Midnight Heat Page 7

  Dane didn’t mistake the command for a question. Forster had been an air-force colonel, but Dane wasn’t sure anybody had told him that he was retired. Forster barked out orders and expected complete and swift obedience as if he was still in uniform.

  Dane was half-surprised Forster didn’t wear his silver eagle on his lapel.

  “It’s coming along,” he said, knowing the vague answer was not what Forster wanted to hear. It certainly wasn’t usual for Dane. Ambiguity was simply not characteristic of him.

  “You’ve still got that Cairo incident on your desk as well as that mishap out in Seattle,” he reminded Dane unnecessarily.

  “I’m aware of that, sir. I’ve been putting time in on those as well.” The only thing he hadn’t put any time into lately was sleeping.

  “I’d like to turn this one over to the FAA ASAP,” Forster said. “So wrap it up.”

  “I still have a number of details to clear up before I can complete my report.” Dane supposed it wasn’t totally out of line to be getting pressure so soon. His preliminary report did make it appear as if the case would be open-and-shut. So why were his instincts clamoring?

  “I want it on my desk before the week is out, Colbourne.”

  The sense of unease grew, but all he said was, “Yes, sir.”

  Dane hung up, then downed his entire Coke. “Time’s running out, Adria,” he muttered.

  He stared at the open file in front of him, then at the stack of files sitting on the corner of his desk. “One more time,” he told himself. Maybe this time he’d find something. The one clue he could take to this boss and use as a bargaining chip to continue the investigation.

  Before he could reach for his pen, the phone rang again.

  What now? He grabbed the receiver. “Colbourne.”

  “Dane?”

  He immediately sat up straight. “Adria?” He realized instantly just how foolish he’d been to believe that distance and time had put his involvement with her back into the proper perspective. “What’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think something’s wrong?” A bit sharply, she added, “I could just be calling to find out if any of the fuselage you found didn’t match the AirWest or the Liberty.”

  “How did you find out about the fuselage?” Before she could answer, he said, “Never mind, I can guess. Our friendly reporter put another update in the paper.” He’d been so absorbed in trying to uncover proof, he hadn’t paid close attention to the media coverage.

  It didn’t take much to figure out that the man who’d found the parts on his lawn might have contacted the papers. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the six o’clock news,” he muttered.

  “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. There was a report on the eleven o’clock news last night from Indian Head, where the fuselage was found. I noticed something during the telecast that didn’t seem right. It wasn’t until this morning that it clicked. But I’m not sure I should say anything more over the phone.”

  Dane blew out an impatient breath. He wasn’t sure why he was getting angry. Her motivation in calling was clearly professional, as it should be. So why was he mad and utterly disappointed?

  “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got a pile of folders on my desk, my boss breathing down my neck, and an open file that is begging to be shut. If you have anything concrete that can keep it open, tell me now.”

  Her tone turned to ice. “You’re not the only one with problems, Dane Colbourne. You’ll have to excuse me for thinking you wanted to find out the truth about what really happened up there that night. I’m telling you I have information. I don’t want to discuss details over the phone. Do you want to talk to me or do I call Sarah Greene and take this up with her?”

  “Don’t talk to anyone but me,” he said immediately.

  “Don’t order me around,” she countered. “I’m calling you as an investigator, not because of what happened—” She broke off; he heard her take a breath. “Okay, bottom line. I’m attracted to you. We kissed. I, uh …” She faltered again. “You know I liked it.”

  Dane shifted on his seat. “You know I did too.” The words out before he had decided to say them.

  There was a pause, then she said, “You obviously haven’t let that affect your investigation.” Dane had to work harder than ever to keep from correcting her. He wanted it to be the truth as badly as she apparently did.

  “And I agree it shouldn’t,” she went on.

  “Name a time and place and I’ll be there.” He instantaneously realized it was the best and worst thing he could have done. Just don’t let it be your house, he prayed. He’d run that gauntlet once; he knew better than to risk it again. “Anywhere but a playground,” he added.

  Adria leaned on the hood of her car and watched through the trees as the 727 lifted into the air; the roar as it went directly overhead vibrated her bones. It was as close to feeling like home as she’d felt in two weeks now.

  A crunching sound signaled that a car had just pulled off the rarely used service road onto the gravel lot where she was parked. She saw Dane climbing out of a nondescript sedan that had government issue stamped all over it. He, and not the government, probably owned it.

  Keep it light, she schooled herself. Cool. Professional.

  Her fingertips pressed hard against the hood of her car. She didn’t feel the least cool. And her thoughts as she watched him close the distance between them didn’t even have a passing acquaintance with professional. An entire week’s worth of tough decision making flew right out the window.

  He looked good. The wind ruffled his hair, making her wonder what he’d look like in tight jeans and a body-hugging T-shirt. Not that his suit and starched white shirt didn’t play up his beautiful face just as well.

  That phone call had been hard enough. And she’d had only his deep voice to deal with. This might just kill her.

  Reminding herself to keep it light, she asked, “Did you actually make payments on that thing?”

  Dane’s expression showed confusion, so she nodded to the car.

