Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (14 page)

“Please tell Sam that he’s in my thoughts,” Phoebe said, feeling guilty that she was only thinking about her sex life while Sam’s son was hurt and at the hospital.

“Will do, Phoebe.”

Lach reached around her and turned the knob, opening the door for her. Phoebe stepped over the threshold trying to ignore his manly scent, and normally when her stress level would come down a notch from just walking into her sanctuary, she remained tense when he walked in behind her. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see his face, not that it would give her insight into his emotions.

“Would you like a drink?” Phoebe removed her coat and cringed at the sound of her voice, so impersonal and detached. It was her way of keeping him at a distance, the way they agreed on, but she knew it made her come across as a bitch. She tried to soften her tone as she hung up her jacket. If they were ever given a chance to progress past this point, she wanted to make damn sure he at least was still attracted to her. “I can make some coffee. You hadn’t intended to be here this evening, so I’m sure the caffeine would be helpful.”

“No, thank you.” Lach’s voice came from the doorway and when Phoebe finally looked at him, she realized that he hadn’t shut the door. Her frustration mounted at their behavior. “I’ll take up Sam’s station. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any questions. I could see your concern for Kimmie earlier.”

“How long do you think it will be before we have the results?” Phoebe wrapped her arms around her waist, covering the patent leather black belt she wore to accent her dress. She used her fingers to grasp onto the thick material, hoping it would function as a restraint to keep her from reaching out to him. Her emotions felt scattered and she didn’t like it. “If this person didn’t hesitate to get that close to Kimmie, this might be more than just a pissed off asshole. I mean, if he placed it in the classroom instead of trying to get to her physically, he most certainly knows that she has protection, yet that didn’t cause him to reconsider making his threat.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that coffee,” Lach said, slowly closing the door behind him. She’d left the light on in the foyer, but with his tall frame, his face was still in shadow and she couldn’t see his expression. The light actually backlit his hair and gave him a kind of halo, making Phoebe stop and stare. He didn’t move until she did, and she made her way into the kitchen shaking her head slightly, flipping another switch and casting the room in a golden hue. “First, it might not be a he. Never assume. Two, he or she knows that Kimmie has protection because for the last month she’s had a large male as her shadow. Three, we all know that if the previous letters didn’t contain evidence to help us, this one is likely not to either.”

Phoebe felt more grounded as she went about making coffee, busying herself as she listened to what Lach had to say. He’d removed his jacket, revealing a brown leather holster and his weapon, reaffirming their situation and giving it a genuine threatening feel. She took a deep breath and hit the brew button, hoping he’d continue to talk to her and slowly drain her apprehension, making it a little less overwhelming.

“Have you and your father talked about who it could be?” Lach didn’t take a seat on the stool, but instead stood behind the tall seats with his arms crossed. It was probably for the best, knowing he’d probably take his cup of coffee and go back outside her door. “He seems to think it’s someone unrelated to the campaign, but I’m not so sure. This seems more personal.”

“Why would you say that?” Phoebe’s curiosity was peaked and she suddenly felt better, this brainstorming giving her what sitting alone couldn’t do. “Is there something more to the letter that you’re not telling us?”

“It goes without saying that handwritten letters are more intimate.” Lach said that last word in such a way that warmth spread throughout Phoebe’s body. She tried to focus on the conversation at hand, knowing how she heard it wasn’t how he’d intended. “Someone taking that much time and effort, assuring themselves that there is no trace evidence is a person who takes this very personally. Granted, he or she might not have had the capability that Victor Ward had in rerouting the IP address, but these letters take determination.”

“You think it’s someone working the campaign?” Phoebe thought over the list of volunteers and came up empty handed. “Cindy, Kate, Joe, Troy, and George are the latest recruits, but they’ve been vetted out by Mr. Crest. The other volunteers and paid employees have either worked on previous campaigns and have the experience we need or they were brought on board for other reasons. Those people have had a background check as well.”

