- -
- 100%
- +
So how did he manage to eat up all the space anyway?
Ignoring the zing that lit up her nerve endings, she turned toward him and kept her gaze somewhere around his ear. “Where to?”
“Los Angeles. To my office.”
“We’re going to the FBI?”
“I want to look into a few things, and it gets us out of the house for a while.” He kept his gaze steady on hers and she fought the urge to look away, reminding herself he couldn’t see through the dark black lenses of her sunglasses.
“Can’t you access your files remotely?”
“I can do it faster and quicker at headquarters. Besides—” He broke off and she caught the sense of something lying just beneath his words.
“Besides what?”
“I want to check in, that’s all. I’ve been out of pocket for a few days and it makes me itchy.”
Landry hit the button for the ignition, the high-end model she drove already registering the key in her purse, and shifted into reverse. Despite herself, she was intrigued. By their outing and by whatever else he wanted to accomplish in LA. “What are you looking for?”
“Birth records, for starters. I want to know when and where Noah was born.”
The reminder that their hunt centered on digging into Noah’s background took some of the wind out of her sails, and Landry couldn’t help but eye the large gate that swung closed behind her car after she pulled out of Adair Acres. Two large As sat at the top of the fence, their swirling script as familiar a sight to her as her own signature.
So why did they suddenly appear so menacing? Like a brand, marking the property and all the secrets that hid in its folds?
She shook off the fanciful notion and kept her eyes on the road. The rolling countryside flew by her windows as she traveled the canyon roads she’d grown up on.
“It’s beautiful country.”
Derek’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, echoing what she already knew to be true about the land she called home. “It is. It’s so vibrant and lush, and no other place smells quite as sweet.”
“You truly love your home.”
Heat crept up her neck at his observation. She did love her home and always had. It was a large part of why she’d never ventured all that far, even if it meant living with the stifling expectations of her family.
She’d thought about New York as a teenager, and later fantasized about a flat in London or Paris. She’d even spent a winter on the French Riviera during a college break. But no matter how blue the water, the Côte d’Azur simply had nothing on her little corner of Southern California.
Several thoughts drifted through her mind as she imagined how she wanted to play Derek’s question, but in the end she simply settled for the truth. “I do.”
“It’s good to belong somewhere.” She risked a glance at his profile as she took the entrance to the freeway, surprised to see a forlorn expression that turned his masculine features craggy.
But when he turned and caught her gaze, she knew without question there was more beneath his words. “It’s good to have roots, Landry.”
“What about wings?”
“Sometimes flying’s overrated.”
His cryptic words smacked of sadness and loss. And as they sank in, the wholly unexpected need to nurture stuck in her chest, tightening her muscles like drawstrings.
She had no right to nurture.
Or question.
Or insert her opinions in whatever had put that haunted look behind his dark, solemn gaze.
They weren’t in a relationship. And despite the strange tug of attraction that had been her constant companion since he stood above the pool staring down at her the day before, she didn’t know Derek Winchester.
But you do know the feel of his lips and the caress of his hands.
She tamped down the traitorous thought as her car flew down the road, the heavy traffic of the city building with each passing mile. No matter how enticing those few moments in his arms, they were the consequence of a power play, nothing more.
A battle of wills between two stubborn people, testing the other to see how far each could push.
They absolutely were not the quiet moments of a couple in the throes of early attraction, barreling down that steep slide into love.
* * *
“At the risk of exposing my deep and abiding love for gritty detective shows, TV really doesn’t do it justice.” Landry looked around the spacious entrance to the FBI office in LA, doing her level best to fight the mix of awe and excitement.
Derek glanced up from where he signed her in as his guest, a lopsided grin turning up one corner of his mouth. “What were you expecting? Lennie Briscoe sitting at a desk at the corner?”
His reference to Jerry Orbach’s character on Law & Order warmed her, adding a surprising sense of fun to their hunt for information on Noah. “Maybe.”
“What else did you imagine?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged before getting into the game. “I guess I thought I might see a crime lord someone nabbed at lunch.”
“Naturally. Because crime lords are a dime a dozen.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m afraid to disappoint, but it looks like we’ve missed today’s crime lord sighting. But I happen to have something even more exciting.”
Derek gestured her toward the elevator off the main entryway.
“More exciting than a parasite who preys on the fine citizens of Los Angeles being brought to justice?”
“Better. I’ve got paperwork. Reams and reams of paperwork.”
“A dream come true.”
The forlorn passenger who’d ridden in her car had vanished, replaced with a man fully in his element. Derek had tossed a black sport jacket over his T-shirt, and the pressed material only emphasized the width of his shoulders. Which she really wouldn’t have noticed—at all—if he hadn’t stopped and turned toward her the moment they paused at the elevators, a broad grin on his face.
“I’m sure it is.”
They stepped through the sliding doors, his gaze growing speculative. “So detective shows, huh? I’d have pegged you as a reality junkie.”
Landry fought a hard snort and simply batted her eyelashes. “You’re lucky we’re in a place crawling with law enforcement professionals. I’m tempted to hurt you for a comment like that.”
