Withholding Evidence (4 page)

“That should be easy to arrange. The museum is pretty quiet during the week.”

Derrick handed her his card. “I’d appreciate your help in setting it up. Maybe next week?”

“I can try to help, but I’m afraid I don’t work for the museum. I’m an historian.”

He gave her a look that likely mirrored the one she’d given him when he said he worked for Alec and he didn’t fit her mold for a Raptor operative. Turnabout was fair play, and in this instance, she was just as guilty of making assumptions based on appearance. “Really? I assumed you were an administrative assistant or an intern at the museum. I mean, you’re so young, and Walt said you’re the person to talk to for tours.”

She rolled her eyes. “That sounds like the Walt I know and love.”

Cressida appeared by her side. “It looks like Dr. Hill is going to give a handful of NHHC people rides in his sub—maybe even before I return to Tallahassee. Do you want to put your name in for the tour?” she asked.

Trina suppressed a shudder. “No way. I’d get claustrophobic in a two-person sub.” She did not understand how archaeologists could find joy in all things buried or underwater. She’d take an oral interview or written account to tell her the past any day.

Derrick exchanged pleasantries with Cressida, then said he’d call Trina to arrange the tour and moved on. As soon as he was out of earshot, Trina said, “Walt just demoted me to museum docent.”

“At least docenting is fun. Wait, can docent be a verb?”

“It will be when I do it. I will verb the hell out of that job.”

Cressida laughed. Walt and Erica approached from across the lawn. From the look on Erica’s face, she wasn’t enjoying Walt’s company much either.

“Trina!” he said as if they were long lost friends. “I’ve been hoping to talk to you. I think one of my sources for a study of the UN coalition post-Desert Storm would respond better to a girl. I’d like you to interview him.”

She bit her tongue to keep from pointing out she wasn’t a
girl
any more than he was a
boy
. “I’m sort of swamped right now, Walt, what with all the other projects you shifted to me in the last weeks.”

He waved a hand. “Those are all small. A quick report for the department, a few paragraphs for the
Pull Together
newsletter, and you’re done. Hell, I’m surprised you haven’t finished them already.”

She narrowed her gaze. Ninety percent of the time, she thought Walt was clueless, but the other ten she was certain he was a calculating bastard who knew exactly what he was doing and saying. “Not all the sources are being cooperative.”

“I scheduled the interview for Tuesday morning. I’ll e-mail you with the details.” He walked away before she could protest.

“I can’t wait until he retires,” Erica said.

“Be glad you aren’t in the cubicle next to his.”

“I say a word of thanks every time I visit you.” Erica shot a glare toward Walt over her shoulder. “Tell Mara he was heavy-handed and skip the interview. It’s his job, not yours.”

Trina shrugged, unsure of how she’d handle it. If her schedule was free Tuesday morning, she didn’t really have a reason to say no. Her hire at NHHC was conditional. Until she reached the three-year mark, she had to toe a certain line, and Walt knew it. He was a technical GS-14, a higher pay grade and seniority level than everyone in the department, including Mara.

Most likely, Trina would do the interview, and she’d smile as she did it to hide her gritting teeth.

She took another sip of her wine. Over Cressida’s shoulder, she noted Perry was with Dr. Hill and Alec Ravissant. As soon as he broke away, she’d make her move.

She caught sight of Keith approaching out of the corner of her eye and felt a tingling sensation at the back of her neck. She wanted to flirt with Perry, but
Keith
was giving her goose bumps? What was
wrong
with her? He reached her side, and she glanced at him askance. “Well, Hatcher. You do clean up pretty.”

He laughed.

She turned to him, giving him her full attention. A scan from head to toe had her wishing her words weren’t true. He looked
good.
Really good. And she’d had no complaints about his appearance this morning when he was sleep rumpled and half-naked.

Well, she might even prefer him sleep rumpled and half-naked. Just the thought made her body heat.

Dammit.

He wore a simple button-down shirt and tan slacks, his broad shoulders and fine physique readily apparent even when covered. His short, dark hair no longer jutted up on one side; it was brushed back and revealed just a hint of curl. He smelled good too—a musky cologne that made her want to bite him.

He’s military. Not your type. He doesn’t respect you. He probably thinks you’re a twit simply because you are a woman.

She’d met enough men like that to last her.

“Trina, you left my house so fast this morning, I worried I’d never see you again.”

Erica looked at her sharply. The man made it sound like she’d snuck out after a one-night stand. Cressida merely looked confused, but then, as her roommate, she knew Trina had woken up in her own bed this morning.

She glared at him and pointed to a private corner of the garden. “Over there. Now.”

Hatcher grinned. “I love a woman who takes charge.”

Trina let out a frustrated sigh as she led him to the secluded corner. “Please, Senior Chief, those are my coworkers. Don’t give them the wrong idea about you and me.”

He smiled, giving his eyes a sexy heat. “Please, call me Keith. And I didn’t say anything that was inaccurate.”

“Keith, why are you here?”

“I read your e-mail after you left this morning. All of them, actually. I didn’t receive them because… It’s a long story and not relevant. But your e-mails made me realize you weren’t just showing up out of the blue on a Sunday morning. And I not only came on strong, I was a total ass. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His words caught her off guard. Honestly, even though she agreed he’d been an ass, she hadn’t really felt she deserved an apology. She
did
barge into his house uninvited on a Sunday morning, after all, and it wasn’t as if she wasn’t aware that SEALs had to be closemouthed about their ops. “Thank you. This is…unexpected. And nice.”

