6
This wasn’t the smartest move he’d ever made.
As Connor maneuvered the Taurus under the Golden Arches in the lot next door to STL Academy, he slanted a quick glance at Kate. He’d told her to dress for the weather, but he hadn’t expected a tank top that revealed such a wide expanse of creamy skin, a skirt that exposed a long length of shapely leg, and a ponytail that highlighted her classic profile.
If there’d been a collar on his T-shirt, he’d have been tempted to run his finger underneath to loosen it.
So much for staying cool on his end—and the sun hadn’t even peeked above the dawn-tinted horizon yet.
Focus on the job instead of the client, Sullivan.
Right.
He chose a parking spot that would give them both a view of the front door of the daycare center, positioning the car so he could lower his dark-tinted window and take quick shots of potential subjects. After he used the automatic controls to open the two backseat windows, Kate’s window, and the sunroof, he shut off the engine.
Despite the early hour, humid air flooded the car in seconds.
He sent her a rueful look. “Sorry. Doing surveillance in the heat—or cold—is one of the less glamorous aspects of being a PI.”
“It’s not too bad yet.” She regarded his window. “You’re leaving that closed?”
“To keep out prying eyes. I’ll lower it partway to take pictures—after the camera’s in front of my face.”
“Seems very clandestine.”
“Careful.”
She conceded his point with a bob of her head, then motioned to the fast-food restaurant off to the side behind them. “At least this lot was conveniently located for our purposes.”
“Yeah. I scoped the area out on my way home last night, and believe me, this is better than some of the places I’ve had to hole up.” Far better. He reached back, grabbed two cases from the backseat, and handed her one. “Binoculars. Go ahead and adjust them to your eyes.”
“There are a few cars pulling into the lot already.” She gestured toward the daycare center as she opened the case.
“That’s why I wanted to get here early.” He removed his own binoculars from the case, set them on the console between their seats, and reached into the back again for his camera.
She fitted the binoculars to her eyes as he took the digital camera out of its case, twisted on the 100–300 mm zoom, and verified that the glare filter was in place. The last thing he wanted was a beam of sunlight bouncing off the glass in the lens. A careless sniper could lose his life that way—and a PI could lose the tactical advantage of covert surveillance. Once you were made, the job got a whole lot harder.
Not going to happen on his watch.
“These are really powerful.” Kate lowered the binoculars and inspected the camera. “And that’s an impressive piece of equipment.”
“Let’s hope we need it.” He set it beside him. “Here’s how I’d like to work this. We’ll both watch the arrivals with our binoculars. If either of us has any suspicion a particular child might be the boy you saw, I’ll snap some shots. We can evaluate them later.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Then get set, because the rush is about to start.” He motioned toward the parking lot in front of the center, where cars were beginning to disgorge adults toting babies, toddlers, and young children.
Kate leaned forward, planted her right elbow on the dash, and angled sideways to aim the binoculars at the entrance. That posture was going to get old fast, and she’d end up with a crick in her neck, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He needed his window positioned for photography.
As silence fell in the car, Connor put his own binoculars to use and settled in for the duration of the rush period.
Ten minutes passed.
“Blond boy at seven o’clock.”
He felt Kate shift beside him as he spoke. “That’s not him.”
Several more minutes ticked by as the sun rose and the pink hue of the sky began to morph into blue.
“Another blond boy at eleven o’clock.” Kate’s tone was taut. “I’m waiting for him to move into a spot where I can see him better . . . he’s the right height, and . . . no. It’s not him.” Disappointment etched her voice. “Wrong hair color. And he’s heavier than the boy I saw.”
For the next hour and a half, as the sun continued to climb and sweat beaded on his forehead, Connor counted ten boys who could have been the youngster in the video grab. He would have taken photos of them all, except Kate was certain eight of the ten weren’t the boy she’d seen—and she was very skeptical about the other two.
As daycare traffic began to slow around seven-thirty, she set the binoculars in her lap, rotated her neck, and brushed back some strands of hair that were clinging to her forehead.
