Love on Trial (5 page)

“D
on't be such a damned little prude!” Hawke groaned irritably, reading the expression on her face. “I imagine your door has a lock, if you're that unnerved about sharing a suite with me.”

“I didn't say a word,” she countered, following him into the plush bedroom with its double bed where he set her case on the floor.

“You were thinking it,” he said flatly. He studied her through narrowed eyelids.

“I was thinking what a trouble-making busybody your secretary is,” she threw at him, eyes blazing. “How is this going to look if Mark finds out—and I'll bet you she'll find a way to make sure he's told!”

“I don't give a damn what he thinks,” he said calmly.

“I do!”

He drew a deep, angry breath. “I came down here to work, Siri, not to have a running battle with you. Get your bathing suit on and we'll go down to the beach. Maybe the cold water will douse some of that hot temper before it triggers mine,” he added roughly.

She shook back her hair. “I'm not trying to start an argument,” she said apologetically. “Please, let's not quarrel.”

“Why? Are you admitting that you're outgunned?” he asked.

Her eyes blazed. “Never!”

A wisp of a smile touched his hard
mouth. “I play to win, Siri,” he said as he went out the door.

“If it's going to be war, you'll have to fly me to Fort Sumter,” she called after him.

“So you can fire off the cannon?” he replied. He chuckled softly. “I think I'll take you to Charleston one day, and let you see the size of those old cannons.”

“Gessie wouldn't like that,” she said cattily.

He looked back at her from the doorway. “Push a little harder,” he invited softly, “and I'll put you on the first charter flight leaving for Atlanta.”

She glared at him. “We just got here!”

“Then behave, if you want to stay,” he threatened, his eyes glittering.

She dropped her eyes to the carpet. “I'm not a child,” she muttered.

“That,” he replied heavily, “is the problem. Get your bathing suit on.” And he left her standing there as he closed the door firmly.

 

It was her first bikini, although not her first two-piece bathing suit. But the thought of Hawke seeing her in the wispy, aqua bits of string-tied fabric made her uneasy. It would have been different with Mark, she thought, as she gathered her towel and started into the sitting room. Mark had a habit of never noticing what she wore. But Hawke's dark eyes spoke volumes when he saw her in anything particularly feminine. She wondered for an instant why she'd packed the bikini in the first place. It had been a last-minute whim, one that she regretted as she opened the door and walked into the sitting room.

Hawke was wearing a green, and blue patterned shirt unbuttoned over his bronzed chest, with a pair of white swimming trunks that left his powerful thighs bare. He had a towel over one shoulder and a lit cigarette in his hand. When he heard her door open, he turned from the
window, his eyes openly interested, quiet, speculative as they traced deliberately every soft line and curve of her body in a silence that literally smouldered.

“God!” he breathed.

She blushed, feeling vaguely undressed by the look he was giving her. “I…I'm not used to this much bare skin,” she murmured, trying to keep her own eyes off that hard, husky body with its taut brown skin and its covering of black, curling hair.

“That makes two of us,” he said tightly. “Have you got a beach jacket?” he added harshly.

“Yes, but…”

“Then go get the damned thing and put it on!” he growled, turning back to the window.

“Yes,
sir!
” she breathed venomously. She went back into her room and shouldered into a thigh-length white terry cloth jacket, buttoning it up to her chin. She
marched back into the sitting room with a towel held in a strangling grip.

“I'm ready when you are,” she called over her shoulder, opening the door to march down the corridor, not caring whether or not he was following.

It was like being five again and having her father sling orders at her, she thought, feeling quite embarrassed. She found one bare spot on the beach, ignoring the blistering heat of the sand on her tender feet, and spread her big beach towel a few yards from the noisy surf. She slammed herself down onto it on her belly, pulling her dark glasses down to cover the hurt in her eyes. She didn't notice the children playing around her, building sandcastles and hunting sand crabs, or the couples wandering up and down in the surf. She felt crushed inside.

A movement beside her attracted her attention. Hawke spread down his own towel and lazily stretched out on his
back, sunglasses hiding the expression in his eyes.

“Are you through having a tantrum?” he asked.

“Not quite,” she replied tightly, pushing up on an elbow and facing him.

“When you are, you might consider taking off that jacket so the sun can get to you,” he observed.

“You were the one who insisted I put it on,” she reminded him sweetly.

He rolled over on his side, and she felt his eyes burning her. His hand went out to the top button of her beach jacket, undoing it with a deftness and sensuality that made her pulse race. Her breath was coming in quick and unsteady bursts.

“Do you have any idea,” he asked softly, undoing the second button, “what it does to a man to look at a sweet young body and know that it's never been touched before?”

She felt the blush run the length of her as he finished the last button and leaned
over to ease it off her shoulder. His fingers lingered for a moment on the creamy skin at her collarbone.

“I'm not immune to you, little virgin,” he said in a deep, soft tone. “I may be over the hill in your young eyes, but my instincts are in excellent condition, and I still respond like a healthy male. Don't trust those seventeen years to keep you chaste, Siri. I can lose my head just like any other man. Especially,” he added quietly, “when you encourage me to lose it.”

“I don't know what you mean!” she whispered unsteadily.

“Yes, you do.” He rolled over onto his back. “You put that bikini on deliberately, sparrow.”

She closed her eyes and lay back down on her stomach. She wanted to deny it, but he'd have seen through the lie, and she knew it.

