No Stranger to Scandal - By Rachel Bailey Page 0,27
temples throbbed. In truth, things had left his area of expertise some time ago.
He looked down at her blond head leaning against the white door and cursed himself. He liked Lucy and he’d never forgive himself if he let her walk out of here hurt.
“You said you’d help with the investigation,” he said slowly. “That won’t happen if you walk out that door now.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears then turned to look up at him with a wobbly smile. “Things are fine between us.”
Cupping her shoulders to steady them both, he peered into her eyes, seeking evidence that she was telling the truth. “You’re sure?”
She shot him a rueful look. “One hundred percent.”
“Prove it.” He stepped back, letting her go if she wanted, hoping like all hell she didn’t. If she slipped through that door, she’d take all the warmth from the room with her.
She didn’t leave, instead eyeing him warily. “How do you suppose I prove it?”
“Have a normal conversation with me. You have to give evidence to Congress tomorrow—you need to be in top form for that. We should discuss it.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll be all right. I’ll stick to the truth and we won’t have any trouble,” she said, repeating his words from their first meeting with a small smile.
He let out a relieved breath. “That’s always a good policy.”
“Will you be there?”
“At the back of the room, so you probably won’t see me. I’ll give you a call in the afternoon.”
“Talk to you then,” she said, and this time when she opened the door and slipped out, he let her go despite the pressure in his chest.
* * *
Lucy stepped into a cab and gave the driver the address of the ANS offices. She’d just finished giving evidence to the congressional hearing and was exhausted and needed a muffin, preferably chocolate chip, but Graham would be waiting to hear how it went. She sat back in the seat and leaned her head back, the questions they’d asked and her answers rolling around in her head.
One question in particular kept repeating.
“Have you heard the name Nancy Marlin?”
She’d said no, but the name kept coming back into her mind, as if there was a memory just out of reach. She closed her eyes, let out a long breath and tried to clear her mind of everything except the name.
It hovered, she could almost see it...then she plucked it from her memory. Her eyes popped open and she grabbed her cell, dialing Hayden’s number on instinct.
“You did well,” he said when he picked up.
She almost smiled at the warm approval in his voice but stopped herself in time—the time had come for emotional distance from Hayden Black. It should have been a priority last night—no, from day one—but it was even more important since they’d made love. Sleeping with him while she was working on Graham’s exposé had been a monumental mistake. It was likely that Hayden would find the person behind the phone hacking before Graham set an air date on the exposé, but if Hayden found out in the meantime that she’d worked on it even after they made love, he’d have a right to feel betrayed. He’d find the culprit in time, she had no doubt. And in the meantime, emotional distance was the key. She set her shoulders.
“Where are you now?” she asked as she checked out the window for her own location.
“In the corridor outside Senator Tate’s office.”
“I’ve remembered something else.”
His voice immediately changed, became 100-percent business. “I’ll meet you at my hotel in fifteen.”
She pictured his hotel room as it had been last night—strewn with their clothes, their naked bodies sprawled on the sofa. The blood in her veins began to heat. Then she remembered how she’d left and her blood went ice-cold. Maybe she shouldn’t have called him now.
“Lucy?”
No, she’d done the right thing to call. Hayden was the investigator for Congress—the exact person she should tell. They just had to meet somewhere private that wasn’t his hotel.
“My place has muffins, let’s meet there,” she said.
“My hotel. I’ll pick up muffins on the way,” he said and disconnected.
* * *
When Hayden arrived at his suite, Lucy was already there, looking as she had on the screen when he’d watched her give evidence—conservative mint-green dress, her hair scraped back and pinned at the nape of her neck. And now, as then when he’d seen her, his pulse galloped along like a wild horse with no intention of being tamed.
He