Above the Law (20 page)

“On location it is. Now, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

The minute Alice left the room, Lindsey grabbed the dress on top of the pile on her bed, refusing to agonize over the decision any longer. What she was wearing tonight was the least of her worries. Her primary mission was to get as close to the facts as possible while still keeping her distance. The way her heart beat faster every time Dale walked into the room, she’d need every ounce of skill she possessed to strike that balance.

*

Dale was explaining to the hostess at Bob’s Steak and Chophouse that she was still waiting for the rest of her party when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Lindsey standing behind her, dressed in a stunning green dress that made her hazel eyes sparkle and pop.

Whoa
. Trained as she was to notice the most minute details about a person’s appearance, sparkling eyes had never been an attribute she’d included in her reports on the job. Meeting Lindsey like this, after hours, at a restaurant, with no escape plan was probably a very bad idea.

“You look nice,” Lindsey said.

“I’m wearing the same clothes I had on this morning.”

Lindsey looked her up and down. “Yes, and you look as good in them now as you did this morning.”

“I guess jeans and T-shirts aren’t your thing.” Dale wished she could bite back the question. Why should she care about what Lindsey thought about her wardrobe?

“Not true. You’re one of those people who look good in everything, but I have to admit the black T-shirt, Levi’s, and boots ensemble is my personal favorite.”

Dale felt the heat of a blush curl up her neck. Okay, so she cared, but she shouldn’t. Time to steer this conversation in a different direction. She signaled to the hostess that she was ready to be seated, and the next few minutes spent walking to the table and looking through the menu were a welcome reprieve.

“What’s good here?” Lindsey asked.

“Steak.”

“How about the fish?”

Dale put her menu down. “Steak. You’re in a landlocked city. The waiter will tell you they fly the fish in fresh daily, but fish weren’t meant to fly. You want fish, you go to the ocean. You come to Texas, you order beef. It’s easy.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not a vegetarian.”

“Actually, the sides here are amazing, so you’d be safe.”

“Should we order some wine?”

“You’re buying. Order what you want.”

“Why are you making this hard? You know I’m asking if you want some.”

Dale set her menu down. She did want wine, lots of it. Anything to reduce the anxiety that was making her crazy. “I’ll have a glass of whatever you’re having.”

Lindsey cocked her head. “I can’t tell if you’re being agreeable because you feel agreeable or if you’re just trying to get through this as quickly as possible.”

Dale couldn’t help but smile at Lindsey’s keen insight. “With your sharp mind, maybe you should be a federal agent.”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s pretty definitive.”

Before Lindsey could respond, their waiter came by to take their orders. They both ordered steaks, and Lindsey spent a few minutes quizzing the waiter about the wine list. When he finally left, Dale was ready to move on to other subjects, but Lindsey jumped right back into the conversation where they’d left off.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with what you do,” Lindsey said. “But don’t you have a lot of rules? I’m kind of allergic to too many rules.”

“Is that why you got called back from Afghanistan?”

“Someone’s done her homework.”

Dale shifted in her seat. She had. In the couple of hours before she’d shown up at the restaurant, she’d spent some time looking at reruns of
Spotlight America
to see coverage of the time that Lindsey was embedded with Army and Marine Corps units, and something had happened that she hadn’t counted on. She’d been impressed. Lindsey had a knack for getting the soldiers to open up and share the emotions that accompanied their experiences in a way that appeared effortless for both the interviewer and interviewee.

But then Dale watched the coverage of the time Lindsey had spent with General Tyson. Lindsey had spared no effort to portray Tyson as a ruthless bastard, completely disloyal to the president who’d appointed him. “I’ve watched some of your reports from Afghanistan.”

“I sense you have an opinion about my work. Care to share your impressions?”

Dale started to brush her off, but Lindsey’s earnest expression told her she really wanted to know. “Okay. Well, it seems to me for all your talk about objective journalism, you inject a lot of your own opinion into your stories.”

“Is that so?”