“Note to self.” Derek mimed flipping open a detective’s notebook and jotting down a few lines. “No mention of singers, ladies who lunch or pregnant teenagers.”
“Thank you.”
“No. Thank you.” He gestured her toward a large room marked Archives. “I can keep my knowledge of a certain wealthy, home-based executive’s wife with extracurricular activities to myself, guilt free.”
“The FBI follows them?”
“The FBI follows a lot of people.”
Landry maintained a light, breezy air, even as his words struck a discordant note.
The FBI did follow a lot of people. And her aunt had thought her current family situation was bad enough to warrant that sort of scrutiny. She knew Aunt Kate was acting in what she believed was the Adair family’s best interests, but Landry also knew there was more to it.
An outsider—and a highly trained one at that—could see things others would miss, and Kate was canny enough to recognize that distinct benefit.
If she were smart—if they were all smart—they’d do well to remember that simple fact.
Derek laid a hand on her arm, the warmth penetrating the thin sleeve of her sweater. “You all right? You disappeared there for a minute.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m right here.”
His dark gaze sought hers and held it for a moment before he gestured toward the archive room. “After you, then.”
The subfloor hallway was as ruthlessly clean as the lobby, the scents of industrial cleaner and old paper mixing in the thick air. She knew it was silly, but Landry could swear she felt the weight of history pressing in on them as they entered the archive room.
Anxious to will away the oppressive feeling, she sought for humor to diffuse the moment. “You take all your fake girlfriends down here?”
“That all depends.”
“On what?”
“If an old FBI subbasement seems sexy or creepy.”
She couldn’t hold back the light giggle at his words, but before she could answer him, he pulled her farther into the room. “Come on. There’s a workstation down here that’s not used very much. It’ll give us a chance to sit and hunt around for a while.”
In moments Derek had them logged into a computer terminal, the screen awaiting his search query inputs. He’d shed the jacket for comfort, and her gaze was once again drawn to the powerful body beneath the thin veneer of black cotton. Corded muscles roped his forearms, tapering down to firm, capable hands.
Hands that had held her, caressed her and pulled her against his warm frame.
“Noah’s thirty-seven?”
The question pulled her from her musings before she nodded, her voice tight when she finally spoke. “Yes.”
If Derek heard the distress he ignored it, instead typing in Noah’s name, year of birth and parentage into the query field. Even with all their efforts to lighten the mood, Landry couldn’t quite vanquish the well of sadness as she watched him type her cousin’s name into the search bar.
While their failed kiss had been more the cause of her cool attitude back at the house, she hadn’t lied about Noah. The thought of what they were doing—and the consequences for her cousin—was tough to swallow.
Two months before, her father had been ripped from her life, the cruel hand of death dealt by another. If she and Derek discovered proof that Noah was the missing Adair heir, wouldn’t they be doing the same in reverse?
Ripping him from the only life he’d ever known? And the comfort of an identity he’d lived with since he was an infant.
On a resigned sigh, she admitted to herself that wishing the truth away—or worse, attempting to hide it—wasn’t the answer, either. “You need to add Ruby to your next search string.”
“Your father’s first wife?”
“Yes. Ruby Townsend Mason.”
“Her daughter, Georgia, is Carson’s fiancée, right?”
“Georgia’s her stepdaughter, but they might as well be related by blood. The two of them are incredibly close.”
Again, the pressure of the past few months weighed on her as she thought about the woman who’d come into her brother’s life, brightening his entire world and helping to ease the pain of wartime that had scarred him, both physically and emotionally. Georgia was an incredible person, and she’d been raised with an abundance of love and caring. Ruby Mason might not be her biological mother, but she was Georgia’s mother in all the ways that mattered.
It was humbling to contrast the relationship to the one she shared with her own mother. As they always did, thoughts of Patsy Adair managed to make her feel sad and stifled, all at the same time.
“I’ll include Ruby’s information next.” Derek’s voice broke into her thoughts as he set up another query while the first was running in the background. “It’s interesting that it was Georgia who made the connection about Noah.”
“She saw an old picture of Ruby’s father and was shocked by how much the man resembled Noah.”
“Connections.” He muttered the word as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Strong. Efficient. Competent.
An entirely unexpected flutter settled beneath her skin and Landry tried to shake off the strange well of attraction. Seriously? When did a man sitting at a computer terminal become sexy?
When he wore a black T-shirt and low-slung jeans like Derek Winchester, that’s when.
Ignoring the sexual buzz—especially in light of the fact that Derek seemed to be oblivious to one, his gaze focused on the computer screen—Landry’s thoughts returned to Georgia. She knew the suspicions about Noah had been weighing heavily on Georgia’s mind.
Was Noah really Jackson?
And could it even be possible he’d been a part of their family this entire time?
Georgia hadn’t wanted to get Ruby’s hopes up, so instead of reveling in the celebration of her engagement to Carson, the woman was busy keeping secrets from her stepmother.
Landry fought back a small sigh at the realization that yet another layer of deception and mystery permeated her life and the lives of those she loved.
It was further proof that the grounds of Adair Acres held as many old secrets as new ones.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.