Nothing to Fear (15 page)

“So you were going to have your way with me and dump me,” he said thickly.

“No.” The word emerged a harsh whisper. “I was going to have my way with you and then you were going to go home. No harm, no foul. No strings.”

Color rose in his cheeks and his breathing quickened. “What changed your mind?”

Dana rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s dumb.”

“Try me,” he drawled, settling his fists on his hips. The pose revealed exactly how much her words had bothered him and she crossed her arms to keep her hands under control.

“You’re a nice guy.”

His brows shot to the top of his forehead. “That’s it?”

She scowled. “You’re a nice guy and a war he-ro.”

His lips twitched now and she wished he’d be angry. “So you’d have a fling with a cowardly bastard over me?”

When he said it that way she wanted to sink into a hole. “I told you it was dumb.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth. “No, I think it’s pretty remarkable, actually. Dana, you said something tonight that really struck home. That the survivor feels a heightened sense of responsibility. Do you know what Richard and I were talking about right before we hit that mine? Marriage. Specifically his success and my failure.”

“You said your ex-wife was only halfway to Y,” Dana murmured.

“Jill’s a wonderful woman. We just got married for the wrong reasons. Richard was married to Brenda and Stan had just married Randi. I felt . . . out of the loop. So I went out and found a wife. Trouble is, I didn’t take the time to fall in love first and I guess she didn’t either. I knew it was a big mistake from day one. Jill and I started to drift apart the day we got back from our honeymoon and being stationed on two different continents didn’t help.”

“She was a Marine then.”

“She’s a Navy pilot.” Pride was in his voice and Dana felt a twinge of envy. His first wife had a valiant career and he thought she slaved herself into poverty over a damn photography business. “About a year into the marriage, she called and told me she’d met someone else. It was almost a relief. I wished her well and that was that.”

“Is she happy?”

His face softened for a moment. “Yeah, she is. And I’m happy for her. While we were married, I never strayed, but after the divorce . . .” He shrugged. “I guess I made up for some lost time. I was careful, but I was not Mr. Commitment. Richard had just arrived on base a few weeks before and was . . .” He frowned. “Disappointed in me. Gave me hell. Told me I’d been wandering long enough, that it was time to buckle down, start a family.” He blinked hard. “Leave a legacy,” he said unsteadily. “It was the last thing he said to me.”

The sheen in his eyes made her falter all over again. “Final words like that are hard to live up to,” she said softly.

“So I’ve found. I stopped wandering, Dana. I started waiting for someone special.”

Panic began to well in her chest. “You can’t think I’m special,” she said. “I’m not.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you aren’t. But I’d sure as hell like to find out.” He shot her a hard look. “Wouldn’t you? Can you tell me you don’t feel it when I touch you?”

“That’s just lust, Ethan. I still have priorities and you still live somewhere else.”

“Details, Dana. In the grand scheme of life, your business and my residency are just details.” She said nothing and he sighed. “It’s late and we’re both tired. Why don’t we just . . . see where this goes? Meet me for breakfast and we’ll talk some more.” He slid his fingertip down her cheek. “Look at the bright side,” he said huskily. “Maybe you’ll get to know me better and find I really am a bastard and find your way clear to have a fling with me.”

Dana found her lips curving. “Breakfast is only a few hours away.”

“So use it to get some sleep. Meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at seven-thirty. You can go on to work from there.” He bent at the knees, catching her gaze. “Well?”

She blew out a sigh. “All right.”

Relief was clear in his green eyes. “Good.” He hesitated, then grasped her jaws gently and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good night. Lock the door behind me.”

“I will.” She did, then fell against the door, her pulse thrumming through her body. What had she done? Agreeing to meet him again. It would only make it harder to say good-bye.

But what if she didn’t have to say good-bye? Caroline’s words still echoed in her mind. What if she wasn’t the director of Hanover House anymore? Didn’t she deserve a life, too?

She glanced at the floor of her living room, with its carpet purposefully set askew. Then looked at her hands. And remembered. Ethan still felt his guilt after two years. She felt hers after twelve. This was her life. And there was no place for Ethan Buchanan in it.