“Just because we investigated everyone associated with your father’s campaign and came up with nothing doesn’t mean there
is
nothing. It just means that the person is good at hiding their motives and simply hasn’t been caught in the act yet.” Lach seemed to hesitate, but then continued. It didn’t take her long to figure out why he faltered on sharing more information with her. “Take your foundation, for instance. You’re taking a long leave of absence to help your father. Is there anyone there that voiced their concern?”

“I’m not naïve enough to think that Mr. Crest hasn’t investigated anyone and everyone associated with me, my sister, and my father.” Phoebe couldn’t help but scrunch her nose at what he was implying. She went about getting them two cups and placed them on the counter. “But if you’re asking if I think it’s someone in my mother’s foundation who would do that, then the answer is absolutely no. They are all honest people who want to help others and have all been doing so for a long time.”

“You say that a lot.”

Phoebe looked up when the tenor of Lach’s voice transformed into something sensual, and although she could feel the altered air, she wasn’t aware of why. She thought back over what she’d said. Was he speaking of her not being naïve? Had she said that before? Why would that have him viewing her differently?

“What do I say a lot?”

“If I’m not mistaken, the Crescent Heart Foundation is yours. Not your mother’s.”

Lach was taking their conversation and turning it to a more intimate subject. He had to be aware that to mention Phoebe’s mother brought back memories that were both happy and sad, taking her back in time and wanting nothing more than to extend the moments they’d had together as a family. Sharing anything in regards to her mom meant opening up to someone who’d already set boundaries.

“It is. I just still find it hard to accept it.”

Phoebe watched as Lach slowly dropped his arms and came around the island to stand next to her. Her fingers had still been touching the mugs, but he took them from underneath her hands and went about filling them to the brim. Having him this close made her breathing a little labored. He didn’t say anything as he went to the refrigerator and took out the flavored creamer she preferred. Pouring in the perfect amount, he then replaced the carton. Picking up both coffees, he then went into the living room, leaving her standing there slightly disconcerted.

“Is running the foundation not what you want to do?”

Phoebe followed behind and noticed that he’d set her cup down on the coaster in front of the sofa. He’d walked to the large balcony window overlooking the city, which was now blanketed in falling snow. It was hard to even see the buildings, although flickers of light would show through the flakes every now and then. She took a seat in the middle of the sofa, and although she wanted to unzip her boots, didn’t want Lach to think she was trying to garner his attention. Even though the conversation was hitting a little too close to home, she’d never known Lach to talk at this kind of length and found that she really enjoyed it.

“It is…I think.” Phoebe struggled to put into words what she’d felt over the years. “I wanted to keep that part of my mother alive, I guess, and it turned into something full time after I graduated college. I’d rather leave the office and paperwork to someone else and just spend my time out in the field, but it’s hard to find someone to do the job on the annual salary it pays out.”

“So you live off of your trust fund?” Lach leaned his shoulder against the windowpane, sipping his coffee as he looked at her for a response. There was no judgment on his face, although she found herself still searching his brown eyes for condemnation. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Really?” Phoebe asked, unable to hold back a laugh. She picked up her coffee and sank back into the cushions. “This is coming from the man who called me a spoiled little rich girl?”

“Hmmm—I might have jumped to a few conclusions,” Lach replied, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Phoebe’s heart rate accelerated and her hand trembled, sending her coffee very close to the edge of her cup. “It’s rare, although it does happen from time to time.”

“I can understand that, especially when you lost men on that mission.” Phoebe felt a lump form in her throat in remembering the events leading up to that fateful moment. “I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to—”

“Phoebe, I know that you and those that work at the foundation never intended to get caught up with the rebels and used for extortion purposes. The work we do, the nature of the beast, involves risks that we agreed to and understand from personal experiences.” Lach looked down into his black coffee, giving Phoebe a sense that he wasn’t only talking about what took place in Africa. “It doesn’t make it any easier, but knowing you were helping children get the medical care they need to survive does count for something. The one thing that I hope you took out of that was to ensure that you take every precaution for your missionary team with the right security going forward so that losing human lives only to save others doesn’t occur again needlessly.”