Was that a hint of defensiveness she heard? Dale decided to ignore it. Lindsey had asked the question and she was going to get an answer for no other reason than Dale wanted to know the why behind it. “Yes. You oppose the war, but you respect the soldiers who are there to fight. You delve into their personal stories and relay them with compassion. But when it came to General Tyson, you were ruthless. You didn’t even try to cast him in a positive light. You don’t approve of his aggressive style and desire to keep us engaged in the region and you made it clear in every frame of that interview.”

The waiter returned at that moment with the bottle of wine. Dale watched impatiently while he poured a small portion into Lindsey’s glass. She was anxious to hear Lindsey’s response, but Lindsey seemed to be stalling. She swirled the wine in her glass and held it up to the light before taking a drink and swishing it around in her mouth. Finally, Lindsey smiled her approval at the waiter and he poured them each a glass, but before he could leave, she said, “Do you mind if I ask you a question that has absolutely nothing to do with the food or wine?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing.”

“First off, what’s your name?”

“Jonas.”

“Okay, Jonas. What’s your opinion about the troop drawdown in Afghanistan? Is it happening fast enough or should we keep a presence there for the indefinite future?”

Dale sighed. “I’m sure Jonas has better things to do than debate you on international relations.”

“Let’s hear what his opinion is before we decide if there’s going to be a debate. Jonas?”

“I think it’s time for our troops to come home. Hell, everyone I know thinks the same thing. I mean—hey, aren’t you Lindsey Ryan? I watch you on TV all the time. I love your show.”

His voice rose with his last remark, and several patrons at nearby tables turned to look their way. Lindsey did her best to hide a grimace, but she had only herself to blame for letting an intimate evening with Dale turn into a very public display. While she fumbled for what to say, she saw Dale crook her finger and motion for Jonas to come closer.

“Jonas, she is definitely the Lindsey Ryan you see on TV, but she’s having a rare night off and we’re relying on you to ensure our privacy.” Dale handed him a folded bill. “I know you’ll do a great job.”

Jonas glanced at the bill in his hand. “Absolutely, Ms. Ryan. Not to worry.” And then he was gone.

“I thought he’d never leave,” Dale said.

“You’re just mad that he agreed with me.”

“Nine out of ten people would say they want all the troops to come home, but they don’t understand the intricacies of the situation. You know as well as I do how unstable the region is when we’re not there and it’s not a simple matter of pulling out. Besides, your pal Jonas was stumbling all over himself from the first moment he saw you. He would have agreed with anything you said.”

“Too bad I don’t have that affect on you.” Lindsey wanted to pull the words back the moment she spoke, but now that they were out there, she waited eagerly for Dale’s response.

“If you didn’t, this whole process might be a hell of a lot easier.”

Dale delivered the words and immediately picked up her wine glass and took a deep drink. Was her hand shaking slightly? Lindsey played the words back in her head several times to make sure she’d heard correctly. Had Dale just admitted she was attracted to her or had she misunderstood?

Ask her, dammit.
Lindsey locked eyes with Dale, but she didn’t ask for clarification. She couldn’t. If she did, then this conversation was sure to take a completely different direction than its intended purpose.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. She was here to ask personal questions, but this line of questioning was completely off limits if she wanted to get the story she came for. Whatever she said next would set the course for what lay ahead: giving in to the attraction between them or giving her all to deliver a hard-hitting human interest piece. She knew what she wanted, but she didn’t know how to choose, so she did what she knew best and stuck with the story. “Tell me about Maria Escobar.”

A few beats of silence passed between them, and then Dale took a deep breath. “Tell me what you want to know.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Tell me how you met.”

A smile flickered across Dale’s face and then settled into an earnest expression. “We met in the service. She was the prosecutor and I was her key witness. I’d arrested a private for driving while intoxicated.”

“I guess that professional conflict didn’t keep you from forming a personal relationship.”

“Is that a question?” Dale asked.

“Maybe it was just an observation.” Lindsey didn’t like where this was going, but she’d started it, so it was up to her to get things back on track. “I assume you started dating later, you know, after you were no longer her key witness.”