She waited fifteen minutes, then left her apartment, locking the three deadbolts behind her. She hated sleeping in her apartment where dreams were a sure occurrence. She’d sleep at Hanover House tonight. Besides, she had a new client to see to.

Chapter Eight

Chicago, Monday, August 2, 7:25 A.M.

Sitting in the booth at Betty’s coffee shop, Ethan was both weary and energized at the same time. The hours between leaving Dana’s apartment until seven that morning had finally yielded some results. He’d returned to the security office, refreshed and ready to go again, and after more hours of tape, he’d spotted Alec, just for an instant.

Clay answered on the first ring of his cell phone. “Did you find him on the tape?”

“Yeah. Alec wasn’t on the Thursday night bus from Indy to Chicago, which is where I’d been looking, but I found him getting off the Friday morning bus.”

Clay blew out a sigh. “Thank God. It was a long night here. Randi needs to talk to you.”

“Ethan, you saw him?” Randi’s voice was shaky. “Please say he’s all right.”

Ethan visualized Randi sitting next to Clay all night, waiting for his cell to ring, and his heart clenched for her. “Randi, I only caught a glimpse of them on the platform camera getting off the bus last Friday. Alec was groggy, but he didn’t appear to be hurt.”

There was a tortured sob. “Ethan, promise me you’ll keep looking until you find him.”

Her heartache broke his own heart. “Go rest, Randi. I’ll keep looking for your son.”

Clay took the phone. “Hold on, I need to move.” A minute later he was back. “I went outside so we can talk,” he said. “Randi followed me all night. She’s a wreck.”

“I saw him for just a few seconds, Clay. He looked like he’d been drugged.”

“You’d think someone would find a twelve-year-old staggering around suspicious.”

Ethan sighed. “Hell, three-quarters of the people walking around the bus terminal look drugged. Especially after the all-night routes. Alec didn’t stand out all that much. Now the bad news is that after I caught them on the platform getting off the bus, they disappeared into the crowd. I checked the lobby and terminal tapes, but can’t find them.”

“How long have you been watching tape, Ethan?”

Ethan shrugged, glanced at his watch. It was just a few minutes till seven-thirty. He let his eyes settle on the door. She’d be here any minute. “Probably fourteen of the last eighteen. I did sleep a few hours, so don’t ask.” And he had taken a few hours to rest his eyes and eat dinner with Dana Dupinsky. Those hours had been more refreshing than sleep.

“I need to come out and help you look at those tapes.”

“I’m getting ready to let you. I can’t watch more than a few hours at a time without a break. My eyes start to twitch. I watched from two-thirty to seven, but I had to break again. And until she sends another e-mail, this is the only lead we’ve got.”

“I could get a flight out and be there by lunch.”

“You could, but somebody needs to be there to run a trace in case this woman calls.”

“All right.” Clay didn’t sound too happy about the prospect. “Oh, I dug a little on your security guy, Bush. He was a good cop. He might make a good local ally.”

“Good. I thought as much.” Ethan straightened when the bell on the coffee shop door jingled. His heart got its second wind when Dana walked through the door, perfectly punctual. Perfectly . . . perfect. “I need to go now. Call me if you need me.”

“Ethan, wait. I’m not done yet. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He was. He was better than fine, just seeing her, just being under the same roof. Once again he felt rejuvenated, his blood rushing harder, his head clearer. She was scanning the coffeehouse, looking for him, her body tall and straight and strong and for a crazy moment he was reminded of the scene in The Natural when seeing Glenn Close stand up in the crowd gave Robert Redford the magic he needed to hit the ball out of the park. Dana was that for him now, and right now, he thought he could do anything. Right now, even finding Alec seemed a little more possible.

Mindlessly he was on his feet. “My breakfast is here, Clay.” And my lunch and my dinner, he thought. She was like . . . sustenance. “I have to go.”

“You can talk to me while you eat,” Clay said, exasperated.

Ethan could tell the very moment she saw him. “Is whatever you have to say about Alec?” he asked as she started toward him, her eyes now locked on his. His lungs paused midbreath, like an elevator stuck between floors. Like last night when he’d seen her across the terminal. Like the morning before when she’d first looked into his eyes.

