Chapter 14
Sam hadn’t expected to sleep. But the combined lull of the moving car, the heated seats, Nick’s hand wrapped companionably around hers…
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We’re here.”
Coming to, Sam looked out at the vast darkness and was able to make out the shape of a cabin in front of the car. “Let’s get to it.”
The rush of frigid air slapped at Sam’s face. She followed Nick up the gravel path to the door and stood back while he used his key in the lock.
Inside, he flipped on lights. Sam blinked a comfortable living area into focus. Big, welcoming sofas, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, overflowing bookshelves on either side of the stone fireplace, framed family photos and a couple of trophies. Here, at last, was Senator John Thomas O’Connor.
She shrugged off her coat, pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, tugged the clip from her hair and got to work. Two hours later, she had discovered that John loved Hemingway, Shakespeare, Patterson and Grisham. His musical taste ran the gamut from Melencamp to Springsteen, Vivaldi to Bach. She had sifted through photo albums, yearbooks and a file cabinet that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to anyone other than its owner.
She perused a series of essays John wrote for his senior project at Harvard, detailing the roles of government and the governed. The essays were bound into a small navy blue volume with smart gold embossing.
“He was proud of that,” Nick said from the doorway to the office.
Startled, she glanced up at him. She had almost forgotten he was there.
“His father had the book made and gave it to everyone who was anyone.” Nick stepped into the room and handed her a steaming mug.
“Oh, is that hot chocolate?” she asked, soaking in the mouthwatering aroma.
“I figured it was too late for coffee.” He had removed his suit coat and released the top buttons on his dress shirt. Her eyes fixated on a dark tuft of chest hair.
“You figured right. Fat free, calorie free, I hope.” Swirling her tongue over the dollop of whipped cream on top, she took a moment to appreciate the taste. Looking up at him again, she found his hazel eyes locked on her. “What?” she asked, her voice shakier than she intended it to be.
“It’s just…you…and whipped cream. It’s giving me ideas.”
She swallowed, hard.
“I like your hair down like that,” he added.
Choosing to ignore the comments and the flush of heat that went rippling through her body, she returned her attention to the book John had dedicated to his father. A photo slid out from between the pages and fell to the floor. Sam put her mug on the desk and leaned over to retrieve the picture of a strapping blond boy of about sixteen in a football uniform.
“What’ve you got there?” Nick asked.
“Looks like a photo of John when he was in high school.” She turned it over to find the initials “TJO” and a date from four years earlier. “Oh. It’s not him. Who’s TJO?”
Nick took the photo from her, studied the likeness, and then turned it over. “I have no idea, but he could be John when I first met him.”
“Did he have a son, Nick?” She thought of Patricia Donaldson and the three-thousand-dollar-a-month payments.
“Of course not.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“I’m positive,” he said hotly. “I’ve known him since he was eighteen. If he had a son, I’d know it.”
“Well, if that’s not his son, whoever he is, he bears a striking resemblance to John.” Sam tucked the photo into her bag with plans to ask the senator’s parents about it in the morning. “He had quite a thing for Spider-Man, huh?” She gestured to the shelves in the corner that housed John’s extensive stash of Spiderman collectibles.
Nick smiled. “He was obsessed.”
She picked up a carved placard from the desk that bore Spider-Man’s signature saying, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility. Studying it for a long moment, she glanced at Nick. “Did he believe this?”
“Very much so. Despite his sometimes lackadaisical approach to his job, he took his responsibilities as seriously as he was able to.”
“But not as seriously as you would have.”
“Let’s just say if our roles had been reversed, I would’ve done a lot of things differently.”
“Have you ever wanted to be the one in the corner office?”
“God no,” he said with a guffaw. “I work much better as the guy behind the guy.” He seemed to sober when he remembered he had lost his guy when John died.
“With his parents’ okay, I’d like to have a team go through here more methodically tomorrow.” She stretched and got up. “I’m running out of gas after twenty hours.”
“I’m guessing you’ll want to talk to his parents about that photo,” Nick said, “so why don’t we crash here and go see them in the morning?”
Her eyes darted up to meet his. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” he said with a sexy smile. “There’s a guestroom I use when I’m here. I’ll take John’s room.”
Sam ran it around in her mind as she finished her hot chocolate. Technically, the cabin wasn’t a crime scene, so she didn’t have an issue there. She was exhausted, he didn’t look much better, and she could knock a few things off her to-do list in the morning if she stayed in Leesburg, including another discussion with Terry O’Connor if he was available.
“All right,” she said, even though she would’ve preferred separate hotel rooms, but hotels were in short supply in that corner of the county. She got up to follow Nick down the hallway to the bedrooms.
“Bathroom’s in there,” he pointed. In the guestroom, he rooted through an antique chest of drawers and pulled out a large T-shirt. “One of mine if you want something to sleep in. There’re extra toothbrushes and anything else you might need in the bathroom closet.”
“Thanks,” she said, embarrassed and shy all of a sudden—two emotions she rarely experienced.
He slid a hand around her neck to draw her in close to him. For a long, breathless moment he just looked at her before he kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning. Holler if you need anything.”
Devastated by the simple kiss, she watched him cross the hall, her heart pounding and her hands damp. She hated being off balance and out of kilter, which of course was why he had done it. Feeling defiant, she used the bathroom and then left the shirt he had given her on the bed as she stripped out of her clothes and slid naked between the cool sheets.
Less than a minute later, she was out cold.
“Sam. Honey, wake up. You’re dreaming.”
Sam could hear him but couldn’t seem to force her eyes open.
“Babe.”
Her eyes fluttered open to find Nick sitting on the bed.
When he brushed the hair back from her face, she realized she was sweating and her heart was racing.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Mmm, sorry.” It occurred to her that she must’ve been loud if she had woken him. She glanced at him, noticing he wore only a pair of sweats, and let her eyes take a slow journey over his muscular chest.
“It was a doozy, huh? The dream?”
“I don’t know. I never remember the details, just the fear.” She rubbed a weary hand over her cheek and wished for a glass of water. “Did I…um…say anything?”
He replaced the hand she had on her face with his own. “You kept saying, ‘Cease fire, hold your fire.’”
“Shit,” she said with a deep sigh.
He stretched out next to her on top of the comforter and settled her head on his shoulder. “It was a traumatic thing, Sam, but it wasn’t your fault.”
Steeped in the masculine scent of citrus and spice, she closed her eyes against the rush of emotion and absorbed the comfort he offered. Just for a minute. His chest hair brushed against her face, making her want him so fiercely. “If only I could forgive myself as easily as you’ve forgiven me.”
He brought her closer to him.
“Um, Nick?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m kind of naked under here.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
As all the reasons this was a bad idea came crashing down on her, she attempted to struggle out of his embrace. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t have this. I can’t have you.”
“Yes, you can.”
Her face still pressed to his chest, Sam gave herself another second to wallow in the scent that she’d never forgotten. “Not here. Not now.”
He released a deep, ragged breath. “I missed you, Sam. I thought about you, about that night, so often.”
“I did, too,” she said, her eyes closed tight against the onslaught of emotions she’d only felt this acutely once before.
“I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. If you’re in the room, I want you.”
“I seem to have the same problem.”
“We’ve got a few hours until daybreak. Would it be okay if I just held you until then?”
“I’d love nothing more, but it’s too tempting. You’re too tempting.”
Sighing again, he released her and sat up. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “See you in the morning.”
Sam watched him go, knowing she’d never get back to sleep with every cell in her body on fire for him.