Private Indiscretions (7 page)

“Surely Randall had other friends?”

“Of course, but politics were his life. Let me think on it. What else will you do?”

“See what we can get off the envelope aside from the San Francisco postmark. DNA and fingerprints, if we can.”

“You can get DNA from the envelope?”

“If they licked the flap. Short-term, we might get gender and race. We can use what we get toward either eliminating someone or making them a strong possibility. If we had more time, who knows? Next step, an assets search, personal and professional finances, including campaign contributions. I'll get my partners up here tomorrow to run that side of it. That'll free me for the interviews.”

She paled. “How many people are going to be involved?”

“Dana, if I didn't trust my partners one hundred percent, I wouldn't involve them. If we don't keep confidences, we don't stay in business.”

“I expect you to use an alias for your written records.”

He thought she was being unnecessarily paranoid but didn't say so. “Okay. As for motive—what harm is caused by revealing something about Randall's past? His reputation would be soiled. So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘so what?' He spent his life—”

“Bad choice of words. I apologize. What I mean is, who is most affected by revealing his secrets? You.”

“Well, I figured that out.”

He liked when she got short with him because it meant she'd let her guard down, reminding him of the girl she'd been. If they'd had a different kind of relationship he would've teased her about it. “Give me some possibilities.”

“Someone who wants my seat in the Senate.”

“Someone from either party.”

She nodded. “Or not even the candidate but someone who wants him in office. It could be done without his knowledge or agreement.”

“That's potentially a big number.”

“Could be, yes.” She rubbed her temples.

“What other possibilities?”

“Someone who plain old doesn't want
me
to win.”

“Anyone come to mind?”

“No.”

“I can think of one.”

She looked puzzled.

“Harley Bonner,” he said.

“Harley's not smart enough. What could he have on Randall?”

“Harley's rich enough to hire smart. And we don't know what anyone could have on Randall, do we?” He sipped his iced tea. “Hilda?”

Dana's eyes widened. She laughed. “You're kidding.”

“Until you've ruled someone out, keep them on the list. Did she resent you marrying Randall?”

“I have no idea. She doesn't show emotion of any sort, like or dislike.”

“You said she gave you the evil eye in the kitchen. She also saw us kiss.”

He said nothing as Dana absorbed that information then levered herself off the sofa. She wandered to the window overlooking the backyard, her arms crossed.

“The motive may not even involve you, Dana, except as a barrier to someone else's goals. I'm pointing out possibilities.”

“Okay.” She traced a square on the windowpane. “What else?”

“Could Randall have had an affair? A child out of wedlock?”

“He wouldn't have turned his back on a child. As for an affair, he had no reason to have one.”

A spiraling path of jealousy once again swept through Sam and wouldn't dissipate. “People stray for lots of reasons.”

“Our sex life was fine,” she said, an edge to her voice. “Good.”

“Not great?”

She faced him.

“You were married a year and a half,” he pointed out, making himself treat her like any other client. “You were still on your honeymoon. Sex should've been great.”

“I had no complaints.”

“Did you have comparisons?”

Her jaw got tighter. “Yes.”

He hesitated, then came close. He almost put his hands on her shoulders. “I have so little information to work with. I know it's hard to tell me.”

“Especially you.” The words seemed to stick in her throat.

“Why?”

“Because you already saw me at my worst.”

An image flashed. Dana, her blouse torn away, skirt pushed up, her body covered by Harley's holding her down. She bucked beneath him, giving her all to get away. He had one hand on her mouth, the other trying to unzip himself. Sam had grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him off and threw him aside like a sack of garbage, finding a strength he didn't know he had.

After he'd chased Harley off, he turned to Dana. The shell-shocked look in her eyes ripped through his soul. She'd sat there, not moving, not attempting to gather the tattered remains of her blouse. He'd taken off his shirt and
draped it around her, helping her slip her arms into the sleeves, but otherwise not touching her.

“What happened before wasn't your fault,” he said. “Neither is this.”

She shrugged. “Randall and I had everything in common. We thought alike. We believed in the same principles. I felt useful. I was happy.”

“But?”

She stopped him with a look. “Sex isn't everything, you know.”

That brought him up short. The passion in her dark eyes made him push when caution dictated restraint. “No?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What
is
everything?”

She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Common goals and values. Supporting each other through good times and bad. Knowing what to expect at—”

“Were there bad times?”

She looked confused at the interruption. “Well, no. Not yet. But we would've supported each other.”

“And that was enough to make you happy?”

“What do you want to hear? That I wanted to swing from the chandelier?”

“Did you?”