“Sure, that sounds right.”

Lindsey heard a ringing sound and watched as Dale reached under the table and pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do you need to get that?”

Dale frowned at the screen and touched it with her thumb. “No. Sorry, I thought I’d put it on vibrate.” She set the phone facedown next to her wine glass and folded her hands on the table. “Next question.”

This wasn’t working. Dale was poised and ready, like she’d prepped to tell all the details of her personal life, but the preparation robbed the telling of any vibrancy. When they got around to filming tomorrow, the result would be a dried up version of Dale’s story of loss, devoid of emotion unless she could figure out a way to catch her off guard. The truth was she didn’t want to talk about Dale’s past at all, not right now anyway. Not while they were enjoying a nice dinner that had started to feel an awfully lot like a date.

Jonas showed up at that moment to deliver their food, and they spent the next several minutes engaged in conversation about regular dinner table topics like their favorite foods, what they liked to read and watch on TV. When they were done and the plates were cleared, Jonas reappeared to ask if they wanted dessert. Lindsey deferred to Dale.

“I couldn’t eat another bite, but if you’d like to keep talking how about we take a walk?”

After they settled the bill, they walked outside. The restaurant was in the convention center hotel, and there didn’t appear to be much going on on that side of downtown after dark. Lindsey caught Dale looking at her high-heeled boots. “You like my boots?”

“I was just wondering how comfortable they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve walked miles in these babies. I won’t slow you down.”

For the next few moments they walked in silence through the dark, cool night. A few blocks away from the hotel, Dale switched to the curb side of the street and looped their arms together. Lindsey saw the reason a few feet away as they came up on a huddle of homeless men on the opposite sidewalk, but when Dale continued to hold her arm for the rest of the walk, she wondered if the gallant touch meant something more.

“Do you have more questions?” Dale asked.

She did have a ton of questions prepared for the interview tomorrow, but right now, leaning into Dale’s side, walking the streets like lovers enjoying a nighttime stroll, she didn’t want to ask any of them. If she was going to ask questions they were going to be things she wanted to know. “Why did you decide to become a DEA agent?”

“Not a very interesting story.”

They came to a park and Dale motioned to a bench. Lindsey sat down next to her and said, “Tell me anyway.”

“I come from a family of cops. It was kind of expected.”

“But you like it.”

“Yes. What about you?” Dale asked. “Why did you become a reporter?”

“There are a bunch of reasons, but one is that I like to tell people’s stories.”

“Even when they don’t want you to?”

“Are we talking about you?” Lindsey asked.

“Not necessarily. Forget I said that. What are the other reasons?”

Dale shifted on the bench and stretched her arm along the back of the seat. When she turned toward her, the light from the nearby lamppost illuminated her smile and her full, luscious, kissable lips. Suddenly, the night was no longer cool, and Lindsey lost the train of the conversation because all she could think about was the press of Dale’s hand against her back and how much she wanted to kiss her. “Reasons?”

“The other reasons you wanted to become a reporter?”

Okay, she could do this. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.”

“You will because it sounds corny.”

“Tell me.”

“To root out the truth.” Lindsey watched as a flicker of a grin crossed Dale’s lips. “See, you’re laughing.”

Dale held her hand to her chest. “I’m not. I swear. Okay, maybe a little. So, here’s a test. What are you thinking right now—tell me the truth.”

Lindsey wavered. She shouldn’t. Dale was a subject. She didn’t mix business with pleasure. But here they were, sitting on a park bench, talking about the kind of things she imagined real people talked about on a first date. She knew the next step, even if she knew she shouldn’t take it. Before she could think it to death, she leaned in and touched her lips to Dale’s.

They were as soft and firm as she’d imagined, and she swooned as Dale pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. She had no idea how much time passed before they broke for breath, but when they did, she was heady with want.

Dale’s phone buzzed again. She didn’t take it out of her pocket, but she stood and extended her hand. “We should get back,” she said.