“No, it’s about Stetson.” Their newest client. “We have to decide what we’re going to tell them if you don’t finish their network this week. We could be in breach of contract.”

“Clay, I promise I’ll call you back later and we’ll talk about all the clients. In an hour. Let me know if anything happens with Alec. Bye.” He cut off Clay’s frustrated shout, dropped his cell phone in his pocket, and stretched his hand toward her, waiting. She was dressed much as she had been six hours before, a fresh sleeveless polo shirt hugging breasts any man would consider a gift, yet another simple cotton skirt showing off legs that seemed to go on forever. Ethan’s mouth very nearly watered at the sight of her. His body had responded at the first jingle of the doorbell. It was Pavlovian, but he didn’t care.

Heads turned as she passed, but she didn’t notice. Her brown eyes were on his and she didn’t falter. Without hesitation she took his hand and it was the same as before. The jolt, the flash of awareness. Her other hand lifted to his face, her fingertips brushing against the stubble of his cheek. Her eyes narrowed, not in suspicion, but in concern.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and once again they’d achieved that connection, that sense that they’d been together always. “You didn’t go back to your hotel and sleep, did you?”

The denial on his lips disappeared. “I’ve had some bad news from home.”

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted the hand he held to his lips, pressed a kiss to her palm. Watched her concerned eyes heat, the pulse at the hollow of her throat quicken, her breasts rise and fall at the rapid intake of her breath. Then glanced over at the counter to where Betty stood, once again agog. “We’d better sit down. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for Betty’s fourth commitment of the year.”

“I’m sure she’d go with a smile on her face.”

They sat, their hands joining across the table. Ethan ran his thumbs over her knuckles, wishing he’d done more than kiss her forehead the night before, but at the same time was glad he had not. He was learning her, a little at a time. Giving her time to learn him.

She lifted a russet brow. “So are you going to buy me breakfast or not?”

“I don’t know. Does it win me more nice guy points?”

“And if it does?”

“Then you’re on your own. I can’t afford any more points in the nice guy column.”

She grinned at that and Ethan shifted on the bench seat. He’d been aroused the moment she walked through the door, but seeing that lush mouth smile got him harder than a spike. “Duly noted, Mr. Buchanan.” She waved Betty over and ordered eggs and bacon for them both, then grew serious once they were alone again. “This bad news from home . . . is it your family?”

“Close enough. It’s Richard’s family actually. They’re all I have left now.”

“You said you grew up with your grandmother. She’s no longer alive?”

“No. She died a year after I got out of the Academy.”

“So why were you living with your grandmother? Where were your parents?”

“My mother died when I was seven. My dad was on a submarine somewhere in the North Atlantic. It was more than a month before he could get home so Gran took me in.”

Her eyes widened again, this time with horror as she thought about a small boy dealing with the grief of losing his mother all alone. “That’s terrible.”

Again the shrug, more defensive this time. “My dad did the best he could. He was on a nuclear sub and it was the Cold War. They couldn’t just pop up and let him off at the nearest bus stop.” He’d become annoyed, which wasn’t her intent.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t referring to the military or your father. Just you as a little boy. You must have been so scared and alone.”

He drew a deep breath that visibly strained the buttons of his shirt. “I didn’t mean to get upset.” His eyes focused on her face in speculation. “I never have before.”

“Never?”

Ethan considered the question carefully. “Well, not about my father.”

Betty appeared and slid their breakfasts to the table. “You need anything else, just shout,” she said and walked away, looking over her shoulder all the while.

Dana waited until she was gone. “So your father never made you angry.” She said it like she didn’t quite believe it. “And other things? What things do make you angry?”

It was a heavy question, one that deserved a thoughtful answer. He looked up from his eggs. “You’re sure you don’t want to know my sign, phone number, or my favorite color?”

Her lips curved. “Not really, but if that’s what you’d like to tell me, that’s what I’ll take.”

His gaze dropped to those full lips and once again wondered how they would feel against his. Then he lifted his eyes to find hers warm and aware and suddenly her question didn’t seem so hard after all. “Leo,               202-555-8943       , and blue. People who drive slow in the fast lane, people who don’t stand for the flag, and people who hurt little kids.”