“How are you holding up?” He lowered his own binoculars and sized her up. The faint shadows under her eyes, hidden earlier in the dim morning light, told him she hadn’t slept well last night. Or, more likely, hadn’t slept well since she’d spotted the boy on Friday. Faint parallel lines scored her brow. The hair at her temples was damp, and the skin above the scooped neck of her top was glistening. His attention lingered there a moment too long before he snapped his gaze up. Thank goodness she was still focused on the daycare center.
“I’m fine. I just wish we had more to show for our efforts.”
He fumbled for the lid of the cooler on the floor behind her seat, pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to her. “He could be one of the later arrivals, depending on his parents’ work schedules.”
Bottle in hand, she gave the water a wary look. “I thought you said not to drink.”
“I said not to drink too much. You need to stay hydrated. Just pace yourself. We only have another hour and a half.” He pulled a bottle of water out for himself, twisted off the cap, and took a long chug.
After a brief hesitation, she did the same.
“Better?”
“Much.” She recapped the lid and set the bottle in the cup holder between them. “Another arrival.” Indicating the daycare center, she picked up her binoculars and went back to work.
By eight-thirty, the traffic had slowed to a trickle, and she once again sank back and took another long swig of water, the subtle slump of her shoulders communicating her dejection more eloquently than words.
Connor had never believed in creating false hope—but while her pessimism might be justified in a few days, he didn’t want her to give up yet.
“You know, it’s possible we have the right place but the wrong day.”
Her head swiveled toward him. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe the blond boy you saw at the mall only attends three days a week. Or his parents might have kept him home today for some reason. I’ll download the photos I took as soon as I get back to the office and send them to you, but even if neither boy is the one you saw, I don’t think we should give this up after one try. Depending on your budget, I’d like to try again tomorrow and Monday.”
“Money isn’t an issue. As I said before, John had a large insurance policy, and my expenses are minimal.” A tiny flicker of hope brightened her eyes, tempered by a hefty dose of caution. “After getting such a solid lead, I’d like to believe he’ll still show up. But do you really think there’s a chance he will . . . or are you just trying to let me down easy?”
He met her gaze straight on. “Letting people down easy is part of my job. Wasting clients’ money isn’t. If I thought this was over, I’d tell you. Our chances do diminish with every day that passes, but I’d prefer not to write this off yet.”
She gave a slow nod. “I appreciate your candor . . . and your willingness to continue. But I’ve got early meetings both days.”
“Not a problem. I’ll just take a lot more pictures—and suffer through the heat alone.”
“It is getting steamy, isn’t it?” She plucked at the fabric of her tank top, which was now clinging to her trim midriff.
Steamy was a good word.
“Another car.” She lifted her binoculars again.
Forcing himself to look away, he did the same.
“It’s a little girl.” Kate sank back on the seat. “And there’s no one else in sight.”
He kept the binoculars pressed to his face, buying himself a few more moments to regain control. Strange. He’d often dealt with beautiful women during his Secret Service career, and on occasion as a PI. Yet he’d never been tempted to cross the line between business and pleasure.
Until now.
The simple truth was, Kate Marshall intrigued him. She was a smart, determined, courageous woman with a generous heart. A survivor, with a gritty strength concealed beneath a deceptively fragile-looking exterior. From all indications, she’d also been a loving, loyal wife and a devoted mother who even now was fighting for her family despite enormous odds. She was the kind of woman who deserved to receive the same absolute commitment and priority she gave to the people and the responsibilities in her life.
And he could offer her those on the job.
He was also ready to offer them to the right woman on a personal level. Had been ready for quite a while, in fact—since Lisa had thrown him one of the biggest curves of his life and forced him to straighten out his own priorities.
Slowly he lowered the binoculars and turned to Kate.
She could be the right woman.
It was too soon to be thinking along those lines, though. He knew that. But one thing for sure—she was the first woman in five years who’d prompted him to even consider making the kind of commitment a serious relationship required.
