01 - The Heartbreaker (8 page)

A group of firemen and the large chief of police headed toward them, causing Sloane to back up, her fear obvious.

“I’m going to need some answers,” Rick said.

Chase nodded. “I agree.”

She started pulling at the dog’s collar, trying to detach him from the tree. “I can’t talk here,” she said, working at the knot. “I can’t. . . We need to go somewhere private, okay?” She glanced up from her kneeling position and focused pleading eyes on Chase.

She seemed on edge, still in shock. Damned if he didn’t plan
on taking care of her and not because Madeline Carlisle had asked. He squeezed her shoulder in the only gesture of reassurance he could offer.

Rick pulled out his notepad. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to need answers before you go anywhere,” he said to Sloane.

Chase caught the dismay on her face at Rick’s insistence. She wasn’t ready to answer prying questions here. Chase weighed his brother’s dedication to his job against his loyalty to family. Nothing ran stronger or deeper than Chandler family duty. He hated taking his brother’s loyalties for granted, but another glance at Sloane and he knew he would do it anyway.

He grabbed Sloane’s hand. “We’re leaving. Rick, you can come by my place and she’ll talk to you later.” His tone brooked no argument.

When Rick snapped shut his pad and slid it back into his pocket, Chase let out a slow exhale. For the first time ever, Chase Chandler had chosen a woman over family.

S
loane eased back into a comfortable recliner chair in Chase’s living room of his old but well-kept Victorian house. It felt strange to be here with him now after she’d never expected to see him again.

The downstairs of his house held the
Yorkshire Falls Gazette
offices, while upstairs was his private domain. She looked around his home as a woman, not a decorator, seeing the private lair of the man with whom she’d slept. Despite its dark wood and lack of frills, she couldn’t miss the homey touches: the Oriental rugs over the hardwood floors, the pictures of family that were placed in a way that highlighted their importance to him, and the clutter so typical of a man living alone.

And he was very much a man. As he stood talking to his brother by the window, she sensed his contained energy, the same energy he’d used when he’d made love to her. Sloane studied him now and realized her memory had failed her. He was even better-looking than she’d remembered. And as he gestured around, his grass-stained jeans stretched tight over his incredible behind.

She shivered and this time shock wasn’t the reason. Lord, the things the man did to her with a single glance. When he’d dived on top of her earlier, she’d recognized his familiar scent, and despite the danger, she’d become instantly aroused. They had an already-established connection, one that made this whole scene even more surreal. How
had
they come to meet up again? She’d
given Officer Rick Chandler answers, but she had yet to receive some from Chase.

She stretched out her feet and her pummeled body felt the pain inflicted when she’d thrown herself to the ground to save Dog. That, she’d learned, was Samson’s pet’s name. The name was yet another sad commentary on the life this man named Samson lived. At least the fire department had confirmed that no one was in the home at the time of the explosion, relieving her fears about Samson being hurt, or worse.

After leaving the scene, she and Chase had dropped Dog at Dr. Sterling’s, the town vet, so he could be checked out and cared for until Samson returned. No one had addressed the issue of what would happen to Dog if Samson failed to come home. Sloane shivered and wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.

“Are you okay?” Chase walked over and laid a hand on the cushion behind her head, so close to touching her she automatically became distracted.

“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Houses blow up around me every day.” She let out a shrill laugh, knowing she was still on the edge of hysteria despite the fact that a good two hours had passed since the explosion.

Rick strode to her side, but Chase placed himself between Sloane and his brother. “She’s had enough, Rick. Give her the night to rest and I can bring her by the station in the morning to sign any official statement.”

He acted as a protective barrier between her and the police and she appreciated his chivalry. But no matter how tight she was strung, she could deal with Rick and answer whatever questions Yorkshire Falls’ finest had. After all, she was Senator Michael Carlisle’s daughter, or at least he’d raised her. And one lesson her
parents
had taught her: The more forthcoming she was, the less she evaded, the more satisfied her interviewer would be.

“If the officer has more questions, I’m more than happy to
answer them,” she said, glancing around Chase so she could see Rick.