“I have changed the security firm that Crescent uses, per your suggestion,” Phoebe admitted, wanting him to know she didn’t take the sacrifices of those men for granted. “We also use locals, depending on the area. Iraq went well, but it was my last one for a while.”

“Watching you these past weeks has made me see that you work hard, but that effort is always on someone else’s behalf.” Lach took a drink of his coffee, looking quite comfortable where he was. Normally, Phoebe would be uneasy with someone standing while she was sitting, but not with him. “So what is it that you truly want to do for yourself?”

“Let someone else do the hard tedious work in the office while I get to go out into the field and do the truly rewarding work,” Phoebe admitted honestly, pulling her boot clad legs up underneath her. There was something quite calming with their conversation and she found that she wanted to share more of herself. “Seeing the faces on those mothers who thought their children might die without food, water, or medication gives me great personal satisfaction.”

“But no one has the connections or the dedication to bring in the monetary funds like you do.” Lach pointed out the obvious, nodding his head slightly as if he understood. “I hope that after your father becomes President that you get your wish. However, somehow I doubt you will have that freedom. Use that time for yourself and find something personally satisfying and a bit more safe.”

“You make it sound like my dad’s a shoo-in for commander in chief.” Phoebe believed her father would make an excellent leader, but politics wasn’t solely about that. “He’s been going to debate after debate, and yes, the polls show he’s the top runner of the party. If he gets past the primaries and it comes to election time, it’ll be a close vote. And yes, maybe afterward I’ll use that time to find someone with enough experience to run Crescent. What I’d really like to do is spend time with you, but we can come back to that. You know more about me than I do about you and that’s not quite fair.”

Lach’s rich laughter filled the air and Phoebe couldn’t help but smile back. She figured he might feel she was coming on too strong, but it wasn’t like they didn’t know how the other felt. This attraction, this chemistry, this sensual bubble they’d created wasn’t going away and both of them knew they were waiting for the right time. There was no doubting that he had a dominant personality and she had enough courage within herself to stand up to that challenge.

“What would you like to know, Little Miss Socialite? And just for the record, I meant what I said about me making the rules.”

“Everything.” Phoebe ignored his taunt because she felt like she’d turned into a sponge and was about to be placed underneath a faucet. She’d never seen him in this frame of mind, and as exhausting as today had been, she would have easily stayed up another twenty-four hours had it meant he would share something of himself with her. “Parents? Siblings? Childhood?”

“Let’s see,” Lach said, lifting his shoulder off of the windowpane and walking over to the cushioned chair opposite her. His large frame took up every inch of space as he sat on the edge and placed his coffee cup on a coaster. “My parents live in Northern California and are very happily married, even after forty plus years. My brother is in the Navy while my sister is a triage nurse—both of them live not far from where we grew up. I’m the only one who strayed.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Phoebe said softly, in awe of all the things she still wanted to know. She needed to know. It was rather ridiculous, but she couldn’t imagine what his parents were like. “Are you the oldest?”

“Why, yes ma’am.” Lach touched two fingers to his forehead and gave her a pretend salute. Phoebe couldn’t help but laugh and truly wanted this conversation to last throughout the late afternoon and into the evening. “I made sure my brother knew how to take care of himself if I wasn’t around and I protected my sister from scumbags who looked at her twice. Five years in the Corps. I was an all American in football through my senior year of college at UC Davis, all the way on my own dime through the GI bill and scholarships after the Corps.”

“What do your parents do?” Phoebe noticed that she hadn’t taken a sip of her coffee. Doing so now, she grimaced at the cool liquid and then set it back down. “Or are they retired?”

“They own a vineyard.” Lach waved a hand as if that wasn’t a big deal, but it fascinated Phoebe. “It’s not what they portray in the movies, Phoebe. It’s hard work. Menial work. As a family, we all pitched in from sunup to sundown in the summers. Even during the school year our asses were up before dawn.”