Midnight Heat Read online

  “I’m saying that if there is something else going on here that I don’t know about that could adversely affect my career, then my loyalties may alter.” Oh, how her ex-husband would love this, she thought disgustedly. Make them believe they were getting something while promising nothing. Serve only your best interests and everyone else be damned. She thought she might be sick.

  “I’d have to have something more concrete than that to go on before I told you anything,” the reporter replied carefully.

  Adria expected nothing less. But she wasn’t just going to hand out information. All she had to do was figure out what she could give the woman without jeopardizing her situation or Dane’s investigation. She didn’t want to risk tipping anyone off about the third plane while Dane was still actively trying to find proof of its existence.

  “Why don’t we meet?” Adria suggested. “I’d feel better about this if we were face-to-face.” It took some further convincing, but when the woman realized it was the only way Adria would talk, she finally agreed.

  “There’s a playground on Stratford, do you know it?” Adria asked, thinking quickly, figuring no one there would pay attention to two women chatting in the shade.

  It wasn’t until she’d given directions and hung up that she realized how easily—naturally—she’d thought of Dane as her partner in this, not as an adversary.

  The idea alarmed her more than it reassured her.

  Now the question was, should she tell him about this meeting before? Or after? Her first instinct was to wait until after. That way she could defuse his anger—and she had no doubt he’d be angry, whether he let it show or not—with whatever information she was able to get. But her second instinct told her that her rationale was just a cover for fear.

  She scooped up the phone and punched in Dane’s number.

  She’d stopped playing the coward five years ago. She’d managed to handle the Predator so far, she wasn’t about to give away her edge now.

  What in the hell was he doing hiding behind an overgrown jungle gym? Dane still hadn’t quite figured out how Adria had conned him into this. One minute he’d been arguing with his superior, Roy Forster, who was riding him harder than usual to get his preliminary report in, the next he’d been sideswiped by a very feminine, very excited voice on the other line, explaining why he had to come to a meeting she’d set up with a reporter. At a playground, of all places.

  Dane pulled at his shirt collar as sweat mixed with the heavy starch, making his skin itch. It was blazing hot out here. He’d given up trying to blend in thirty minutes ago. He was certain at least two mothers already thought he was some sort of pervert and wouldn’t be surprised if several more were contacting the authorities on the portable phones in their minivans as they drove home.

  He pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his forehead. He tortured himself with images of his air-conditioned office and an ice-cold can of Coke. He was missing lunch for this. Not that the cellophane-wrapped sandwich he’d have likely bought from the vending machine was a great loss.

  Dane peered through the wooden slats of the jungle gym. They were still talking. What had Adria gotten herself into? And why was he standing here letting her get into it? She could be destroying the whole investigation.

  She wasn’t stupid, far from it, but he wouldn’t put it past the reporter to somehow get her to slip up. He groaned, picturing the headlines if that third-plane scenario leaked out. His boss would have his ass in a sling by nightfall if Adria’s story ever hit the papers.

  Tension tightening the base of his scalp, he looked away, just in time to glare at a small boy who had been ready to drop a fistful of gravel on top of his head. The boy hurried on to some other unsuspecting target.

  Dane couldn’t recall ever being with so many kids at one time. Children weren’t something he thought about often, if ever. His thoughts turned to his sister Dara and Zach. He wondered if they planned on having a family. It was a subject he’d never talked about. Not with Dara, Jarrett, or Zach. Why did that seem so strange now?

  His lips twitching a little, he watched a mom whoosh down a slide with a giggling toddler trapped between her thighs. Dara was great with kids, her job a testimony to that. And Zach would make a good father. If Dara ever let him actually hold one. Zach’s job as owner of an outfitting service that catered to thrill seekers would have Dara gray long before her time, he was sure. But their kids would be in heaven.

  The image of several towheaded kids romping around Zach’s big country house played through his mind. He felt … he wasn’t sure. Melancholy. He frowned, then purposely shook off the whole disturbing thing and looked down at his watch.

  Adria’s time was up. He didn’t care what she said, he was taking over. And no matter what, that reporter wouldn’t be leaving here with any information.

  He stepped out from behind the wooden tower. The table Adria and the reporter had been sitting at was empty. “What …?”

  “Looking for me?”

  He swung around to find Adria standing in front of him. She looked remarkably cool in her lemon-colored blouse and pleated khaki shorts. Her fresh-as-a-daisy appeal only darkened his mood.

  “I thought we agreed you trusted me to handle this.” The disappointment he felt shouldn’t be personal. But it was. “What in the hell are you doing talking to a reporter?”

  If Adria was surprised by his outburst, she didn’t show it. She took his arm and pulled him away from the play area. “Watch your language,” she admonished.

  Dane grunted, shocked at how close to the surface his emotions were. He didn’t examine too closely exactly what those emotions were. “I’m sure these little monsters could teach me words I’ve never heard before.”

  She dropped his arm, and smiled at him. “My, my, a bit grouchy, are we?”