He shot her an appreciative glance and she really saw him for the first time. Although both Rick and Chase were good-looking men, the similarities ended there. With chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes, Rick would attract any female’s attention. But Chase, with his intense expression, incredible blue eyes, and that inky hair—he was the one she found all too sexy.

“Well?” Chase asked his brother, arms folded over his chest.

To her surprise, Rick shook his head at her offer to talk some more. “I think I have enough. For now.” He shoved his pad into his pocket and stepped to the side so he had an unobstructed view of her. “I just want to clarify one thing, if it’s okay with you?”

She curled her legs beneath her, ignoring the protest of her aching muscles. A hot bath would be heaven right now. “You said you came to Yorkshire Falls to visit your birth mother’s hometown?” Rick asked.

“That’s right.” She chewed on her lower lip, hating the fabrication she’d woven for the officer, but knowing she had no choice. “I wanted to visit some of her old friends and stomping grounds.”

“And Samson was an old friend?”

Here Sloane tread lightly. “My stepmother mentioned him briefly as someone who’d made an impact in Jacqueline’s life. He seemed worth looking up.” She raised her gaze and tried for her most honest look. As someone who’d snuck out a time or two past curfew, she’d perfected the expression.

“Which is how she came to Samson’s old house,” Chase concluded. “Case closed, Rick. Time for you to go.” He slapped his brother on the back as a blatant excuse to prod him toward the door.

Rick tipped his head toward her. “Talk to you tomorrow, Sloane.”

“Is that a polite expression for
don’t leave town
?” she asked wryly.

“Yes, ma’am.” He shot her a boyish grin and she wondered how many hearts he’d broken on the road to matrimony. She’d caught sight of the ring on his left hand, telling her some lucky woman had snagged the good-looking cop.

Which made her wonder about Chase. Was he involved with anyone prior to their interlude? Someone he’d continue to see now? She was surprised at how badly the thought bothered her.

As Chase escorted his brother to the door, Rick didn’t seem insulted. Based on the rest of the interaction she’d witnessed between the men, there was a genuine caring that underscored everything they said or did. A family bond. One Sloane could well understand, since she shared the same connection with her parents and sisters. She had no idea what kind of reception she’d find with her one family member here in Yorkshire Falls, and she shivered at the thought.

How long before she’d find out? Sloane wondered. She’d failed in her mission to find Samson, and in lying to Rick and Chase about why she was here, she’d probably made her search more difficult. These men just might be able to help her locate Samson. Diffuse whatever threat Michael’s men posed.

But to be truthful with them would entail a level of trust she didn’t yet possess. Not for the police officer or the journalist. Rick’s profession made him a wild card, and Chase was an enigma who could blow this story wide open.

She yawned, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn’t believe what she’d been through in the past couple of hours, but after being forced by Rick Chandler to relive the explosion, she was certain it hadn’t been a bad dream.

The door slammed shut and Chase reentered the room, his gaze keenly centered on hers. “We’re alone. Now tell me the real reason you’re searching for Samson, because I don’t believe that cock-and-bull story you told my brother.”

Sloane swallowed hard, gripping the fabric on the sofa with her hands. She hadn’t expected him to see through her charade. “I already told you. Twice, as I recall.”

He stalked toward her, braced his hands on the arm of her chair and leaned down so their faces were millimeters apart. She already knew what those lips tasted like. Her heartbeat sped up, and if he promised her a kiss, she’d probably cave into his demand for her to talk.

“I don’t buy your excuse, honey. During that night we spent together, you told me other things too. Personal, intimate things.”

“Such as?” Because at this moment, she could barely remember her own name. She licked her dry lips, gratified when his eyes followed the movement and dilated with desire. At least she wasn’t the only one teetering on the brink of sanity.

“You said your life was based on a lie, but you’d still be expected to do the right thing. Is Samson a part of that lie?” he asked, his serious yet oh-so-sexy gaze never leaving hers.

She wanted to confide in him more than she wanted her next breath. Maybe even more than she wanted him to kiss her, and that was saying a lot. But the working part of her brain, small as it had to be right now, prevailed. “Do you really expect me to answer your questions while most of mine go unanswered?”