“Gymnastics don't— Dammit, Sam. I haven't lived a sheltered life. I've read the
Kama Sutra.
”

“Ah.”

He could see by her expression that she finally understood he was trying to lighten the moment. “I'm trying to figure out if Randall cheated on you,” he said. “And if it's come back to haunt. You really don't think there was another woman?”

“No.” She glared at him. “Not a man, either.”

“I keep going back to the word
saintly.
It implies something personal. And moral.”

“If I knew I would tell you.”

He realized she'd reached the end of her tolerance for
the interrogation. He scooped up his jacket. “You'll need to get Hilda out of the house tomorrow.”

Several seconds passed before she showed signs of having heard him. Exhaustion stole over her face. Ah, Dana. Show me anything but vulnerability.

“Why?” she asked.

“I need to check out the house.”

“For what?”

“Clues. I'm assuming he had an office here.”

“Yes. I've never noticed anything out of the ordinary, though.”

“You weren't looking.”

“Okay. I'll figure out something. Sam—” She touched his arm. “Thank you.”

“We'll get to the bottom of it, I promise you. Get some sleep. Call me when Hilda's gone. You can stay home tomorrow, right?”

“It'll take a little finagling, but yes.”

“Can you ask Abe to come here?”

“Sure.”

“I'll need the names and addresses of your attorney and accountant.”

“Okay.”

“I'll let myself out.” He wanted to hold her, to rub her shoulders until she stopped holding them so stiffly. “Good night.”

She tried to smile. The effort twisted his stomach into a tighter knot.

He eyed her bed as he left the room, wishing he weren't picturing her there with her husband. Wishing, too, that he'd asked her why she'd told Abe not to contact him about her letters. But that opportunity was gone.

He walked down the hallway and descended the stairs, observing the house differently than when they'd climbed the stairs earlier. She fit here. Her father had been right all those years ago. Perhaps she'd achieved even more than he'd expected. The road she'd taken had led to a life of
helping others, of doing good, of leaving a legacy when she was done.

She truly had been destined for something better than Sam could have offered her then. Here was the proof.

L
ate the next afternoon Dana sank into a chair in front of Randall's desk in the downstairs office. Seeing Sam seated behind the monstrosity wasn't as odd as she'd anticipated. He was big enough to do it justice.

She wanted to touch him, she realized with a jolt. To march over to him and kiss him senseless.

“Anything new?” she asked, forcing herself to be businesslike.

He sat back, the chair squeaking a little. “Not much. I've been through every file and searched all the bookshelves. I was just about to start checking out the other rooms.” He pointed to a large piece of paper spread out on a table, the curling ends weighted with books. “I even found a copy of the original house design. So, how'd it go in the attic?”

“I pulled a couple of boxes you might want to look at. Mostly it's old furniture, and clothing that would sell for plenty in the vintage market. Nate said to tell you that ev
erything's in order, so far.” She liked his partners. Nate Caldwell, Southern California blond and handsome, was a nice foil to Arianna Alvarado's dark beauty. She was no dainty lady, but a no-nonsense, I-can-take-care-of-the-world woman. Sam had already interviewed Randall's attorney and accountant, then brought boxes of paperwork to the house with him before his friends arrived that morning. They'd gone right to work in the library. Sam had settled in the office next door after lunch.

“How long have you known Nate and Arianna?” she asked.

“Since just after boot camp.”

“Were you in the same unit?”

“We worked the same details off and on.” He rapped his knuckles on the table. “I have a feeling we're not going to find an answer here,” he said, changing the subject. “If anything tangible existed, I doubt it was something he'd keep to be discovered later.”

“He wouldn't have expected to die so young.”

“True. But he would be aware of potential damage. If it's something personal enough to destroy his ‘saintly' reputation, there might not be physical evidence.”

She'd come to the same conclusion. “Meaning it may come down to someone making an accusation that no one can confirm or deny.”

“I'm afraid so.”

How could she fight that? There had to be another angle, she just hadn't thought of it yet. “Hilda should be back soon, Sam.”

He looked at his watch. “We can't quit now,” he said, “so I suppose we need to come up with a reason why we're all here. I expect we'll be at this well into the night.”

“I don't need to tell her anything other than we're working. Should I ask her to fix dinner for all of us?”

“That'd be good, thanks.” He moved to the table where the house plans lay and leaned on his palms to study the page. He shifted his shoulders as if to loosen the muscles.

Dana took a chance. She came up behind him, put her hands on his shoulders and pressed hard with her fingers. His body went rigid.

“Don't pull away,” she said. “You've done so much for me.”