His smile was softer now, subtle, and somehow warmer. “I enjoyed meeting you this morning. You were quick, even when I was being a jerk.”

What was he saying? That he was
interested
in her? “Well, I work for the military. I’m used to your type.”

“Dollface, I’m not a type. I’m one of a kind.”

Ahh. There was the man she’d met this morning. She’d been wondering where he’d gone. She rolled her eyes and fought a smile. “Thanks for the apology, Senior Chief. Now, if you’re done, I have people I need to talk to.”

“Wait.” He caught her arm as she turned. “I didn’t come here just to apologize. I’d…like to see you again.”

Wow. She’d hadn’t taken him for the direct type. Then again, offering to masturbate in front her had been pretty damn direct, but he’d been trying to scare her off, not turn her on.

Admittedly, he’d done both.

“You expect me to believe you came all the way out to Annapolis to what… Ask me out?”

He cocked his head. “I don’t expect you to believe it, but it’s true.”

“You were talking with Alec. You know him. That’s why you’re here.”

“I was invited because I know Alec. I came because I guessed you’d be here. So what do you say, Trina? Want to have dinner with me?” He paused, then added, “Now?”

She cocked an eyebrow. He couldn’t be serious. “You mean leave the party?”

“Yes.”

She hesitated and couldn’t believe she even considered his offer. This was a pseudowork event. And she’d come here intending to flirt with Perry.

Perry.
Crap. She hadn’t even tried to talk to him yet. Perry, who was her type. Perry, who respected her.

She frowned. “I’d say yes to dinner with Senior Chief Hatcher so we could talk about the Somalia op. I don’t think I could handle Keith, who wants to ditch the party.”

“You don’t have to
handle
me.” His smile turned just a bit wicked, telling her exactly where those words sent his thoughts. He shook his head. “It’s just dinner. A conversation. Where it goes from there is up to you.”

But the very fact he said that left the door open for it to go
somewhere.
“You’re very…direct. I didn’t expect that.”

He held her gaze. “I’m always direct. I have no patience for games or bullshit.”

She could be direct too. “Will you tell me about Somalia?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry, but no thanks.” She turned and walked away, shocked she had the nerve to do it. She was ten times a fool, because who knew if he’d change his mind over dinner. But he didn’t have patience for games, and she couldn’t stomach them. She couldn’t go out to dinner with a man because she wanted something from him. But still, she couldn’t help but regret having a conscience.

K
EITH WATCHED HER
walk away, taking in the swing of her ass that told him what her answer had not—she was interested. She wanted him to notice her.

And he did. Now more than ever.

He had to respect her clarity of purpose. She wasn’t going to flirt with him, hoping he’d melt under her feminine wiles. Good call on her part, because no matter how sexy she was, no matter how far things between them went, he’d never, ever talk about Somalia. Not with her. Not with anyone.

Trina approached Dr. Hill, but her eyes were on the man by his side. Polished and slick, the man hung next to the host with an air of pompous importance. Or maybe Keith just felt that way because Trina had made a beeline for him after turning him down cold. And she looked at the guy like he was dinner.

He was probably highly educated, like her. If he hung out with Hill, he must be some sort of scientist. Shit. That guy was her type in a way Keith would never be.

P
ERRY
C
ARLSON WAS
a pompous bore. How had she never noticed that before?

It might be because the last time they’d chatted, he’d sipped only a single glass of champagne, but today he’d had quite a bit more to drink, and while he appeared composed, his tongue was clearly loosened by alcohol, exposing his braggart tendencies.

Then there was the fact that perhaps she had seen only what she wanted to see. And the person she wanted him to be had nothing to do with the reality of who Perry Carlson was.

But finally, and perhaps most interesting to Trina, was that a man who caused her neck to tingle and was anything but a bore had just told her he was interested, and now she found it hard to muster even the shallow attraction she’d harbored for Perry Carlson.

Shit. She should have taken Keith up on the dinner invitation. She could be with him right now in the dark corner of a romantic restaurant, eating bread dredged in herbs, oil, and vinegar and listening to his SEAL training stories. But no. She was stuck, cornered behind a ridiculous cherub fountain and topiary mermaid.

Seriously, a mermaid?

What was it with underwater explorers and their fascination with breasts and fins? The mermaid’s mammary glands were
huge
—not exactly streamlined like, say, a fish’s body. And don’t get her started on the fact that having breasts meant she’d be a
mammal
with a need to breathe air, like her dolphin and whale counterparts.

And everyone knew mermaids didn’t breathe air, ergo mermaids didn’t have double-D breasts.

She’d give anything to extract herself from this hidden corner. Unfortunately, Perry wasn’t getting the hint. He leaned into her, hints of his quiet inebriation in his bloodshot eyes and whiskey breath. “I’m giving a lecture at the American History Museum next weekend. If you’re interested in coming, I could arrange for you to receive a private tour of the collections in storage.” He reached out and took the end of her braid and twirled it between his fingers, making her wish she’d chosen to wear it up.

“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I interned at the Smithsonian in several different departments when I was in graduate school. I’ve not only seen the storage, I’ve cataloged and conserved various items.”