  “I’m hot, I’m hungry, and I should be at my office getting some real work done.” He glared at her. “I’m not grouchy.”

  She laughed.

  It was an amazing thing. Her laugh. All light and airy. Her lips opened wide to reveal pretty white teeth. There was even a freckle or two on her nose.

  She looked as if she belonged here, at this playground. With kids. Her own kids.

  He didn’t. He was a “tin-kicker.” A man who spent too much time sorting through twisted metal looking for the cause of horrific devastation. Never had he imagined himself having a family of his own.

  That he was now, with her, didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

  “Did you find out anything?” he asked as they stepped onto the gravel parking lot. He was determined to stick to the matter at hand.

  “Not much. Mostly I figured out what she doesn’t know. Which is a lot.”

  “What did you have to give up to find out she knows nothing?” His tone was sarcastic. He doubled his effort at regaining his calm, detached perspective.

  “I told her that I’d been reprimanded twice already and that I was a bit more worried than I had let on.”

  Dane went on full alert. This was something he hadn’t questioned her about, as it didn’t pertain to his specific investigation thus far. But there was no denying he was curious about why she’d taken two reprimands lying down. The Adria Burke he was coming to know didn’t take anything lying down.

  “Your work history is a matter of record for anyone wanting to find out,” he said carefully. “She could have gotten that on her own.”

  Adria smiled. Only this time there was nothing light or airy about it. It was smug and confident. And sexy as hell. “Yeah, but she took it anyway.”

  He found himself leaning closer to her, even though he had no trouble hearing what she was saying over the shrieks of the children.

  She stared up into his eyes, and the silence spun out between them. After what seemed like an eternity, she stepped away, the movement casual.

  At that moment Dane was quite sure he could spend hours simply watching her move, talk, walk. Anything. Everything. With great determ
ination, and not a little irritation, he again found himself having to force his mind back to the matter at hand. “And what’s to keep her from blabbing that all over the papers? Surely she didn’t just spill everything because you played the poor defenseless employee?”

  All amusement fled her face, leaving it empty and austere. “I’m better at playing defenseless than you might imagine. I had years of practice.”

  Before he could even open his mouth, not that he knew what he’d have said, she went on. “She obviously knew I was the suspended controller when she called. You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you I didn’t give away anything. You’ll also have to trust me that I don’t think her source is from my end. Mark Beck is the only one, except you and the pilots, who knows about the third plane.”

  “And what makes you so sure it wasn’t Beck who talked?”

  She faced him squarely, her hands on her hips. “Because he’s a walking, talking regulations manual. And because he’s almost as much of a tight-ass as you are. Hard as that is to believe.”

  She stalked off toward a small turquoise-colored sedan, opened the door, and got in. Dane managed to get to her car before she pulled out. He rapped once on the roof and motioned for her to lower the window.

  She resisted for a moment, then did as he asked, lowering all four windows. Heat rolled out in a wave over him, but it was nothing, Dane thought, compared with the heat that rolled through him whenever he was around her.

  “Yes?” she said.

  “We aren’t done discussing this yet.”

  “No,” she corrected him calmly. “You aren’t done discussing this. Frankly, I’ve had about all the subterfuge, interrogation, and doubt I’m willing to take for one day. If you want to talk about this any further, call me when you think you’re up to doing it without all the attitude.”

  She started to roll her window up, but Dane placed his hand over the edge. He was almost certain he was about to have his fingers smashed, but he stubbornly held on. In the end, she finally relented.

  His jaw tightly clenched, he leaned down and brought his face level with hers. “I’m not doubting your word. It’s just that I never take anything at face value. It’s what makes me good at what I do.” It was a fact, not a boast. “If you want to make sure you keep your job, then you have to work with me. And when you work with me, you play it my way. When I want your help, I’ll ask for it. No more meetings with reporters.” She opened her mouth, but he leaned a bit closer. “And no more running away the minute things get tough.”

  She didn’t appear the least offended, or intimidated, though he’d used his very best—and always effective—“take no prisoners” tone.

  “Yeah, well, that was always my problem, Colbourne.”

  “What? Running?”

  “No. Staying through the tough part and only realizing afterward that I should have run.”

  Dane watched in silence as she drove away.

  FOUR

  Dane let his finger fall away from the doorbell, deciding a sharp knock would be better. His uncustomary hesitation had him pounding more forcefully than necessary on her door.

  He’d managed to go almost forty-eight hours without giving in to his need to see her again. Of course, this visit was entirely business-related. Just as the reprieve had been necessary so that he could examine and analyze additional information before confronting her again. So what if this was a bit outside usual investigation protocol? With Adria Burke, outside of protocol was fast becoming standard operating procedure. A good investigator was flexible.

  So why did it feel that by coming here—coming to her—he’d lost a battle?

  And he never kidded himself. He was a sore loser.

  The door swung open just as he was getting ready to pound on it again.

  Adria, dressed in white denim cutoffs and what had to be the world’s oldest Redskins jersey, ducked quickly, then straightened. “Why do I get the feeling you wish my reflexes were slower?”

