No Stranger to Scandal - By Rachel Bailey Page 0,50
one arm around Lucy’s waist, Hayden shut off the faucet in her bathroom’s oversize shower with an elbow and slumped against the wall, chest heaving. They’d made love in her bed, then he’d suggested a shower before they both went to work, but seeing Lucy’s water-slicked body had made the end result of that idea inevitable. It was probably a good thing their time together was only a fling—if this arrangement was permanent, it just might kill him.
Lucy looked up at him with a satisfied gaze. “Your imagination is a beautiful thing, Hayden Black.”
“I aim to please,” he said, grinning, and summoned the energy to step out of the shower. He passed a fluffy blue towel to Lucy, but regretted it when she patted herself down and wrapped it under her arms, tucking a corner in to keep it in place. He let out a resigned sigh. Damn shame to cover up a body like that.
She glanced over at him, one eyebrow arched. “Are you going to towel off, or are you trying the drip-dry method?”
“Just admiring the view,” he said, then ran the towel over himself till he was dry enough. “What have you got today?”
She walked through the connecting door to her bedroom and pulled pure-white underwear from a drawer. “More research into your background. Graham is going to run the exposé next week, whether I’ve got enough material or not.”
She dropped the towel and stepped into the white panties. Hayden swallowed. “Good luck.”
The idea of the exposé airing didn’t thrill him, but in his line of work, it was a cost of doing business. He had no deep, dark secrets, no skeletons in his closet. And if they made up stories, he’d deal with that when it happened.
“Give me some hints.” She’d put on the white lace bra and was sitting on a velvet-covered stool at her dressing table, brushing out her damp hair. “Did you cheat on a high-school history exam? Were you involved in a street brawl?”
“Okay.” The mirror on her dressing table showed another perspective of her movements, giving double the impact and mesmerizing him. “This is the one and only lead I’ll give you. I organized a boycott of the school cafeteria when I was a junior.”
Her eyes brightened and met his in the mirror. “A radical political statement? Please tell me you burned a flag.”
“Eight kids got food poisoning in the same week and no one would look into it. We boycotted until the school board sent someone in. They fired a couple of staff who weren’t following safety procedures and tightened up the practices.”
“Yeah, that’s just the kind of story we need,” she said, throwing him an ironic smile over her shoulder. “You’ll come off looking like a hero. Fighting for truth and justice since you were a kid.” Her words might have been flip, but her eyes shone with pride, and it made his chest swell a little.
He grinned. “Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it. Maybe I can find a different angle.” She crossed to her closet, took out a pale green blouse and slipped it on. “What are you doing today?”
He pulled on his trousers, then socks and shoes, giving himself a moment to decide how much to tell her. Lucy had proved herself trustworthy in this investigation several times, but this information was a whole new level—today he was going to a judge to get permission to perform surveillance on Angelica Pierce. The slightest slip to someone Lucy trusted, like Graham, who leaked it to Angelica, would make the whole exercise pointless.
She stepped into soft cream trousers and secured the buttons before resting her hands on her hips. “Some supersecret mission?” she teased.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw. “It might be better if I don’t tell you.”
“You’re joking, right?” she said, her voice incredulous. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me, even not telling Graham about Angelica being Madeline Burch. Why wouldn’t you trust me now?”
She was right, but this was different. “You’ve been great on this investigation. The difference is you’re helping out to try and clear Graham’s name. If it comes down to it, you’ll choose Graham over any other option.”
“Of course I’ll stand by Graham,” she said, her voice carefully controlled. “He’s innocent. Are you telling me you’ve got evidence on him?”
He shook his head, conceding her point. “No, but I don’t think it will be long. And if you had to choose between the truth and your stepfather, where would you stand,