He blinked and went so still she thought he’d stopped breathing. His voice had been deep with passion. Now it was full of something different. “Do yawantto be somethin’ else?”
Here was her chance. She could tell him everything. Tell him how much she loved him. How much she dreamed of building a life with him. How much she wanted to spend each and every day waking up to him in the morning and lying beside him at night.
But what good would that do her?
He didn’t feel the same. He’dneverfeel the same. He’d made that abundantly clear. And so…she lied.
“No.” She shook her head.
Something flickered behind his eyes. Something that made her want to grab his cheeks and force him to look at her so she could study it. But he pushed himself off her and stood beside the bed with his hands on his hips.
His hair was wild and wavy from her fingers. His full mouth was blushed red from her kisses. And the evidence of his desire was starkly outlined against the fly of jeans.
He looked likemanpersonified.Sexpersonified. And it took everything she had not to pull him back on top of her…screw the consequences and screw that screaming voice of reason.
He made a face of misery before reaching down to adjust himself.
The sight of his long, tan fingers curling around the length of his erection was so erotic she felt her womb contract. And his utter lack of self-consciousness shocked her when he said, “Alrighty. I reckon I better head next door to take care of this myself, then. Ya want me to call in one of the others to come sit with ya ’til ya fall asleep?”
The prim and proper lady she’d been raised to be tried to make her blush bashfully. But the wanton woman he’d awoken in her responded in kind. “No. I need to take care of some business myself.”
14
Northwestern Memorial Hospital
A paper cup of vending machine coffee steamed between Julia’s hands. She’d yet to take a sip. Even though she needed the caffeine—this long night was growing longer by the minute—she knew the stuff would taste like swill.
She was a bit of a coffee snob. Espresso machine at home. Peet’s Coffee if she was out and about.
But beggars can’t be choosers.
“They said his heart gave out. That the trauma of the bullet wound and the subsequent surgery was just too much for him.”
Bethany Chastain still wore her cocktail dress. It was one of those matronly numbers, emerald green, long-sleeved, and form-fitting without being revealing. At one point, it’d probably looked elegant and festive. Now, stained with blood and frayed at one seam, it just seemed sad and macabre.
Of course, most things in an ICU waiting room seemed sad and macabre, even when they weren’t damaged or bloodstained.
“ButI’mthe one with the bad heart,” the senator continued, her voice hoarse from the tears she’d shed over her dead husband, tears that’d left trails in her makeup. Senator Chastain didn’t look a day over fifty and Julia gave silent kudos to the woman’s plastic surgeon. “Bill had the heart of racehorse and the blood pressure of an Olympian,” she insisted. “I just can’t…”
She shook her head and glanced forlornly at the glass door leading to the hallway. It looked like she hoped a doctor would come in and tell her it’d all been a giant misunderstanding. That Professor Chastainwasn’tdead. That she hadn’t lost her husband of forty years.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Senator,” Julia said quietly. “And I can assure you, Agent Douglas and I are doing everything we can to figure out exactly what happened tonight and why.”
Dillan took that as his cue to interject. “Did the chef appear agitated or otherwise out of sorts to you, Senator?”
Bethany Chastain blinked uncomprehendingly, and Julia took a hasty swig of the scalding-hot, bitter-has-hell coffee to keep from saying,Duh, Dillan. The man went on a murder spree. Of course he appeared agitated.
“You mean while he was spraying bullets around the patio?” the senator scoffed and then spoke Julia’s own thoughts out loud. “Yes. He appeared agitated.”
“You had no contact with himbeforehe came onto the patio?” Dillan persisted.
Senator Chastain hadn’t exactly been slouching. Years spent in front of reporters and having to present a strong, confident façade to her constituents meant she had near perfect posture. But her shoulders had been drooping. Now she straightened them.
“What are you implying? That I make a habit of sculking around my host’s kitchen?” Her keen gaze narrowed as she turned from Dillan to Julia and back again. “Or thatIam under suspicion here? Do you think I had something to do with tonight’s?—”
“Not at all, Senator,” Julia was quick to cut the woman off. She didn’t like the deep flush that stole up the senator’s chest and neck. “We’ve just learned some interesting information about the suspect and?—”
“He isn’t asuspect,” Senator Chastain said with a snarl as she shoved to a stand. “He’s amurderer.Anassassin.” Her voice rose as she began to pace angrily around the room. “And I wish he was still alive so I could kill him myself!”
