Midnight Heat Page 6

  “Okay. But that still leaves a caller who knows something we don’t. Something he doesn’t want anyone else to know. Something he thinks you already know and doesn’t want to have spread around. To me, or anyone else.”

  “All I know,” she said quietly, “is that there was a third plane. It was in exactly the right position to be involved in the collision. I can’t think of anything else that someone would warn me about discussing.”

  Dane stiffened. “That third plane had to have had a pilot.”

  Adria’s eyes widened. “Who would be solely responsible for almost killing several hundred people.”

  Dane swore under his breath. “Which makes you the perfect fall guy.”

  She nodded in understanding. “If the controller is proven negligent, no one would ever suspect the third pilot’s culpability. Case closed. Question is,” she went on, “why warn me? It just gives credibility to my story that there was something else going on in the sky that night.”

  Dane shook his head. “No, the question is: Who knows that you think something else is going on?” He smacked the table with his palm, making Adria jump. He didn’t apologize. When he leaned forward, his eyes were almost glowing. “I’ve got to get my hands on that missing fuselage. If there was a third plane involved, he had two wings clipped. There has to be some evidence of that on the ground.”

  Adria gripped her cup so hard she thought it might crack. She peeled her hands off it and forced them into her lap. He believed her. Or as close as she was likely to get from him without concrete evidence. She closed her eyes for a second, sending up a quick prayer that the missing fuselage would be found and this whole horrible mess would be over soon.

  “Adria?”

  Her eyes blinked open. How did he do that? Infuse such intensity into one tiny word? That the tiny word was her name just amplified the effect on her.

  “Yes?”

  “You need to get some rest. Why don’t I get out of here? I’ll call you as soon as anything is reported from the field.” He clicked his briefcase shut and shoved his chair back.

  No. Adria was half out of her chair, leaning over the table to stop him. “Wait.”

  He froze, his gaze fastened on where her hand was gripping his wrist. As if his attention to that area had thrown on a power switch, Adria was immediately aware of the feel of his skin and muscle under her fingers. Without intention, her fingertips exerted additional pressure. His pulse leaped under her touch.

  The combination of feeling him hot and alive under her fingers and watching emotions spark just as hot and alive in his eyes made her tremble.

  The silence spun out; her will to move was nonexistent. The air between them charged up so fast that when Dane began to slide his gaze slowly from her hand up along her arm, she half expected to see a trail of fire. By the time he lifted his eyes to hers, she was not only trembling, she was burning up.

  In less than thirty seconds, she’d felt as if he’d scented her, hunted her down, and trapped her. With nothing more than the beat of his pulse and those electrifying eyes of his.

  Which made no sense. She was holding him.

  “What?” he asked finally.

  The question jerked her back to sanity. She let go of his arm. But he was quicker. He flipped his hand over and captured her wrist, his grip not painful, but inescapable.

  “What do you want, Adria?”

  What do I want? “Ask me something easy,” she said shakily.

  Without letting her go, he set his briefcase down and walked around the table toward her. Adria was trying hard not to let her sudden inability to breathe be too obvious. He stepped closer. She swallowed hard.

  He raised his free hand and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. At the same time his thumb made slow circles on the inside of the wrist. She felt terribly unnerved. And unbelievably aroused.

  “Why are you shaking?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “Not an easy question either?” He reached for another strand of hair, but this time he let it slide through his fingers. “It can’t be that I’m frightening you. I don’t think anything frightens you. Not truly.”

  That’s where you’re wrong, she wanted to say. But the words were stuck deep in her throat. That he might continue this slow, intoxicating interrogation frightened her. But far more frightening, was the thought that he might stop at any second and walk away.

  He ran a fingertip across the tender skin beneath her eyes. “You’re not sleeping enough.”

  Right now she would settle for breathing. She wanted him to let her go. And yet she was the one who’d asked him not to go.

  What did she want from him? His help? Yes. His expertise as an investigator? Yes.

  To touch his face as he was touching hers? Oh, yes.

  “Adria.” This time her name was half warning, half groan.

  Her gaze had become instantly riveted to his lips when he spoke. To feel that mouth on her? Is that what she wanted?

  God, yes.

  “This isn’t smart,” he said, moving closer still. “I should be in my car, heading home.” She gasped when his knees brushed her legs. “Right now.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Right now.”

  He let his hand drift to her chin, tilting it up slightly. “It wouldn’t help. I don’t sleep either.” He broke off, then went on, his voice nothing more than a rough whisper. “You torture me in my dreams, did you know that?”

  She gasped, then a tiny moan escaped her lips. She pressed her knees tightly together as a curling knot of sweet pain clutched hard between her thighs.

  “And then I lie awake all night wondering things.” He looked at her mouth with hunger so clear. “What does your mouth taste like, Adria?”

  She shook her head slightly.

  “Is that, ‘No, you don’t know’? Or, ‘No, don’t find out’?” He rubbed his thumb over her lip. “I’m an investigator, Adria. That’s what I do.” He leaned down, his breath warmed her lips. “Investigate.”