When she looked over at him, he realized the silence between them had stretched too long.
“We’ll stick it out until nine, but it seems like most of the action is over.”
“Yeah.” She scanned the daycare center again, smothering a yawn. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was an early morning . . . and it sounds like you had a long day yesterday, if you were still at the office at six o’clock.”
She lifted one shoulder. “That’s par for the course for me. I expect you put in long hours too.”
“Not as long as in my previous job.”
She tilted her head. “May I ask how you happened to become a Secret Service agent? That’s an unusual occupation.”
“My older brother was a big influence.”
“Is he in law enforcement?”
“No. The Secret Service was always his goal, but he—” Connor swallowed. “He died when he was twenty. Leukemia.”
Sympathy flooded her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
He gave a stiff shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
“But a hurt like that never goes away.” Her voice was soft and tinged by a kindred sadness.
“No.” Nor the repercussions.
Time to change the subject. Opening up to virtual strangers wasn’t part of his DNA.
Yet the words that came out were still about Joe. “He would have been a great agent. As far back as I can remember, he was always rescuing hurt animals and protecting other kids—including me—from bullies. He was strong, but he had a gentle spirit and a passion for justice.” The last word rasped, and he stopped.
After a few moments, Kate spoke again. “Did you have any other siblings?”
“No.”
“That must have made the loss especially hard on you and your parents.”
“Yeah.” He could have left it at that. Didn’t. “Too hard.”
She loosened the cap on her water bottle. “What do you mean?”
Man, this was getting way too personal.
But still he continued.
“They couldn’t handle the loss. They blamed each other for not noticing the symptoms soon enough, for making bad decisions about treatment, for choosing the wrong doctors. They ended up divorcing when I was sixteen, a year after Joe died. The whole thing was very bitter. I divided my time between the two of them until I went away to college, but things were never the same.”
“And then you did what your brother had planned to do—you became a Secret Service agent.” Her words were soft, her expression pensive.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t living his dream, if that’s what you’re thinking. Once he planted the idea in my mind, it became my goal too.”
“I didn’t mean to imply it was vicarious. There’s nothing wrong with being inspired by other people or sharing dreams.” She lifted her hand, as if she intended to touch his arm, then drew it back and fiddled with the cap on the bottle instead. “So was being a Secret Service agent exciting?”
“More like high-stress and all-consuming. The glamor and excitement are vastly overrated.”
“How long did you stay?”
“Nine years.”
“I would guess that’s a career job for most people.” She studied him. “Did you enjoy it?”
Odd. No one had ever asked him that before. People always assumed he had. Who wouldn’t enjoy such an elite, high-profile job? Yet Kate had picked up some nuance others had missed—proving once again she was sharp.
He transferred his gaze back to the daycare center as he formulated a response. “It had its moments.”
“But not enough of them, or you’d still be there.”
He glanced back at her. “Putting your master’s in psychology to work?”
She arched an eyebrow. “You investigated my background?”
“Standard practice with new clients. We want to make sure our services aren’t being used for illegal purposes. You came out squeaky clean, by the way.”
“Nice to know. But you didn’t really answer my question.”
He added tenacious to her list of attributes as he framed his reply, choosing his words with care. “I liked the job—a lot. The first six years, I worked in field offices on a variety of assignments, from global credit card fraud to busting counterfeiting rings in Colombia and Peru. The last three years, I was on the vice president’s protective detail.”
“Impressive.”
“Also very demanding. The 24/7 schedule and constant, often spur-of-the-moment travel left no time for anything else.” He surveyed the daycare center again. All quiet. “One day I had an epiphany of sorts and decided to make some changes in my life—and in my priorities. Cal and Dev were ready to add a third partner . . . and the rest is history. Now why don’t you finish that water before you dehydrate?”
Picking up his own bottle, he hoped she’d get the hint and back off. He’d already told her more in five minutes than he told most people in five years.