He relaxed his shoulders by degrees. She liked that he didn't argue, even though she'd found that she liked arguing with him. As tired as she'd been last night, she hadn't been able to sleep, and it wasn't for worrying about Randall or the threat. She'd held her fingers to her lips, trying to recapture the kiss.

“Did you sleep last night?” she asked, continuing the massage, enjoying it probably more than he, as she filled her own need to touch him.

“Some.” He arched a little as she pressed along his spine, moving lower, then heading back up before he stopped her for venturing too low. He never stopped studying the house plans.

“You could lie down for an hour now,” she said.

“I don't nap.”

She smiled at his words, as if he'd been insulted. Then an involuntary sound came from him as her thumb hit a spot along his shoulder blade.

She worked at it, felt the knot smooth out. He had an amazing body, the ideal male with broad shoulders and chest, narrow waist and hips. Beautiful. She wanted to lay her head against his back, wrap her arms around him—

He jerked upright.

She pitched backward, but he managed to reach behind and grab her.

“Sorry,” he said, then tapped the plans. “Look at this.” He scanned the room. “There's a secret passage in the wall. It's not uncommon for the era, so I thought there might be, plus the walls are so thick, you can camouflage it. The opening's in this room, behind the bookcase.”

He strode that direction and knocked on the wall, which
did sound hollow. “I wonder where the latch is. Did you know about it?”

“Not a clue.” She joined him in the search. Had Randall known? Was it a secret passed from father to son? He'd been an only child, and he had no children. Why hadn't he told her about it? If the plans were in his desk, surely he'd known.

Had he used the passage?

“Where does it lead?” she asked.

“Looks like it runs between this room and the library then goes downstairs. Maybe into the wine cellar you showed me this morning. There might be an exit to the outside from there. Or there might not.” He tried twisting carved wood curlicues and swirls in sequence down the wall.

“Do you think it was an escape route?” Dana asked.

“Built in 1908? Who knows? Usually secret passageways are found off bedrooms. A way to sneak the mistress in and out.” He moved up a level, finally turning a silver wall sconce. The wall popped open a couple of inches. “A silver latch,” he said, turning to her and grinning. He opened the door fully and peered in. “Undoubtedly an inside joke in the Sterling family. I saw a flashlight in the bottom desk drawer.”

Dana found the flashlight and passed it to him, then followed him inside.

As secret passageways went, it was nothing special, just dark. She didn't have to squeeze to get through, but Sam had to angle his body a little. He kept the flashlight moving, not really lighting the path, but everything else. The air was stagnant, dry and dusty. She trailed her hand down the walls to steady herself, finding rough plaster and lathe.

She sneezed.

“Plenty of cobwebs,” he said, spotlighting the ceiling, brushing at the wispy streams. “The dust on the floor has been disturbed, but I can't tell how recently.”

Her finger snagged on something sharp. She snatched her
hand back then twitched her nose, trying to stop another sneeze. “I can't see where I'm going.”

He reached for her hand.

Oh. Well. This is nice, she thought. He could keep her in the dark awhile longer.

She sneezed again.

“Arianna, I believe there are rats in the walls.” Nate's voice, layered with humor, filled the passageway.

“With allergies,” Arianna added.

“Look up there. It's a speaker,” Sam said to Dana, spotlighting it, then another on the office-wall side. “Not exactly an early 1900s innovation.” He shined the beam over the rest of the wall.

“Nate,” he called out. “We're in a passageway between the rooms. If Dana's housekeeper gets back while we're still here, give us a shout.”

“You got it.”

“Let's keep going,” he said, taking her hand again.

They inched along until they came to the end, then couldn't find a latch to open an exit door to the stairway. “Batteries are dying,” he said, shaking the flashlight, the power fading. “I'll check it out again later. Let's head back to the office.”

There was no way they could change places, so Dana led, although much more slowly, feeling her way. The light died. The batteries were probably years old. At the same moment they heard Nate greet Hilda and introduce himself and Arianna by name without explaining who they were.

Putting his hand on her back, Sam stopped Dana from going any farther.

“Where is Senator Sterling?” they heard Hilda ask.

“She went for a walk,” Arianna answered. “We expect her back anytime now.”

Dana's nose twitched again. Panicked, she pinched her nose and turned to him. “I'm going to sneeze,” she whispered frantically.

“No, you're not.”

His command struck her as funny. She tried to hold her nose and cover her mouth at the same time. “Oh, yes…I am. What are you…going to…do about it?”

He pulled her to him and wrapped her in both arms, pressing her face to his chest, muffling her, startling the sneeze right out of her but replacing it with something altogether different—need. Her nose touched the vee of skin where he'd removed his tie and undone his top two buttons.