  Just when she thought he’d end her agony and kiss her, he lifted his head slightly.

  The tiniest of twinkles flickered in his eyes. “May I?”

  “You’d better,” she answered hoarsely.

  He slid one hand to cup the side of her face as he pulled her wrist up and placed her palm on his chest. He held it there, letting his heartbeat pulse heavily against her fingertips.

  He dropped a torturously light kiss on her lips. “Remember,” he warned. “I’m very thorough.”

  “God, I hope so,” she breathed. Then slid her hand up into his hair and pulled his head down to meet hers.

  Dane let her take his mouth. The sweet pressure of her lips as she took control almost robbed him of what little was left of his. She angled his head to one side and entered his mouth with her tongue, the action so slow and sinuous he had to make a concentrated effort not to lower her to the table right then and there.

  He settled for tugging her closer, sliding his hands around to her backside and cupping her tight up between his legs. She was sweet and so hot and he …

  He was losing his mind, that’s what he was doing.

  Instincts honed over too many years of keeping his emotions locked away took over. He held her hips and pushed her away gently.

  She looked up at him, her eyes all dreamy and clouded with desire. “You’re right, you know,” she said, her voice delectably hoarse.

  He’d all but begged to kiss her, then had stopped her. He’d expected her to be hurt or angry or both. God knows he wanted to rant and scream. “About what?” he asked, wondering why he still expected to be able to second-guess her. He should know better.

  “To stop this.”

  Dane curled his fingers into his palm against the need to pull her back into his arms. “Maybe so,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

  She took a half step away. “What we want isn’t always good for us.”

  “Adria.”

  She’d started to turn away, but stopped when he
said her name. She looked back at him, her eyebrows lifted in question, as if she didn’t trust herself to speak.

  That he sensed no regret in her relieved him. “That’s the problem. It would be good. Damn good. And we both know it.”

  Dane watched as she banked the emotions that were always so clear in her expression. From the moment he’d met her, he’d felt she was too open. It was dangerous to be read so easily. He could never have survived like that. How had she? But now, when she worked to hide her feelings, it perversely angered him.

  He thought she was about to say something, but she just shook her head, then turned to the table and cleared their mugs.

  Dane knew he should pick up his briefcase and get the hell out of her kitchen. Out of her house. Out of her personal life.

  It was the only logical, rational thing to do considering she was under investigation. An investigation being run by him. And though he was beginning to believe something else might have happened in the sky that night, that didn’t automatically clear her name. He’d make damn sure he followed every available path and lead he had to its conclusion, but there could be no allowances made, no room for bias. For, or against.

  He should push his growing personal involvement aside for now, then follow up on it after the case was over. But what if the final facts in the case didn’t clear her? Proved her negligent? Cost her her job?

  He might lose any chance he might have had with her.

  Logical. Rational.

  He ran his investigations that way. His career had flourished conducted under that code.

  Only now did Dane realize that not only had his cold, unemotional approach adversely affected his private life, it had completely taken over. Until there were no personal aspects to his life.

  He looked at Adria as she stood in front of the sink rinsing the dishes. The way his body tightened instantly, the things just looking at her made him feel—there was nothing logical, rational, or unemotional about them.

  And he had absolutely no desire to change that.

  He shut down logic as he crossed the room, not stopping until he was right behind her. He turned her around, took her face in his hands, and then, just as deliberately, took her mouth with his.

  He invaded her with his tongue, tasting all of her. He slanted her head and coaxed her tongue into his mouth until their kiss was no longer give or take but an equal sharing.

  They were both breathing hard when he finally pulled his mouth from hers. He tugged her against his chest and was filled with an absurd need to pump his fist and shout when she willingly curved into him.

  He realized then that he’d been wrong to assume the battle he waged had been with her. All along, it had been with himself.

  “I know what your mouth tastes like now, Adria. And I know I want more.” He acted on his words with another kiss—brief but drugging in its intensity.

  “I don’t seem to be able to do what’s best for me for any length of time,” she said. “But if you’re not the best thing for me, then I’ll console myself with the fact that you’re probably going to be the best worst thing I’ve ever gotten myself into.”

  Dane’s lips quirked. Adria reached up to place her forefingers on the corners of his mouth. She pushed. “But if I’m going to fall off the good-girl wagon, then you have to give too. I want to see you smile.”

  “I smile,” he said in his defense, still rebelling against the idea that he’d become that rigid.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  He bared his tightly clenched teeth. “How’s that?” he asked.

  “Oh, much better,” she said with mock solemnity, then giggled.

  At the delicious sound, he finally broke into a true grin. She choked, then gasped.

  His smile disappeared. “What?” He’d been caught off guard by the depth of pleasure their teasing brought him. Now he suddenly felt horribly self-conscious.

