Extreme Exposure (12 page)

Oh, come on, McMillan! You are
not
turned on by armpit hair!

But she was
—
that and the whole delectable sexy male package that came with it.

She sucked breath into her oxygen-starved lungs and slid out from between him and the stove, box of Earl Grey in hand. “Thank you. I’ll get your shirt in the wash while the water heats.”

Trying not to run, she grabbed his shirt from where he’d draped it over a kitchen chair and sought shelter in the laundry room, which was just off the kitchen by the sliding glass door.

“Tell me about this caller.” He walked over to the window above her sink and looked like he was about to open it.

Then she realized he was testing it, making sure it was securely locked. She stopped and watched him, taken aback. He
really was
trying to make sure she was safe. “There’s
nothing to tell. A pretty standard run-of-the-mill death threat.”

“Has he called before tonight?”

She rubbed detergent into the stain, dropped the shirt in the washing machine, turned the dial, and set it to wash. “No.”

He walked over to her sliding glass door and tested it. “Could it be connected to anything you’re working on for the paper?”

She hesitated to answer. “Yes, but I can’t talk about that.”

“Can you tell me what he said?”

Kara repeated the caller’s words. “Pretty vague.”

A muscle tensed in Reece’s jaw. “You can buy special locks for these doors, you know. They’re more effective than this wooden dowel at keeping intruders out.”

“Really?” She had never seen such a thing, but then again she didn’t spend much time patrolling the aisles at hardware stores.

He smiled. “Really. I’ll pick you up a couple next time I’m out.”

She shook her head and walked over to the cupboard to fetch two stoneware mugs for their tea. The kettle was just starting to whistle. “You don’t need to do that. I can ask about them next time I’m shopping. Do you take sugar or milk?”

In a few minutes, they sat in the living room on the couch, each with a steaming cup of tea. The next half hour passed in comfortable conversation, as Reece asked Kara questions about Connor. She felt herself begin to relax and told him of their upcoming trip to the museum and Connor’s rash of funny questions. She had just put Reece’s shirt in the dryer and returned with a second cup of tea for each of them, when she found him reading the article about his bill.

“That was a pretty hilarious quote you gave our intern.”

He shrugged off the compliment. “So I merit only an intern, do I? I had hoped to see you there.”

Her alarm bells ringing, Kara set their tea down, and sat.
This is what she’d feared
—
that he would feel their budding relationship earned him special consideration. “I felt it was best that someone else cover it. I can’t compromise my job, Reece.”

“It was just a joke, Kara. I’m not asking you to compromise anything.”

“Oh. Well, then, you understand that if we’re going to be friends—”

“Is that the direction we’re heading, Kara? Are we becoming friends? I sure as hell hope not.” He pinned her to the couch with his gaze and reached across to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, the touch of his fingers scorching her like fire. “Please tell me you’ve thought about me at least once since Friday.”

A blush crept into her cheeks. How did he do this to her? He was just a man.

Not just a man, McMillan. A very, very sexy man
.

“Okay, I’ll admit I thought of you once. For a second or two.”

“I guess it’s time I made more of an impression on you.” He scooted closer, his gaze never leaving hers, pulled her against him, and kissed her.

The phone rang.

Kara hopped to her feet, her pulse already racing. “It can’t be him again. He hasn’t called for an hour.”

Reece was already walking toward the phone. “Can you record on your machine?”

“Of course. I’m a journalist, remember.” She hurried into the kitchen, took a deep breath, clicked record, and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Kara, it’s Holly. I almost screwed the Orkin man! Can you believe it?” Holly’s voice came over the speaker loud and clear.

Kara shot Reece an embarrassed glance and clicked off the record button so he could no longer hear Holly. “That’s, um, very interesting. I can’t talk just now. Can you tell me about it tomorrow?”

Kara hung up and looked up to find a smirk on Reece’s face.

“The Orkin man?”

K
ARA LAY
in the dark, sleep once again eluding her.