“It's perfectly normal, Siri,” he murmured lazily. “You're young enough to
want to test your ability to attract men. Just don't test it on me.”

“I'm sorry,” she said in a strangled tone. “I think I must be going crazy.”

“You're only growing up, little girl,” he replied, “and it's about time. Stop brooding about it.”

“I'm not brooding, I'm embarrassed,” she admitted tightly.

He reached out and caught her hand where it lay on the towel, pressing it gently. “Nothing you could do would embarrass me. But if you try to seduce me, I'll put you over my knee. I think too much of Jared to play fast and loose with his daughter.”

“You aren't mad at me?” she asked hesitantly.

He smiled. “No, honey.” He let go of her hand, shifting as two little boys leapt over his legs. “Watch out,” he warned her with a chuckle.

She dodged the little feet just in time.
“I was afraid somebody was going to walk on me,” she murmured.

“It's human nature,” he remarked.

“What is?”

“The urge to step on people when they lie down and ask for it,” he replied, amusement in his deep voice.

“You'll probably never feel it,” she remarked, studying the size and powerful masculinity of his husky form. His legs were broad and powerful. He had a natural bronze tan that had nothing to do with sunlight. Muscular, masculine, he drew a woman's eyes like a magnet. He was vividly exciting in swimming trunks, especially compared with the skinny white bodies of most of the other men on the beach.

“You're staring, baby,” he said suddenly, and she turned her face away with a flush of embarrassment.

“I was thinking,” she corrected hotly.

“You must think a hell of a lot these days,” came the bland reply.

She shifted restlessly on her towel. “Where do we start looking for your witness?” she asked, attempting to change the subject.

“In the hotel bar,” he replied lazily. “I hope you've got your driver's license with you. Right now you look about sixteen.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” she muttered.

“A little bit of both, sparrow.” He stretched his big arms above his head and sighed. “God, I needed this! I can't remember a rougher week.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied. “Remember that controversy about the ambulance service not answering a call, when that teenager almost bled to death? Bill sent me to get the story.”

“Did they fry you?” he asked.

“With onions,” she sighed. “I felt two inches high when I walked out. It wasn't one of the regular ambulance service technicians who answered the call and re
fused to make it; it was a cocky young rookie who only signed on for a few weeks during a break in his schedule. He was fired the day after the incident. But nobody told us that.” She again sighed wearily. “I hate this stinking business sometimes. Those men care, Hawke. Most of them really care, and they don't make fortunes, either. They do a thankless job and the only publicity they ever get is when something like this happens. They get crucified for their mistakes, by well-meaning people like me.”

“If you didn't do it, who would?” he asked quietly, slanting a glance in her direction. “The taxpayers are entitled to know how their funds are being spent or misspent. That's what your job is all about, Siri, observing and reporting, not judging. And for objectivity, on a scale of ten, I'd give you a nine plus.”

That made her smile. “Thanks. But I still feel like a 14K creep.” She sat up on the towel, folding her arms around her
raised knees, leaning her chin on them. “Hawke, who are we looking for?”

“No notebook?” he commented drily. He then watched her dig in her beach bag and produce a small pad and a pen.

“Okay, shoot,” she said smugly.

He smiled as he lit a cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Do you carry it into the tub?” he asked.

“Sure!”

He raised an eyebrow. “As to who we're looking for, remember when the landlady was rousted out of bed at three in the morning to open the door to Devolg's room for that ‘concerned friend'?”

“The one who mysteriously disappeared when the landlady got the door open and found Devolg, lying on his bed stabbed to death?” she replied.

“The same.”

“Hawke, is that who we're looking for?” she asked excitedly.

“Let's just say I've got a hunch who
the man was, and I've a contact here who may be able to unravel the mystery for me,” he said solemnly. He took another draw from his cigarette. “If I'm right,” he mused with a dark smile, “it's going to blow one big hole in the prosecution's case.”

“You think the boy is innocent?” she asked.

“My God, Siri, would I have taken the case if I thought he wasn't?” he asked harshly.

“I never try to second-guess you,” she replied. “It's not worth the wear and tear on my nerves. Are you going to give me a name?”

“What do you think, honey?” he asked nonchalantly.

“I think hell will freeze over first.”

“Shrewd perception.”

“If you're not going to tell me anything, why did you agree to let me come along?” she asked, peering at him over the top of her pad.

His head turned toward her, but she couldn't see his eyes through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He didn't say a word, but she felt vaguely uneasy.

“Hawke, what will you do if the prosecution gets to your mystery man first?”

Both dark eyebrows went up. “What do you think they'd do, bump him off? Honest to God, Jared needs to take those detective novels away from you.”

She shrugged. “James Bond…” she began.

“…is a remarkable piece of fiction, but fiction, nevertheless. Why,” he asked himself, “
did
I bring you along?”

“Because you promised Dad.” A mischievous smile touched her pink bow of a mouth. “Hawke, can I play in the sand now? Will you buy me a bucket and a shovel?”

His chiseled lips made a thin line as his head turned once again in her direction. “Aren't you a little old for these kind of games?” he asked shortly.

She felt whipped. “Can't I even tease you, for Pete's sake?” she asked irritably.

“Not that kind of teasing, no!” he growled.

“You're as touchy as a sunburned water moccasin,” she grumbled.