So far, he hadn’t acted on his attraction to a woman he considered a friend. They’d been working together for a while now, often alongside Trace, most recently providing security for an expedition into Mexico led by Edge’s brother, Gage.
Edge inwardly smiled.
Rising from his chair, he walked over to Skye’s desk to invite her to join them, just as a friend, of course. At five-foot-five, she was ten inches shorter than his own six-three, with a sexy figure despite her slender, lean-muscled body.
With her smooth, slightly sun-bronzed skin and perfect features, the lady was drop-dead gorgeous. Being former army, she was disciplined and always in control. Her stiff-spined military posture, even her softly curling, mahogany-brown hair, pulled ruthlessly back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck, seemed to send a warning not to get too close.
More and more, it was a challenge Edge wanted to accept.
Unfortunately, since they worked together, it wasn’t a good idea to pursue any sort of relationship, and he knew Skye didn’t want that either.
As he approached her desk, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t miss the change in Skye’s body language, her growing tension as the conversation continued.
“Are you sure this isn’t something she’ll eventually outgrow?”
Edge couldn’t hear the reply, but Skye’s shoulders tensed even more.
“I admit that doesn’t sound good,” she said. “I’ll check into it for you, see what I can find out. How long has it been since you’ve heard from her?”
Skye’s fingers tightened around the phone. “That definitely isn’t good news. All right, then, I’ll stop by in the morning around nine. Try not to worry, okay?” Skye ended the call and set the cell phone back down on her desk.
“Problem?” Edge asked.
“That was my stepmother. Margaret’s afraid her daughter, my half-sister, Callie, is in trouble.”
Callie was an only child from Skye’s father’s second marriage, Edge recalled. “What kind of trouble?” he asked.
“Margaret says Callie got interested in the teachings of a church out in Chaffee County. It’s called the Children of the Sun and it’s some kind of commune. Margaret says it’s more a cult than a church, and she’s afraid something bad might have happened to Callie. She hasn’t heard from her in nearly two months.”
“Callie’s young, right?”
“Not quite twenty-one. She dropped out of college last year and took a job as a server in a café called the Hummingbird, down in the LoDo district, but she quit that, too. I guess she met this minister in the café, and he convinced her to visit for a few days to check out the compound where he preaches. A few days turned into a few weeks and now nearly two months.”
“I think her mom has a right to be worried.”
“Maybe. Callie’s always been irresponsible. She and her mother don’t get along very well, and ever since my dad died, she’s been acting out.”
“So what’s your plan?” Edge asked.
“I want to talk to Margaret, see what information I can get, then I’m driving out to Blancha Springs. The compound is a few miles out of town.”
“That’s a helluva drive. At least three hours from the city, out in the middle of nowhere. If there’s a problem, you might need backup. How about I go with you?”
Skye opened her mouth to say no. Clearly, she didn’t want him going along. Edge had a hunch she felt the same attraction he did but was determined to ignore it.
“We’re friends, Skye. Be smart. Let me go with you—at least until you know what you’re facing.”
Skye released a slow breath. “You could be right. If you’re sure you have time, I’ll meet you here at eight tomorrow morning, and we’ll drive over to my stepmother’s house. I’ll know more after I talk to her.”
“I’ll be here. In the meantime, you want to go with Trace and me over to the Goat for a beer?”
Skye shook her head. A few stands of dark silky hair had managed to escape and slide tantalizingly across her cheek. Edge wanted to pull off the elastic band and run his fingers through the heavy mass, spread it out around that pretty face. His blood headed south.Damn.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass,” Skye said. “I’ve still got some work to do. Thanks anyway.”
“Next time.” Edge ignored a sliver of disappointment. Catching up with Trace, he grabbed his black leather jacket off the back of his chair, shrugged it on, and walked out of the office.
Today’s late September weather was windy, the temperature cool, but the sky was clear, the high mountain peaks surrounding Denver tipped with the first light flutters of snow. Edge and Trace headed over to the Fainting Goat, which was already packed, and had a burger and a couple of beers; then Edge headed home.
