Midnight Heat (8 page)

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 withdrawal 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.

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.

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.”