“Honey, I’m an open book.” He rose, spreading his hands before him in a gesture of giving.

One she didn’t buy, not for an instant. The man was as big an enigma as when she’d met him in the bar. Still, if he was offering answers, she wanted them. “Did you know I’d be in town, and if so, how?” Because she and her stepmother had carefully covered her tracks as best they could.

“I’m going to opt for honesty here.” His blue eyes twinkled with a hint of mirth, but mostly with caution.

Whatever his secret, he was wary of revealing it.
Join the club,
she thought. “Honesty would be nice.”

“I met your stepmother at your father’s press conference.”

“That’s why you were in Washington? To cover the story?”

He nodded.

She shouldn’t be surprised, nor should she be disappointed he wanted news coverage about her father. Possibly about her family as well. She could see the headlines now: S
MALL
T
OWN
J
OURNALIST
L
EAPS TO
N
ATIONAL
P
ROMINENCE BY
E
XPOSING
S
ENATOR
C
ARLISLE
’
S
D
EEPEST
S
ECRETS
.
Thanks but no thanks,
she thought. She wasn’t about to contribute to Chase’s career coup.

“So then you came home.” She stretched her legs out, feeling the pull of muscle as she settled in for a continued series of questions. “Did you know I was in town?” She couldn’t imagine Madeline revealing such private, possibly dangerous information to a stranger, let alone a reporter.

He sat on the couch beside her chair, leaning close. So close she smelled the remnants of smoke mixed with the masculine aftershave she associated with Chase. It was a familiar, comforting scent in a time of complete chaos, and she found it difficult to maintain the distance she knew was necessary between them.

“I knew you were here. It seems that your stepmother and my sister-in-law Charlotte are good friends.”

She blinked, surprised at a family connection. “The Charlotte who owns the lingerie store here and in D.C.?”

He nodded. “She’s married to my brother Roman.”

“Good Lord, there’s another one of you?”

He chuckled, showing a flash of white teeth. “You got it, babe. Around here we’re known as ‘the Chandler boys.’ The three of us are grouped together. We always were.”

“Izzy mentioned you,” she recalled. “But you and I hadn’t exchanged last names, so I had no way of putting two and two together.” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks at the memory of how she’d come on to him in the bar. A stranger whom she’d let take her to bed. But he hadn’t felt like a stranger then, any more than he felt like one now.

Without warning, his hand came up to stroke her cheek. “Don’t go getting embarrassed on me. I have no regrets and I refuse to let you have any either.”

Soft yet callused, his fingertips caused an erotic tingling throughout her body and she felt the distinct puckering of her nipples beneath her shirt. “I can’t say I have any regrets either,” she admitted. Not even now, knowing who and what he was.

His reporter status hit her like a painful punch in the stomach. He might have saved her life, but he probably had an agenda. She forced herself to relax against the chair, sad at the reminder that he couldn’t be her Prince Charming, after all. “But even with no regrets, we have a lot more to deal with than a one-night stand that’s over.”

He flinched and
now
she had regrets. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She only sought to put up a barrier that would keep her family safe.

She sighed and forced her mind to deal with the still-unanswered questions. “So you met my stepmother, and she told you. . . what?” Sloane asked, not convinced Madeline would set a reporter on her tail.

“She told me that you were dealing with some difficult issues, needed time alone, and came home to find your mother’s roots.” He spoke matter-of-factly, no emotion, no caring, the wall she’d erected firmly in place.

If her heart hurt a little, she reminded herself it was for the best. “In other words, she asked you to look out for me,” Sloane guessed. That would be a typical response for Madeline, who’d given in too easily to Sloane’s request to travel here alone, without protection. She’d been planning a countermission of her own.

“In a nutshell, yes. And believe me, honey, once I put the pieces together of who you really were, it wasn’t a hardship to see you again.” Yet Chase didn’t even crack a smile. With the way she’d dismissed their one night, he obviously hated admitting he’d wanted to see her again. “But Madeline didn’t mention
Samson at all,” he continued. “And considering his house blew up and you were almost in it, I have a lot more questions. Starting with, what’s your connection to Samson Humphrey?”