  Before he could respond, or apologize for almost smashing her nose, she stepped back and waved him inside.

  “Actually,” she said, closing the door behind him. “I’m glad you’re here. I was planning to call you today anyway.”

  I’m glad you’re here? After that scene in the playground parking lot, Dane had expected her to be the one to come out swinging.

  He followed her inside, purposely keeping his eyes on her back. There was no protocol that covered what to do with legs like hers. He decided he could easily fill a manual on the subject.

  Grateful for the distraction of the decor in the living room, he moved to the mantel that framed a small stone fireplace to examine the wing prop displayed there. It was an original, beautifully handcrafted out of wood, the surface hand-oiled.

  “Remarkable workmanship.”

  “My grandfather’s,” she responded. “The prop I mean, not the workmanship. It’s from his first private plane, a—”

  “Piper Cub,” Dane broke in. “Nineteen thirty-nine or about, right?”

  She smiled. “Right.”

  Dane examined it more closely. “Progress is a great thing, but you just don’t see craftsmanship like this anymore.”

  Adria moved to his side. “I know. It’s almost like art.”

  “Is that why you have it? In that condition I imagine it’s worth a penny or two.”

  “If you mean do I get aesthetic pleasure from looking at it, then the answer is yes, I do. But I own it because it is a piece of my heritage. I could care less what it’s worth on the open market. I would never sell it.”

  Dane didn’t doubt her passion for her family, like her passion for aviation, was honest and strong.

  He thought of his own father. Of the plane crash that had taken his life. For the first time he desperately wished he had a piece of that plane. One more mangled piece of history to add to his heap, he told himself, trying to ignore the hollow feeling inside his chest.

  He moved to the end of the mantel and picked up a square piece of wood on which another blade had been mounted. This one was about six inches tall and polished to a shiny silver. There was a rather wicked prong sticking out from the side.

  “That’s a propeller fin,” she said.

  “From inside the compressor section of a jet engine. I have one very similar to it. Of course, mine’s a little worse for the wear. It was one of the few recognizable pieces left after a crash I investigated about five years ago. And even then it took some imagination to figure out what it was.”

  Dane kicked himself for saying anything. Why had he opened himself that way? And if what he did for a living repulsed her, why should he care? But he did.

  He turned to her to gauge her reaction. Plain to see, on her face, was simple understanding. She stepped closer and he saw more—interest, along with a healthy dose of curiosity. And she was making no effort to hide any of it.

  She nodded to the propeller blade. “That was actually an award given to my father after he averted what could have been a major air disaster. He saved it from going to your collection, I guess.” She smiled. “I’ll show you the rest of mine, if you show me yours.”

  Something hot and heavy punched him low in the gut. Right at that moment Dane couldn’t think of one thing he’d like better than to play show-and-tell with Adria Burke.

  Again, he’d been in her presence for all of five minutes and he’d lost his professional edge. If he’d ever truly had one around her. He cleared his throat as he set the fin down and stepped away. “Perhaps some other time,” he said, hating the stiffness of his tone, even though he’d intended it.

  Her smile faded, but the curiosity in her gaze remained. He didn’t think she was still thinking about their respective collections either.

  Dane fought the urge to fidget with his tie. He never fidgeted.

  “Would you like something to drink? Iced tea?”

  “Coke,” they said simultaneously. She laughed.

  Dane wanted to groan. “That would be fine.
Thanks.”

  He sat on the couch and straightened his tie. Twice.

  Adria pulled two glasses down from the cabinet and held one of them against her forehead. The man had presence all right. She’d spent time with him in two small, airless rooms and held her own. Now she was in a big, airy house—her house—and he seemed more imposing than ever.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she muttered under her breath. What in the hell had she been thinking?

  She knew what he’d been thinking. And she found herself not minding it all that much. In fact—

  Adria quickly filled the glasses with ice and Coke, took a deep, steadying breath. Think about how you’re going to explain last night’s phone call, she ordered herself, and not the fact that the four-poster bed you’ve pictured him looming over—naked—is right upstairs. She groaned. Not picturing Dane Colbourne naked. Talk about mission impossible.

  “Here we go,” she said a bit too brightly as she entered the small living room.

  He stood and took the glass she extended to him. “Thanks.”

  They both sat down, he on the couch, she several feet away on a bentwood rocker. Any safety she’d felt with the small distance evaporated when he pinned her with that gaze of his.

  “What did you want to see me about?” she asked quickly, deciding to let him go first. “Did you find out anything on who’s talking to the Post?”

  Dane shook his head. “Nothing on that.”

  “Anything on the third plane?” She hated the obvious thread of hope in her voice, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Again, Dane shook his head.

  Frustration snapped and unraveled inside her like old elastic. Adria bounced up and immediately began pacing. “But the primary was there. It had to be on the tapes.” She was talking to herself more than to Dane. She’d barely slept since the incident.

  She turned again to Dane. “Is there any way the tapes could have been tampered with?”

  He stared at her with something that remotely resembled disappointment. So she turned and paced back to the fireplace rather than look at him.