Things were moving too fast. One minute she’d been chatting with Reece like the Drunk Whore of Babylon in a bar. The next he was getting all protective, offering to buy locks for her sliding glass door and acting like he was really, truly interested in her.

Is that the direction we’re heading, Kara? Are we becoming friends? I sure as hell hope not
.

When had a man ever gone out of his way to make sure she felt safe? When had any man acted like she was something delectable that he just had to get his hands on? When had any man asked her about Connor or listened to her talk about the sweet and silly things her son said?

“Are we still on for Friday evening?” Reece had asked on his way out the door.

She’d nodded. “My mom is driving down from Boulder to watch Connor.”

His voice had dropped to a masculine rumble. “Good.” Then he’d leaned down and given her a lingering kiss on the mouth, before turning and heading down the front steps. “Lock the door, and think about contacting the police.”

Kara figured there were more than a few police officers who wouldn’t mind terribly much if she turned up dead, but she didn’t tell Reece that. “Okay. And, Reece, thanks.”

The grin on his face as he’d opened the door to his Jeep had nearly turned her knees to Jell-O. “My pleasure, as always.”

But as she closed her eyes and drifted into a troubled sleep, it wasn’t Reece’s smile or his words that passed through her sleepy mind, but the rough voice of a stranger.

Listen, little girl, you have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into
.

R
EECE UNLOCKED
the door to his condo, tossed his keys on the counter, and set his briefcase on the floor. Then he reached for the phone. The dial tone told him he had messages, but he ignored them and dialed the number for Denver police dispatch.

He wasn’t pulling rank. He wasn’t using his status as a state senator to ask for any favors. He just had a few questions that needed answers. “This is Senator Reece Sheridan. Get me Police Chief Irving, please.”

It was a crime to threaten someone. According to Kara, she’d spoken to the police in the past over previous death threats, and they hadn’t taken her seriously.

Reece intended to find out why.

CHAPTER 9

K
ARA CALLED
the whistleblower first thing Thursday morning and left a message on his cell phone. It bothered her that she hadn’t reached him right away in person. If someone connected to Northrup knew she was investigating the plant, it was possible, however unlikely, that he knew about Mr. Marsh, as well.

She’d just gotten her notes about the latest lab results ready for the I-team meeting, when Holly bounded into her cubicle dressed in a very tight black dress and a wide smile. “Sorry I called so late, Kara, but I just had to tell you!”

“Talk fast. I’ve got an I-team meeting in five.”

While Kara sharpened a day’s supply of pencils
—
like any self-respecting reporter she held pens in disdain because they froze in cold weather, couldn’t write on wet paper, and ran out of ink when you needed them most
—
Holly related how the Orkin man had come to kill her roaches and ended up almost shagging her on her living room carpet.

“He was a hottie, blond, and really enormous like a Viking or something. His hands were huge!”

Despite her best intentions, Kara couldn’t focus on Holly’s narration, her mind on the meeting and what was sure to become a confrontation with Tom. “Well, he’ll probably be back, won’t he? It’s not like roaches ever die.”

Holly looked at her, irritation on her face. “You haven’t been listening. I said I kept thinking of all the chemicals that
might be on his hands, and I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Oh, well, that’s probably a good decision. Gotta go.” Kara grabbed her notes and sharpened pencils and hurried off to the conference room, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

Today was the day. She was going to tell Tom she was taking time off tomorrow morning. And when he acted like a jerk, as he inevitably would, she was going to stand up for herself and not make excuses or apologize. The newspaper owed her more comp time than she’d ever be able to collect. She ought to be able to take three hours off on a Friday without taking flack for it.

She listened while Tessa gave an update on the police shooting du jour. It seemed cops from the drug task force had exercised a no-knock warrant at the wrong house and shot the wrong man. Several members of the force had been suspended pending the outcome of the internal investigation, but citizens were calling for an overhaul of the entire department.

“I think this is front page, above the fold
—
twenty inches at least,” Tessa said.

Syd punched the numbers into her calculator and scribbled the results on her control sheet. “Get mug shots of the suspended officers if you can.”