  “I was right,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

  Feeling more awkward by the moment and really not liking it, he battled his curiosity. And lost. “About what?” he asked warily, certain he was going to like her answer even less.

  “Your smile. Oh my God, Dane,” she said, “do you have any idea what it does to your face?”

  Right now he was pretty damn sure his face was burning red. “No,” he said.

  “Good. Then do me a favor, okay?”

  “Anything if it means we can stop this ridiculous conversation.”

  The trace of vulnerability that entered her blue eyes tugged at him. “Smile only for me.” He was surprised by the almost shy request, but before he could comment, she pulled his head down close to hers and whispered heatedly, “And only when we’re alone.”

  Her hoarse plea twisted the ache in his groin into an even tighter knot. It was as if she held his emotions on marionette strings and yanked them at will. But instead of angering him, it made him want to—

  Dane slowly tested his grin out on her again.

  Her response was a deep, appreciative sigh that ended on a soft moan. “Yeah, just like that.”

  He wondered who was getting more pleasure out of this, knowing it couldn’t possibly be her. “Any other requests?”

  “Yeah. Shut up and kiss me.”

  With pleasure, he thought, his lips already on hers. She let her tongue slide languidly into his mouth. With great pleasure, he amended.

  The trilling of his beeper startled both of them. He couldn’t have said who moved more quickly out of the other’s embrace. They’d both reacted like guilty schoolchildren caught kissing under the bleachers. It spoke volumes about how little a role reality had just played in their little interlude. It was obvious they’d both been a little carried away, that neither of them was prepared to deal with the consequences of getting involved.

  Adria rushed back to the sink and began wiping down the basin and counter. Both of which were already spotless.

  Cursing under his breath, he glared down at the number flashing on his pager. “Who the hell is calling me now?”

  Adria stepped toward the door. “There’s a phone on the wall over the counter.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I thought you might like some privacy.”

  What he would like was very private. And it had nothing to do with the phone. But all he told Adria was “Thank you.”

  She nodded and was gone.

  Because he wanted to rip the phone from the wall and send it flying, he purposely lifted the receiver gently and punched each number with controlled precision.

  Barely ten minutes had passed since he’d given in to his personal wants, his own desires. Something he hadn’t done since … Hell. He couldn’t recall a single time.

  He simply wasn’t cut out for mixing personal with professional. But when he was with Adria, he couldn’t keep the two separated.

  Dane raked his hand through his hair as the phone on the other end rang repeatedly in his ear. “You’d better pick up,” he said.

  The ringing stopped as the call was answered. “Eliot.”

  “Colbourne.”

  “Good, glad I caught you,” Eliot said. “You left instructions to be notified immediately if we got anything.”

  “And?” Adrenaline kicked in, the sweet rush bringing relief at being back in familiar territory.

  “We got a call from some guy out in Indian Head about ten minutes ago. He’s been out of town on business and came home early this morning to discover some fuselage in his front yard, caught up in some trees on his property. He called Metro and they connected him to us.”

  “I’ll meet you out there.” Dane made a mental note of the directions and hung up.

  “Good news?”

  Dane turned to find Adria in the doorway. His gut instinct was to play this one close to the vest. Too much had happened between them too quickly. The phone call was a much-needed wake-up call. It was time to step back a little.

  Adria moved into the room. She must have sensed his w
ithdrawal because she stopped beside the table. “That’s okay, I understand,” she said.

  Dane had a sudden urge to tell her it was anything but okay. All he wanted to do was hold her and she stood there trying to be so reasonable.

  “I have to go.” He closed the distance between them, but only to grab his briefcase. He didn’t dare take that last step to her. “You’ll be okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You could always check into a hotel for a while.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s almost morning anyway.” She paused. “Thanks for coming over.”

  This was all wrong, he thought, even as his mind fought to regain its usual detachment. He managed a short nod, then left.

  SIX

  Dane wished he had grabbed some breakfast on the way to his office after another long night spent at the warehouse the fuselage pieces were stored in. Putting them together wasn’t nearly as complex as putting together the jagged remains of an entire plane, but it had still been a challenging jigsaw puzzle. To his dismay, every last scrap they’d recovered belonged to either the Liberty or the AirWest planes.

  Most of his time last week had been spent on computers, where, with the help of a team of other professionals, he had recreated the flight paths of the two planes. He had covered each aspect of the mishap, anything and everything that could disprove that the two planes had hit each other.

  He didn’t come up with one shred of proof. All he had was a few crank phone calls and Adria’s conviction that she was telling the truth.

  He hadn’t heard from her, so he assumed she hadn’t gotten any more disturbing calls. But it had taken an enormous amount of discipline not to check up on that fact personally, telling himself that his time was better spent—for both of them—working on the facts of the case and letting Adria take care of herself.

  His phone rang; another annoying sound adding to the pounding inside his skull. This time Dane welcomed the intrusion.

  “Colbourne.”

  “How you coming with that report on the Metro mishap?” It was Forster, his boss.