Best Kept Secrets(102)



"What did you have in mind?"

"Messing around."

"Oh, well ..."

"You'd better get inside."

"I haven't paid you yet."

"For what?"

"The plane, your time."

"No charge."

"I insist."

He cursed. "The one thing I'm not going to argue with

you about is money. Got that? Now, good night."



He turned and took two long strides before she called his name again. When he came back around, his eyes bore into hers. "I don't want to be alone tonight," she admitted in a rush. Even with all the crying she'd done that afternoon, her

supply of tears hadn't been exhausted. They began to roll down her cheeks as steadily as the rainfall. "Please don't go,

Reede. Stay with me."

He moved back beneath the overhang, but his hair and

shoulders were already damp. Placing his hands on his hips, he demanded, "Why?"

"I just told you why."

"You've got to have a better reason than that, or you

wouldn't have asked."

"All right," she shouted up at him, "I feel like crap. Is

that reason enough?"

"No."

"I'm hurting for what my mother must have suffered for

my sake," she said, making a swipe at her leaking eyes.

"I'm no doctor."

"I need to be held."

"Sorry. I've got other plans."

"Don't you care that I'm appealing to you for help?"

"Not really."

She hated him for making her beg. Nevertheless, she threw

down the last vestiges of her pride and said, "My Grandma

Graham died resenting me for ruining Celina's life. She

wanted her to marry Junior, and blamed my untimely birth

when that didn't happen. Now, dammit," she said, "I need

to know that you don't despise me, too.

"Can you imagine how terrible I feel, knowing that I'm

the reason my mother married another man when she loved

you? If it hadn't been for me, you could have married her,

had children, loved each other for the rest of your lives.

Reede, please stay with me tonight."

He closed the distance between them, backed her into the

wall, and gave her a hard shake. "You want me to hold you

and tell you that everything is okay, and that the sun will

come out tomorrow and things will look better?"



"Yes!"

' 'Well, for your information, Counselor, I don't do bedtime

stories. When I spend the night with a woman, it's not because

I want to comfort her if she's hurting, or cheer her up if she's

sad." He took a step closer. His eyes narrowed until they

were mere slits. "And it's for damn sure not because I want

to play daddy."



Twenty-eight



Gregory Harper, district attorney of Travis County, Texas,

was clearly furious. He was on his third cigarette in five

minutes. His anger was directed toward his assistant, who

was seated on the other side of his desk, looking like she'd

been socked hard in both eyes.

"Who've you been sleeping with, Dracula? You look like

you've been sucked dry," Greg remarked with characteristic

abrasiveness.

"Could we stick to one crushing blow at a time, please?

Don't confuse the issue."

"Crushing blow? Oh, you mean the part where I told you

that your investigation is over and done with and you're to

return to Austin pronto, posthaste, lickety-split, do not pass

go, do not collect two hundred dollars, haul ass?"

"Yes, that crushing blow." Alex flattened her hands on

the edge of his desk. "Greg, you can't ask me to drop it

now."

"I'm not asking--I'm telling." He left his swivel chair

and moved to the window. "What the f*ck have you been

doing out there, Alex? The governor called me yesterday,

and he was pissed. I mean pissed."



"He's always pissed at you."

"That's beside the point."

"Hardly. Greg, everything you do is politically motivated.

Don't pretend it isn't. I don't blame you for it, but

don't play Mr. Clean with me just because your hand got

slapped."

"The governor thinks his racing commission can do no

wrong. To admit that the commission made a mistake in

selecting Minton Enterprises for a license is tantamount to

the governor admitting that he made an error in judgment,

too."

"Minton Enterprises is above reproach, as far as the horse-racing

business goes."

"Oh, I see. The only hitch is that you suspect one of the

Mintons is a murderer, or if not them, a peace officer. Gee,

for a minute there, I thought we had a problem."

"You don't have to get sarcastic."

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