A Guilty Affair (16 page)

“Good to know.” Clearing her throat, she pointedly shuffled papers on her desk. “Was there anything else you wanted? If not, I have a lot of work to do before I leave at five.”

“Actually,” Noah murmured, “I do want something from you.”

The way he said it, in that low, silky baritone, made Riley's pulse accelerate. As carnal images rolled through her mind, she strove to maintain her composure. “What is it?”

“I want you to go out on surveillance with me this afternoon.”

“What? Why?”

He chuckled softly at her stricken expression. “Because my brother thinks it's time for you to be shown the ropes.”

“But…
today?
”

He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Today's as good a day as any.”

“Not really. Like I said, I have a ton of work to do and—”

“Riley.”

“What?”

There was a hint of steel beneath the smile he gave her. “It wasn't a request.”

Riley opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut, opting to glare at him instead.

Unfazed, he chuckled again and slowly straightened from the doorway. “Be ready to go in half an hour.”

With that, he turned and sauntered from the room.

When Riley climbed into the nondescript sedan parked outside the office building thirty minutes later, she was still seething with indignation. She didn't appreciate being manhandled by Noah, boss or not. It was a rather bad habit of his that would have to be nipped in the bud.

He was speaking quietly on the cell phone and barely glanced at her as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. He started the car and backed out of the parking space, and within minutes they were headed north on I-35.

“Sorry about that,” Noah said as he got off the phone. “Anxious client.”

Riley nodded shortly. “Where, exactly, are we going?”

“To Joseph Stanton's workplace. He's supposed to get off at four. We're gonna tail him to see if he goes straight home.”

Despite her annoyance with Noah, Riley couldn't help feeling a twinge of excitement at the idea of being on her first surveillance assignment. It was the same rush she felt when chasing a hot lead for one of her stories.

Noah's mouth twitched as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, I figured you might change your tune about accompanying me once we were out on the road,” he drawled.

Riley scowled. “That doesn't excuse your high-handedness, Noah. Just for the record, you don't have to order me around to get what you want.”

He inclined his head slightly. “You're right.” Before Riley could gloat over the concession, he added, “Next time I'll just pick you up, throw you over my shoulder and carry you out to the car.”

Riley gasped. Without thinking, she reached over and punched him on the arm.

“Ouch! Hey, you can't hit me. I'm your boss.”

“So fire me!” she hissed.

Noah looked at her, took in the ferocious expression on her face, then threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Huffing out a sigh of disgust, Riley crossed her arms and leaned back in the seat. But she wasn't entirely immune to the rumble of his deep, husky laughter, and it wasn't long before she found herself fighting the tug of a grin.

When Noah's mirth had subsided, he shook his head and smiled at her. “You're priceless, Riley Kane. I never knew you had such a temper.”

“Yeah, well, there's a lot about me you don't know,” she grumbled.

“True enough.” Their eyes met briefly, then slid away.

Silence stretched between them until Noah reached over and turned up the volume on the CD player. As John Coltrane's “I Want to Talk About You” filled the interior of the car, Riley was flooded with vivid memories of coupling frantically with Noah on the pool table with the seductive wail of the sax in the background. As heat pooled in her belly, she clamped her thighs together and turned her face to the window.

Soon Noah exited onto a busy downtown street and parked two blocks down from a small glass office building.

“Stanton is a maintenance worker for the property-management company located inside that building,” Noah explained as he threw the car in Park, cut the engine and buzzed down the windows to let in a cool summer breeze. “He drives a beige Chrysler three hundred with tags that read NO AVG JOE, so he shouldn't be hard to spot. He gets off at four, so we've got another twenty-five minutes to wait for him to pull out from the rear parking lot.”

Riley nodded, peering through the windshield. “Should we get closer?” At Noah's vaguely amused look, she clarified, “To the building, I mean.”

“I know what you meant, and no, we shouldn't get any closer. We don't wanna risk detection.”

“Do you think Joseph Stanton knows his wife has hired a private investigator?”

“It's possible,” Noah said, leaning back in his seat. “I always advise my clients not to do anything to alert their spouses to the fact that they're being investigated. Don't change your habits, don't ask too many questions about their activities, and never, ever, threaten to hire an investigator.”

“Shouldn't that last one be obvious?”

“You'd be amazed how many people, especially women, blurt out threats like that in the middle of a heated argument. It makes it that much harder for us to monitor a cheating spouse who already suspects he—or she—is being watched.”

“No kidding,” Riley murmured. Absently she reached inside her purse and dug out a box of Hot Tamales, which she held out to Noah. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.” He grinned as she began munching on the cinnamon-flavored candy. “You look like you're sitting courtside at a Spurs game. Are you enjoying this, Riley?”

“Not really. Are you?”

“About as much as I'd enjoy a root canal.” At her surprised look, he said grimly, “Believe it or not, domestic surveillance cases are my least favorite. I hate having to break the news to my client that their spouse is indeed cheating, especially when you throw children into the equation. It's a lose-lose situation for everyone involved.”

Riley observed his stony profile. “So why do you take domestic surveillance cases if you hate them so much?”

A shadow of cynicism touched his mouth. “It's part of the services we offer. And, yes, it helps pay the damn bills.”