Message received. After removing the cap, she tipped her head back and finished off the water, giving him a perfect view of the graceful line of her neck.
He gulped the rest of his, but the lukewarm liquid did nothing to cool him off.
This time he definitely intended to change the subject.
“So how come you worked late last night?”
Taking his cue, she gave him a recap of her late meeting, then answered his questions about New Start as their surveillance gig wound down and he drove her back to her office.
Once in the parking lot, he circled around to her car so she could retrieve her change of clothes.
“Thanks for letting me tag along.” She picked up her purse from the floor and dug her keys out.
“It was very helpful. I would have taken a lot more pictures—and wasted both our time reviewing them—if you hadn’t been there. Let me get the door for you.” He started to open his own door, but an impatient honk from behind stopped him.
Kate looked over her shoulder. “I think we’re blocking the way. I’ve got it.”
She slid out, then opened the back door and retrieved her daypack. “Will you email me the shots you took of the two boys, just in case?”
“Yes. As soon as I get back to the office. But I’m going to swing by my apartment and shower first.”
She sighed. “I wish I had time to do the same.”
Kate.
Shower.
He tried to erase that image from his mind as she closed the door and hurried toward the entrance, perky little skirt swishing, daypack slung over her shoulder.
The guy behind him honked again.
Yeah, yeah, he was leaving.
He put the car in gear and headed for the exit, casting one more look in the rearview mirror as she disappeared through the door—but he hoped not from his life, no matter the outcome of this case. Because he wanted to see a lot more of her. Any woman who could get him to open up as much as he had today had potential.
As for the attraction that was beginning to sizzle—on his end, anyway—that had potential as well. Lots of potential.
And if, by chance, it led to a more serious connection . . . he’d learned his lesson.
This time, he wasn’t going to blow it.
That was as good as it was going to get.
Expelling a frustrated breath, Kate gave her hair one final brush and stepped back from the mirror in the ladies’ room. The car had been a lot hotter and stickier than she’d expected, considering the early hour. Too bad she couldn’t have rescheduled her ten o’clock client meeting and run home for a shower, as Connor had.
Connor.
Shower.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Frowning, she shoved the brush back into her daypack and yanked the zipper closed. What was wrong with her these days? A new romance wasn’t on her agenda—now, or perhaps ever. She still loved John. Would always love him.
Yet something strange had happened in Connor’s car this morning. The air had practically sizzled—and not because of the hot weather. Maybe it was the intimacy of the confined space. Or the quiet dawn hours that seemed to foster the sharing of secrets.
Or it might have been the man himself.
She leaned against the counter, rubbed at the twin lines above her nose, and faced the truth.
It was curtain number three.
Connor Sullivan rocked.
The man had been impressive in his jacket, tie, and crisp shirt on Monday at the office, radiating competence, confidence, and professionalism—not to mention good looks. He’d been no less professional today, even if he’d exchanged the more formal attire for a black T-shirt that hugged his broad chest and a pair of worn jeans that sat low on his lean hips and hugged his long, muscular legs. But he’d also exuded an appealing masculinity that had sent a tingle of adrenaline surging through her—and given her the courage to ask questions about his background that were none of her business. Questions that had taken him off guard. Questions he hadn’t necessarily liked.
But he’d answered them . . . and Connor Sullivan didn’t strike her as a man who did anything he didn’t want to do.
So why had he responded?
Was it because he, too, had felt that sizzle of attraction?
Yes.
Even as the definitive answer echoed in her mind, her stomach fluttered.
Not good.
How could she feel attracted to another man if she still loved her husband?
When the answer proved elusive, she began to pace in the tiny ladies’ room. Fortunately, the problem shouldn’t be an immediate issue. From what she’d observed, Connor wasn’t the type to let his emotions rule while working a case. He was too professional for that. This was a man who’d guarded the vice president. You didn’t get handed that kind of responsibility without being disciplined, focused, and—in keeping with the Secret Service motto—worthy of trust and confidence. He’d toe the line while the case was active.