  “So sporty and what a hot color. Gray.” She smiled when he frowned. He was so easy to tease. Watch it, Adria. Even loose and light was getting her hormones into trouble. Cool and professional would have to do. Now, if she could only remember what that was.

  “You don’t exactly drive an Indy car yourself,” he said in a flat voice, indicating her practical sedan.

  “Yeah, but at least turquoise shows some style, some flash.”

  “I guess I’m not a stylish, flashy kind of guy.”

  Adria’s smile faltered. She bit down hard on the words that almost escaped: What kind of guy are you, exactly? She didn’t have to ask. She already knew. He was obsessive about his job, a workaholic who was so involved in what he did for a living he didn’t even have a clue about doing anything that could be construed as fun or relaxing.

  And he was a guy who had made a science out of giving the perfect kiss. When had he found the time to learn that? she wondered.

  Suddenly uncomfortable at the silence between them, Adria hopped off her car and reached inside the open passenger window. “I figured you hadn’t eaten, so I sprang for lunch.”

  “That wasn’t necessary.”

  “It’s only fast food,” she tossed back over her shoulder as she grabbed the white bags and drink tray. Carefully balancing her load, she turned to find Dane right behind her. As he took the drink tray from her she said, “Don’t tell me you don’t eat fast food. I figured you probably lived on the stuff.”

  His expression had gone from emotionless to strained. “Worse. Vending-machine food.”

  She made a face. “You’re right, that is worse.” The tension was almost palpable. If he didn’t look so remote, so contained, she might have thought this was as difficult for him as it was for her.

  Adria headed to the closer of the two picnic tables set up on the grass strip beyond the gravel lot. “I would have made something at home, but I figured if I was late, you’d lea
ve.”

  He sat opposite her and started unloading bags.

  Realizing she was babbling, but unable to stop in the face of his stony silence, she said, “It’s all cheeseburgers, everyone eats those, and fries.” She unwedged the largest of the two drinks and set it in front of Dane. “High octane, just the way you like it.”

  “Thanks,” he said, still unsmiling, but made no move to eat.

  Adria kept talking as she unwrapped and depickled her burger. “My dad used to bring me here all the time. We’d watch the planes take off and eat a picnic while he told me stories.”

  She looked up at Dane and realized she couldn’t eat a bite. Not with him just sitting there and staring at her. Was his slip of control that night in her kitchen bothering him so badly? Did he expect some sort of statement from her that she didn’t expect it to happen again? “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  Bad choice of words, she realized immediately. This time she was sure she heard him groan, even though he muffled it behind his tightly clenched jaw. And then he pinned her with “the look.”

  How did the man shift from impersonality to intimacy so swiftly? And thoroughly?

  Adria tried not to squirm in her seat.

  After several knee-quivering moments she finally tore her gaze away and scooped up her burger. She’d eat the whole thing even if she had to choke down each bite. The burger was halfway to her mouth when he spoke.

  “I would have waited.”

  Her throat went dry. “What?”

  “For you. I would have waited.”

  Adria couldn’t say whose cheeks warmed first. They both looked away as the moment spun out and the air between them practically vibrated. If she hadn’t been so unnerved, she would have laughed at the way they both simultaneously attacked their food like starving children.

  Minutes later, the sounds of another takeoff echoing distantly, Adria decided the safest—not to mention smartes—thing to do would be to get to business. “I was watching the eleven o’clock news the evening after you left,” she began. She kept her eyes on her fries, drawing patterns in the ketchup she’d poured onto the burger wrapper. “They had a live remote from that guy’s front yard. I noticed there were people roaming over his property. He seemed pretty isolated out there, so I knew it wasn’t neighbors. I figured it was other media and maybe some of your guys still poking around.”

  “You figured right. I had men out there for three days. A lot of the fuselage was high up in the trees, so we brought in cherry pickers.”

  “It all looked normal, but something kept bothering me, something that wasn’t right with this picture. Then I noticed Sarah Greene.”

  Dane seemed to tense a bit at the name, but all he said was, “That wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. She was probably there to interview the man for a follow-up story in the Post.”

  “Exactly what I figured. But the feeling stayed anyway.” She shrugged. “I didn’t put it together until this morning when I got a phone call from her.” Adria leaned forward, her fries forgotten. “It hit me the moment I heard her voice. She wasn’t hanging back with the media types milling about, she was behind the taped-off area with the crew.”

  Dane shook his head. “You must be mistaken. No way would any of my team let an unauthorized person in to wander around an evidence site.”

  “Well, I hate to be the one to break this to you. But she was there.”

  Dane seemed to ignore this and asked, “What did she want when she called?”

  “She asked if I’d heard anything more on the investigation, asked if I knew when the report would be filed. She even hinted that she suspected I had an inside track.”

  This time Dane looked surprised. “What exactly did she say?”

  “It wasn’t what she said, more like how she said it. Intimating things.” Adria shrugged. “I can’t explain, but I got the distinct impression she suspected I knew more than I was letting on. Do you think she knows about us?” The minute the question left her lips Adria wished it back. His attitude made it more than clear there was no “us.” She waited for him to point out that embarrassing fact.