“Hey, I'm not judging you.” She smiled ruefully. “There were times, back when I was at the
Houston Chronicle
, that I hated being an investigative reporter. I had to be pushy and obnoxious just to get the scoop, which meant I often crossed the line and intruded on people's lives at a time when they needed their privacy the most, like after they'd suffered a devastating tragedy.” Idly she ran a finger down the pleat of her cream-colored slacks. “I've never told anyone this, and I'll kill you if you breathe a word to anyone, but there were days I used to go home and cry myself to sleep because I felt so horrible about the kind of work I did.”

Noah had stopped staring through the windshield and was now watching her quietly.

“It's true,” Riley said with a shaky little laugh. “I was a barracuda reporter by day and a weeping willow by night. And then one day I received a letter from this sixteen-year-old girl whose parents had been murdered a year earlier. She told me that my articles on the murders had helped the police solve the case and find the real killer. She actually thanked me for being such a good reporter. Can you believe it?”

“I can,” Noah said softly. “You are a good reporter.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “I keep that letter in a special place in my office. Every time I begin to question the integrity of what I do, I pull out the letter and read it over and over again until I feel better.” Her smile softened. “And wouldn't you know it? That sixteen-year-old girl is now a prelaw major at Howard University in Washington, D.C. We get together once a month for lunch or a trip to a museum or to see a play. She's like the little sister I never had.”

When she'd finished speaking, Noah said huskily, “That's an incredible story, Riley.”

“I think so, too.” She laughed, waving a hand beneath her eyes. “Okay, you have to stop looking at me like that, Noah, or I'm going to embarrass myself by blubbering like an idiot. And then you'd never take me on another surveillance assignment.”

He chuckled softly, but glanced away as she'd asked.

After a few moments, Riley said, “What percentage of your clients' spouses are actually proved to be cheaters?”

“Hmm. About eighty-five percent of the men, less than forty-percent of the women. But we don't get a lot of husbands wanting to investigate their wives, so those numbers are skewed.”

Riley nodded, leaning her head back on the headrest and studying him from beneath her eyelashes. “But I'm sure it still holds true that men are more likely to cheat than women.”

“That's probably an accurate assessment.”

“Why do you think that is, Noah? Why do men cheat?”

His mouth twitched. “I can't speak on behalf of all men, Riley.”

“All right, then. Speak on your own behalf. Have you ever cheated on a woman?”

He scowled. “Can we please concentrate on keeping an eye out for Stanton?”

She chuckled. “We have fifteen more minutes. And you're avoiding my question. Have you ever cheated on a woman, Noah?”

He turned his head slowly to meet her curious gaze. “Not intentionally.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he said softly, “you can cheat on your girlfriend without ever touching another woman. You can cheat in your heart by wanting something else—someone else—and not being fully committed to the person you're with.”

As Riley stared at him, she wondered if he was thinking about Kimberly, the woman he'd dated for five months, according to Lety. Had he had an affair of the heart that led to his breakup with Kimberly? Was that what she'd meant when she told others Noah was holding out for a perfect woman that didn't exist?

Before she could probe further, Noah turned away. As she watched, his lips curved in a sardonic half smile. “So what about you, Riley? Have you ever cheated?”

She shook her head, feeling inexplicably off balance. “No, I never have.”

“Not even in your heart?”

“Not even there.”

“Good for you,” he murmured, but there was something beneath his words, a subtle edge she couldn't begin to define.

Turning her head, she looked out the window. After another moment, she said quietly, “Did Trevor ever tell you about the time he almost cheated on me?”

When Noah said nothing, she glanced over at him. The muscle ticking in his jaw gave her the answer she needed.

“Of course you knew,” she said mildly. “He was your best friend. The two of you must have shared everything with each other. So he told you about the night he got mad at me after I'd turned down his marriage proposal the first time? He told you how he was so devastated he went to a nightclub and picked up the hottest girl he could find, then took her back to his apartment intending to get back at me by sleeping with her?”

When Noah remained silent, Riley chuckled humorlessly. “I'll never forget being awakened at three o' clock in the morning by a loud pounding on the front door. It was Trevor, and he was bawling his eyes out and rambling about what a stupid fool he'd been. At first I thought he was drunk. But then he took my hand and led me over to the sofa, and proceeded to tell me how he'd taken a beautiful woman home to punish me for turning down his proposal. But he couldn't go through with it, because every time he went to touch her, all he wanted was me. He got down on his knees that night, tears and all, and
begged
me to forgive him for almost destroying the best thing that had ever happened to him. I honestly didn't know whether to send him packing or put him on a suicide watch.” Shaking her head, she slanted Noah a teasing, albeit wobbly grin. “Do you know you're the main reason I stayed with Trevor?”

Noah whirled around to stare at her. “
What
did you just say?”

A little taken aback by his reaction, Riley forced a laugh that sounded strangled to her own ears. “Well, I always figured that if Trevor was really unstable, you probably wouldn't have remained his best friend all those years. Because you always seemed so…normal.”

“Normal,” Noah echoed flatly.

“Yes. Don't make it sound like a bad thing, Noah. Believe me, it was good. Your friendship with Trevor was my litmus test, of sorts. In that moment, when he was on his knees sobbing hysterically and begging my forgiveness for a transgression he supposedly hadn't committed, I told myself, ‘Okay, he can't be dangerous or psychotic because his best friend is the sanest, most levelheaded guy I know, and if something were seriously off about Trevor, Noah would've told me a long time ago.”