitting in an office somewhere making paper-clip chains.”

Erik stepped out to block her path, taking hold of her shoulders. He looked her in the eyes, his expression curiously sweet. “Why don’t you let me worry about my reputation?”

Lynn gave a bark of laughter. “Because you obviously won’t do it! You came here to help us. I won’t be the ruination of your public image.”

That won her a chuckle that made her want to kick him in the shin. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held her in place with ridiculous ease.

“An hour ago you accused me of using my offer of help as a ruse to get you into my bed!” he exclaimed, blue eyes glittering with humor. “Now you’re worried about ruining me?”

She scowled at him. “So I was wrong. So sue me. You’re a stand-up guy. Now go home.”

“Nope. I’m not letting you stay here alone. You can go back to the other house and I’ll keep watch here or you can stay here with me.”

“I’ll call Lillian,” Lynn said, having no intention of following through. The initial burst of fear had long since burned off. She didn’t feel endangered, and neither did she feel incapable of staying alone. The rock hurler had made his point and gone home. She doubted he would be back tonight.

“Does Lillian have a husband who can come with her?”

“No. He died four or five years ago.”

“Then you can call Lillian and the three of us will stay here together. I’m not leaving women here unprotected.”

A sigh slipped from between Lynn’s lips as she regarded the man before her. She supposed she could have lied to him and told him Lillian had a husband, but she doubted it would have done her any good. For one thing, she was out of practice. Lies didn’t trip that easily from her tongue anymore. For another, the stubborn set of that granite jaw told her Erik wouldn’t leave until he was satisfied as to her safety. The idea touched her in a place she hadn’t allowed anyone near in a long, long time.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she complained, looking everywhere but at Erik. “All the rotten, unscrupulous
politicians in the world and I have to get the one who thinks he’s Lancelot.”

Erik chuckled to himself. The lady didn’t like being thwarted. She was too stubborn and too brave for her own good. Her eyes glittered with suppressed anger. Her soft, pretty mouth turned down in a slight exaggeration of its natural pout. She had the temper of a hellcat. It was a wonder she hadn’t jumped out the kitchen window, run the culprit to the ground, and pounded the snot out of him. He had little doubt that she could do it if she really wanted to. Despite her size and the impression of physical fragility, he had the feeling she was one tough little cookie, a sleek little cat who could hold her own in a fight. The trouble was, he wanted to hold it for her, and she didn’t like the idea one little bit.

Well, tough, Ms. Shaw, because you’re going to have to put up with me
.

She was too intriguing a package to walk away from. Too pretty, too wary. Her combination of toughness and vulnerability tugged at his heart in a way that was a unique experience for him.

No, he wasn’t leaving her alone tonight, or tomorrow, or any day soon.

“Faint heart never won fair lady,” he said, gentling his hold on her shoulders as she sighed, apparently resigning herself to her fate.

A sad smile tilted one corner of her mouth. “You don’t want to win me, Sir Erik,” she said softly, her eyes looking suddenly very old and very weary. “I’m no vestal virgin.”

“Did I say I was looking for one?”

No, Lynn thought, but that was what he needed: someone chaste of heart, pure as the driven snow—or at least as pure as the average citizen—someone good and golden to stand beside him on the campaign trail.

“I hear they’re highly overrated, those vestal virgins,” he murmured, lowering his head. “No spark.” He brushed his mouth across hers, making her shiver as the contact sent a rain of stardust along her nerve endings. “No fire,” he whispered, repeating the caress.

She should have walked away. She scolded herself for not doing it even as she tipped her head back. She should have moved and maintained a sane, safe distance. But she didn’t. She was tired, and an old, too-familiar loneliness was wearing through her armor in big rusty patches. The idea of being held for a moment was too appealing. To feel his masculine warmth envelop her and take her away from reality for just a minute was too tempting. It’s just a kiss, she told herself. What harm could there be in one kiss?

He settled his mouth against hers carefully,
tenderly, as if he thought she might break. His gentleness was something so rare, so sweet, it brought an ache of tears to her throat. She closed her eyes against the mist that threatened, not wanting Erik to see it or question it.

With the sudden darkness came the sense of falling, floating. She clutched his arms, at biceps so muscled she couldn’t begin to close her hands around them. She hung on to him, the only thing solid in a world turned suddenly to pure sensation. He splayed his hands across the small of her back and pulled her close, fusing them together in the maelstrom of passion that had been released.

Lynn trembled at the strength of it, at the strength of her own response. Her body seemed to melt against Erik’s, the instinct to seek out his solid warmth overriding the instinct to protect herself. She let her guard drop and simply let the experience sweep her up in the whirlwind, let herself experience every taste, every texture, let her heightened senses soak it all in like a dry sponge.