  He surprised her. “I can’t see how,” he answered, his tone completely matter-of-fact.

  A little thrill shot through her. She knew she shouldn’t, but being an “us” with this man would thrill any woman. She was only human.

  “I hope you didn’t let anything slip.”

  Well, maybe not any woman, she corrected silently as she glared at him. “Of course not. I told her the truth. I hadn’t heard from anyone connected with the investigation in several days, since before the discovery of the fuselage.” She narrowed her gaze. “I told her she probably knew more about that than I did.”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up,” he said, half under his breath.

  Adria wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “My hopes up? I’m a grown woman, Dane. Don’t go trying to protect me from the big bad world. Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of it.”

  Interest sparked in his eyes. “That’s the second or third time you’ve said something like that,” he said. He studied his french fries as if expecting them to perform some sort of trick. “I know this isn’t any of my business, but—”

  He’s embarrassed, she thought. That he was clearly reticent about asking her to talk perversely made her want to tell him everything.

  “I’m divorced,” she said bluntly.

  He looked up, and the interest she found there wasn’t simply physical. It was personal. He didn’t just want her, he wanted to know her.

  “You probably have that in your file on me.” A little nervous again, she took a steadying breath. “But what that file doesn’t tell you is that my ex-husband, Tony Harris, was a controlling, manipulative man whom I allowed to run roughshod over me for six years.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone controlling you.”

  Adria smiled. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Now I know what your mouth tastes like, Adria. And I want more. “One of them anyway.” Images of him kissing her again, putting his hands on her, his mouth on her—

  “What made you finally leave him?”

  “My job,” she choked out. Clearing her throat, she went on. “Tony didn’t mind my indulging my love of flying in long chats with my father and grandfather. But he drew the line at letting his wife actually fly herself.”

  “Do you?”

  Pride swelled in her. Flying was the one thing outside of her job she’d made time for. “I do now. Soloed for the first time last year.”

  Dane’s mouth kicked up the tiniest bit and Adria’s heart skipped a beat at the threat. Dear Lord, don’t smile at me now. “But that was just the beginning. Gramps died just before we were married, but I saw my dad often. He loved his job as a controller almost as much as he did flying. I was fascinated.”

  “I take it Tony didn’t share your fascination.”

  “Not hardly. He was an attorney and proud of the fact that his wife didn’t work.”

  There was a small, but distinct pause. “No kids?”

  Adria shook her head. “Thank goodness.”

  Dane’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want kids?”

  Adria was intrigued by his response. From the way he’d acted at the playground, she’d expected wholehearted approval. “Not with Tony,” she said, watching him more closely. But the mask slammed down again. “The way I tried to please everyone back then, if we’d had kids, I’m sure I’d have stayed with him out of some misguided rationale that the kids needed their father.”

  “Pleasing everyone gets to be exhausting,” he said quietly.

  “My mom passed away when I was young and I sort of took over taking care of Gramps and Dad.”

  “Who took care of you?”

  His question caught her off guard, but before she could comment, he said, “They were lucky you were so strong. It’s more than I was able to do.” He looked faintly startled that he’d spo
ken.

  “They loved me,” she said. “And I loved them. They didn’t force anything on me. It just happened. I didn’t realize then the pattern it was establishing. At the time I’m sure they didn’t either.”

  After a long while Dane spoke. “After my dad died, my mom and my sister sort of shut themselves off. Dad was our hero, but especially Dara’s. She was like a miniature version of him.” Dane’s expression hardened. “I should have been there for them, but I had this big ball of anger inside me. There was a lot of speculation that my dad had been at fault. I was having a hard enough time dealing with him abandoning us. I was afraid if I stayed around too much, I’d eventually explode. I guess I knew that in a lot of ways, it was even worse for Mom and Dara. So I dealt with it by not being home any more than necessary.”

  Without quite realizing it, Adria reached out and laid her hand over his tightly clenched fists. “I’m sure you were all angry and hurting. There don’t seem to be any rules when someone in your family dies. You just do what you think is best and work with the rest. I’m sure they all understood.”

  Dane lifted his fingers and trapped hers between them. “Thanks.”

  In that one word, she heard genuine gratitude, compassion, and a trace of relief. How long had he been carrying that guilt?

  “I was the lucky one,” he added. “I had two really great friends. We were the Three Musketeers of Madison County.” His expression grew almost wistful. “They sort of picked up the pieces for me.” He cleared his throat. “The investigators cleared my dad. I guess that was when I really began to work through my anger. I had a fact, a tangible thing I could look at and analyze.”

  Adria knew exactly what he meant. “Was that when you decided to become one yourself?”

  He looked up, locking his gaze with hers. Adria drew in a short breath. She had a connection here with this man, she thought. As if he could see into her soul, and liked what he found. For the first time he’d opened that window, too. And she discovered she felt the same way.

  “Probably the day the report came out,” he answered finally.

  “When my grandfather died,” she began, needing to share with him as he had with her, “I was already engaged to Tony—”