Joaquin grinned. “Already on it.”

“McMillan.” Tom turned his gaze to Kara.

“The three water samples I took from neighbors’ wells show varying levels of petroleum products and of methylene chloride. It’s the same soup that’s in the drainage ditch.”

Tessa shook her head in disgust. “Nail ’em, Kara.”

Matt gave a low whistle of appreciation.

“Great work, Kara.” Sophie gave Kara a smile. “You are going to save people’s lives on this one. You know that, don’t you?”

Kara shrugged off the praise. “Having these results puts us in a bind. I cannot ethically delay reporting this information to the county and state health departments or to the people
whose wells the contaminated water was drawn from. But the moment I report the contamination and its ostensible source, the fine folks at Northrup will be on to me.”

If they aren’t already
.

“That’s when the real fun begins.” Matt shot her a conspiratorial adrenaline-junkie grin.

Kara took a deep breath and spoke the words casually and with finality, just as she’d rehearsed them. “Just FYI, I won’t be available tomorrow morning. I’m chaperoning a field trip for my son’s preschool class.”

The good mood permeating the room vanished.

Matt coughed. Tessa sipped her latte. Syd stopped punching numbers into her calculator and looked up.

“Okay.” Tom nodded. “Do you feel comfortable leaving the Northrup story untended for a day?”

Resolved to stand up for herself, Kara met Tom’s gaze. “It’s not even a full half-day. I doubt anything earthshaking will occur during the three hours I’m away. I’ll have my cell phone just in case. Even reporters are entitled to time off.”

“It’s more an issue of commitment than a question of what you’re entitled to, McMillan.” His voice carried a clear note of disappointment.

Matt coughed again.

Kara sat up straighter and tried to look outraged instead of intimidated. “Are you questioning my commitment, Tom?”

He waved her query away with an impatient swipe of his hand. “Of course not. By all means, take the morning off.”

But the cold shoulder he gave her for the rest of the meeting proved he was far from happy with her decision.

R
EECE SNIFFED
his shirt and relished the homey scent of the fabric softener. He was used to the dull industrial smell of dry cleaning on his clothes, and it surprised him how much he appreciated the difference. Or perhaps it was just the fact that Kara had personally washed this shirt that was
getting to him. He’d been about to hang it in his closet last night when he’d decided instead to wear it again.

This fact would, of course, remain forever his secret. If he ever told any of his male friends this, they would write him off. “Whipped,” they would say.

He turned his mind back to the session. A senator from the Western Slope was making a passionate appeal for changes in the way marketing for the fruit industry was regulated. Reece couldn’t figure out
why
state law regulated the marketing of fruit in the first place and listened closely, taking notes, until his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. A glance at the display showed him it was a call from the police department.

He stood and hurried from the Senate chamber into the hallway. “This is Sheridan. Go ahead.”

“I checked files dating back five years, Senator. Found nothing. If she filed a report, there’s no record of it.”

“Is it standard operating procedure to keep reports on file?”

“Yes. Are you sure she filed an official report?”

“Believe me, Chief Irving, if she did anything, she did it officially and by the book.”

“That’s damned peculiar.”

“Is it possible that whoever took the report didn’t take it seriously and just threw it away?”

“It’s possible, but I think it’s more likely that it got lost.”

“You just said you looked through all the records and found nothing.”

“Yes, but—”

“So where else could it be?”

“I don’t know.”

“Here’s what concerns me, Chief. Kara McMillan has ruffled a lot of feathers in this city. What if someone deliberately ignored her report and left her open to danger because he just didn’t like her?”

Chief Irving hesitated for a moment. “None of my detectives would do that.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because we are all guaranteed equal protection under the law. Unfortunately, Ms. McMillan is so convinced the police department won’t help her that she hasn’t reported a recent incident in which her life was blatantly threatened.”

“I don’t like to hear that. Give her my number, Senator, and I assure you I’ll handle the case personally. In the meantime, I’ll ask our officers to put in extra patrols on her street.”