He tasted warm and sweet, like something she had been craving for a long time without knowing what to call it. She welcomed the gentle invasion of his tongue, sighing softly as he explored her mouth, trembling again at the symbolism. He was invading her body, crossing a line she had let no man cross in
a long time. It frightened her and excited her all at once in a confusing swirl of emotions. The tips of her breasts seemed suddenly unbearably sensitive as they pressed against the hard muscles of his chest. At the core of her femininity, a restless sensation stirred and teased, tempting her to press closer to him.

The fear won out in the end. This was happening too fast, when it shouldn’t have been happening at all. She had no business letting this man get this close. Lynn couldn’t quite believe she had let things go this far. A simple kiss was all it was supposed to be.

Erik felt her tense, sensed her pulling away from him even though she was still in his arms and pressed against the length of him. He raised his head reluctantly, opening his eyes like a man coming out of a trance. Lynn stared up at him, looking as stunned as he felt. He let her ease away from him, too aware of the level of arousal to which this one “simple” kiss had taken them both. He let her back away a step, but hung on to her shoulders, though whether it was to keep her from running or to keep himself from falling over he couldn’t have said.

They stared at each other for a long moment, awareness quivering in the air between them. Finally Erik nodded.

“I think I know the perfect chaperon.”

• • •

“Oh, my, yes,” Father Bartholomew said as he burrowed into the folds of his sleeping bag on the couch.

He had shed his clerical uniform for a rumpled gray sweat suit from Holy Cross Seminary. His hair stuck up in odd tufts at the crown of his head, suggesting he had already been in bed when Erik had gone to fetch him. But he had jumped at the chance to keep vigil at the house, scurrying to gather his things together as if he feared the offer might be rescinded before he got his chance at adventure.

He propped himself up now against the arm of the sofa, his face aglow. “This is quite an adventure for me. I feel a little like Father Dowling from the mysteries. You don’t suppose we might catch the culprit trying to sneak in?”

Erik started to say no, but the little priest looked so hopeful behind the lenses of his crooked glasses, he didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. “It’s a possibility.”

“Oh, my,” Father Bartholomew breathed, eyes round. “I haven’t been in on anything this exciting since my mission days in Africa. I was serving with some Jesuit fathers in Kenya. Those Jesuits can be
wild men, you know.” He chuckled and burrowed deeper into his nest. “Oh, the stories I could tell …”

Lynn shot a wry look at Erik, fighting to contain her smile. If nothing else, they were making Father Bartholomew’s day. “Thank you again for coming over, Father. I probably would have been fine here alone, but Senator Gunther insisted—”

“Don’t think a thing of it, dear!” the priest said, holding up a hand to forestall her explanation. “I’m glad to be of service. A sentry for God. Looking out for mischief makers and hanky-panky.” His cheeks colored suddenly and his eyes and mouth made three perfect
O
’s. “Not that I was expecting the two of you—I mean—My, no.”

“That’s all right, Father,” Lynn said, dodging his earnest expression, hoping he couldn’t see from her telltale blush that he’d already missed out on the hanky-panky. “Good night.”

“Good night, Lynn, dear. Sleep well.”

They left the father in the living room as he wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a boy at scout camp. Erik walked beside Lynn to the foot of the stairs in the hall. She had to fight the urge to bolt up the steps in order to escape the warm scrutiny of his eyes. Her senses seemed stuck in high gear, making her too aware of everything about him—the way he walked, the subtle scent of his aftershave,
the way his watch looked on his wrist, how blond the hair on his arm looked against his tanned skin.

“Well, I don’t think we have to worry about bad publicity, do you?” he said, his voice low and threaded with wry amusement. “No one would suspect us of having a wild night of hot, passionate sex while we had a priest for a chaperon.”

“No, I guess not.” Lynn trudged up two steps, her hand lingering on the newel post. She twisted around toward him hastily. “Not that anything would have happened without him being here,” she insisted.

Erik rocked back on his heels, his expression mockingly stern, eyes twinkling, lips twitching. “Oh, my, no.”

Lynn ground her teeth and scowled at him. “Nothing would have. Nothing will.”

A little gasp caught in her throat as he sprang up on the first step. His eyes were level with hers, as blue as the sky on a cloudless fall day. They seemed to catch her in a tractor beam that made it impossible to move or look away.

“Something already has,” he whispered, that gentle, knowing smile curling the corners of his lips. “Here’s to what comes next.”

He brushed a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek and stepped back down. “Good night, Lynn.”

“Good night, Senator.”

He chuckled at that and sauntered back to the living room. Lynn stood on the stairs and watched him go, her head throbbing at the idea of what might come next.