But if he’d felt the zip of electricity in the car this morning as strongly as she had, once their professional relationship was over, that same focused discipline might be redirected toward her.
Oh, man.
She stopped pacing and pressed her forehead against the cold tile above the light switch.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to cool her down.
A knock sounded inches from her ear, and she jerked back, heart hammering as she flipped the lock and pulled the door open.
Pauline stood on the other side, her expression quizzical. “Are you all right? You’ve been in here awhile.”
“Yes.” Her cheeks warmed as she held up the daypack. “Sorry for the delay. I had to clean up and change clothes.”
“I know. I saw you dash in here fifteen minutes ago. Are you sure you feel all right? You have circles under your eyes and you’re a little flushed.”
“I’m fine.” When another volunteer passed by and gave her a curious look too, she took Pauline’s arm and guided her toward her office. This was why she kept her personal life to herself at work. If people knew too much, the staff gossiped and things got messy. At least Pauline was discreet.
Once inside, Kate shut the door. “My PI had a lead on the little boy, and I went with him to do some surveillance early this morning. I didn’t sleep well, and I’ve been up since four-thirty. Plus, we were in a car without air-conditioning.”
“Ah. That would explain why you seem a bit discombobulated. Any success?”
“No.” She already knew neither of the youngsters Connor had photographed was the boy she’d seen at the mall. “But he’s going to go back for a couple more days.”
“Are you tagging along again?”
“Can’t. I have meetings.” She stowed her daypack in the credenza behind her desk. “He’ll take photos of anyone who resembles the boy and run them by me.”
Pauline perched on the edge of her desk. “So now that you’ve spent some extended time with this man, what do you think of him?”
She lifted one shoulder in what she hoped came across as nonchalance. “He’s very nice. Empathetic, strong communication skills, an excellent listener. And he has a remarkable ability to instill trust and confidence. I suppose that could be a result of his training, but I have a feeling it’s innate. He’s one of those people who makes a very strong impression and is hard to forget, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do.” Pauline’s eyes twinkled. “To be honest, I was looking more for a professional evaluation. But this was much more enlightening. I take it the man’s not married?”
Once more, heat flooded Kate’s cheeks. “No—but don’t get any ideas, Pauline.”
“Like what?”
Kate massaged the bridge of her nose. “Look, I know what you’re thinking. And yes, Connor Sullivan is an attractive, appealing man. But my heart still belongs to John. He was the love of a lifetime—and a woman doesn’t get that lucky twice.”
“Don’t be too sure. My sister married again several years after she was widowed, and both her husbands were wonderful men who claimed their own spot in her heart, neither taking anything away from the other. She never thought she’d find love a second time, either.”
“But I’m not in the market for a second marriage.”
“Neither was she. That’s how it happens sometimes. We have one plan for our life, but God often has another.”
“Not this time, Pauline. I still love John.”
“And you always will. But the ache does ease in time. You can trust me on that.” She crossed to the door and grasped the knob. “I don’t know how the story that began last Friday in the mall will end, but even if the door closes on finding that boy, perhaps God’s opened a window. Think about it.”
As Pauline exited, Kate moved behind her desk and sank into her chair. She had only a few minutes before her client arrived, and she needed to prep, not ponder Pauline’s comment.
But even with the file in front of her, she couldn’t concentrate.
Was the older woman right? Could this whole sequence of events be leading her not to Kevin but to a new direction in her life?
Her stomach rumbled, and she pressed a hand against it. She’d had no appetite in the wee hours of the morning, and Connor hadn’t suggested stopping for breakfast on the way back to the office. Maybe she could scrounge up some food in the break room, if their receptionist had brought in one of the home-baked treats she liked to share with the volunteers and staff.
She rose and headed down the hall. A quick bite would take the edge off her physical hunger.
But it wasn’t going to do a thing to fill the empty spot in her heart that now ached with a different kind of hunger, thanks to a tall, handsome PI who’d stirred up a yearning that would be far more difficult to satisfy.