“Will you be staying for dinner?” Hilda asked.

“We're not sure,” Nate said. “We'll know more when the senator returns.”

Dana heard Sam's heart beat, strong and steady. Wouldn't it be lovely to fall asleep to that soothing sound? She pressed her lips to the spot over his heart. He went perfectly still but his heart rate picked up.

“I've never known her to go for a walk and leave company behind,” Hilda said, an edge to her voice.

“She said she needed air.”

And Sam. I need Sam.
She curved her arms up his back and felt him jerk. His mouth touched her hair, smothering a harsh breath, but there wasn't much he could do to stop her without making noise. He cupped her face and tipped her head back. They were poised to kiss but he didn't lower his mouth to hers. She felt his breath dust her face and knew what an effort he was making to resist her.

His resistance only encouraged her. She slipped her arms around his waist and pulled herself closer to him, feeling his response. She moved against him.

“Sam—”

He put his hand over her mouth then slid both hands over her rear, cupping her, lifting her into him, the effort to remain undetected both dangerous and exciting.

“We're not company,” Arianna said in the next room, her tone all business. “We're working on a project for her.”

Dana swallowed a groan and leaned back as Sam moved his mouth down her neck and into her cleavage. He nudged
aside her blouse with his nose, dipped his tongue under the lacy edge of her bra. Her head touched the wall. She arched higher toward him. It was impossible to keep contact above and below the waist at the same time, yet she wanted both.

“I'll bring refreshments while you wait for the Senator,” Hilda said.

Arianna said something about the offer being wonderful…or something. Dana didn't care. The darkness swallowed her. There was only touch, and no way of knowing where the next touch would come. He set his hands on her waist. She was afraid he would push her away, but he pulled her blouse free from her slacks, slowly, seductively, the drag of fabric against her skin almost painful. He unbuttoned her blouse and snapped open the front closure of her bra without fumbling. She'd have to think about that later.

He let her stand there without touching her, her breath uneven, her pulse racing. Then his hands covered her breasts with heat, startling her for a moment. His fingers sought her aching nipples, then at last his mouth. Ah, his mouth. Warm, wet, wonderful.

“What would you like?” Hilda asked.

Sam inside me. Right here. Right now.
Dana arched higher as he drew on her nipples, squeezing the flesh around them. He slid a hand down her body, following her zipper, then lower.

“Some iced tea would be great,” Nate said, his tone dismissive—or was it desperate?

Sam dragged his thumb along the seam of her jeans, stopping when she gasped, making a circular motion in the same rhythm he used with his mouth on her breast, twisting his body to accommodate the confines of the small space.

“Nothing to eat?” Hilda asked.

“No, thanks.”

“Very well.”

Oh. Very well, indeed.
There, she thought, raising her hips. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't—

“You'd better get out of there while you can, buddy,” Nate said a moment later. “She's suspicious. She's probably going to look for Dana.”

Noooo. She was right on the edge. Just one more touch, one more swirl of his tongue on her breast. A little more pressure down low—

She needn't have worried. He kept going until release slammed into her. She bit her lip as she came hard against his hand. She'd forgotten the power, the rush, the heat of sex. The oblivion.

Warm air bathed her damp body when he moved away from her. He was breathing as deeply as she.

She wanted to kiss him, not only to end the moment but to let him know what it meant to her. She reached out in the dark. Her hand bumped his chest.

“Get dressed,” he ordered in a hard whisper.

She dragged her hand down him, wishing she could see him and glad she couldn't.

“Dana.” The pleading tone could have meant for her to continue or to stop.

Testing, she molded her hand over him. He moved, one quick, hard lurch, as if trying to control an uncontrollable action.

He swore. His response filled her with power.

“No more.” He encircled her wrist, stopping her. “No…more.” He seemed to struggle to breathe. “Get…dressed.”

The shifting of fabric filled the space around them. He put his hands on her hips and moved her forward. They stopped where they'd entered, listened for a few seconds, opened the door a crack.

Empty. They rushed into the room and latched the door, then straightened the items that had shifted on the bookshelves. She felt his gaze on her as she tucked in her blouse and ran her fingers through her hair. His silence said more than words.

“Don't you dare say that was a mistake,” she said, lifting her chin. “Don't you dare.”

“I—”

The office door opened. Hilda stood there. “You're home.” She looked confused for a moment then slipped back into her designated role.

“Did you want something?” Dana asked, irritated, wishing she knew how Sam felt. He would undoubtedly take advantage of the interruption to change the subject.