Love Remains (38 page)

“I hope it won’t be.”

“So do I.”

Bobby left the office shortly after Chase departed, taking the most recent file from Jill home with him, unwilling to leave it in his office—even in his locked file cabinet.

The condo, with boxes in every corner and space where furniture would eventually go, wasn’t the relaxing environment he hoped it would be soon. But he wouldn’t have been able to relax tonight anyway. He powered up the laptop, got online, and ordered a pizza before navigating his way through the cardboard jungle to his bedroom to change clothes.

He had to imitate a hurdler to get to his phone when it rang, silently reprimanding himself for leaving it in the office.

“Hello?”

“Dude—you coming tonight or what?”

“Mack? I—” Bobby looked at his watch. Seven thirty. “No. I’m not going to make it. Something came up at work.” Understatement of the millennium.

“Okay. We’ll catch you next time.”

“Thanks, Patrick.” He ended the call and tossed the phone on the desk, then sank into the chair to put on his trainers.

The file lay there in the middle of the rustic oak desk, staring at him, daring him, accusing him. Rather than think about the issues it raised, Bobby ripped open the top of the nearest box labeled O
FFICE
and started unpacking.

Six hours—and four antacids—later, he dropped into bed,
physically exhausted. He’d unpacked and organized the entire office, including setting up his personal files in the bottom three drawers of the tall filing cabinet that matched his desk, leaving the top drawer for any sensitive information he might bring home from work.

The accusatory file lay locked in it right now.

He turned and stared at the glass door leading to the curved wrap-around balcony. Two choices lay before him like a fork in the road. He could put things on hold with Zarah until he completed the investigation—meaning charges filed and arrest warrants served. Or he could pull himself from the case, hand it over to someone else, and risk his career and reputation.

He lost something either way.

Sleep did not come. Around seven o’clock, he dragged himself out of the bed, donned sweats and an army T-shirt, and went down to the fitness room to use one of their treadmills, since his still needed to be assembled. Running helped organize his thoughts and boosted his energy level—for the first four miles. He stopped at six miles, returned to the condo, and took a long shower.

Though he didn’t usually indulge, today warranted coffee. But which box contained the coffeemaker?

Eight boxes later, he’d found both the machine and the carafe. Now…coffee grounds. He rummaged through the bags of groceries sitting on the pantry floor and finally unearthed the pound of store-brand breakfast blend he’d picked up the other day “just in case.”

He pulled the eggs and bacon off the top shelf of the almost-empty fridge. In which box had he seen the skillet?

With no other options, Bobby sat on the kitchen floor to eat his breakfast. Would his life be as easy to organize as his condo?

At precisely eleven o’clock, a knock sounded on the door. Bobby rinsed the plate and set it on the paper towels spread beside the sink, then quickly dried his hands before opening the door.

Zarah’s hair bloomed in a pile of haphazard curls from the top of a clip at the back of her head, and even in faded jeans and a James
Robertson University long-sleeved T-shirt, she was a splendid sight.

“Come in.” He opened the door wide and stepped aside for her to enter.

“I brought you something.” Her blue eyes twinkled, and she pulled her left hand from behind her back to reveal a basket—loaded with cleaning sprays and powders, rubber kitchen gloves, and scrub brushes and sponges in a variety of sizes. “Happy housewarming.”

Of course, she would bring a gift.
Thanks. Just compound the guilt
. “I appreciate it, but you know you didn’t have to.”

“I know.” She held the basket out toward him until he took it from her.

He carried the basket into the kitchen and put it under the sink for now. Taking a deep breath, he straightened and turned to face her. “I need to tell you something.”

His words echoed in Zarah’s voice, and they gaped at each other for a long moment.

He inclined his head. “Ladies first.”

“Senator Warren came to see me yesterday.”

Okay, she definitely had his attention. He paced the kitchen while she told him about Warren’s suggestion she back off the injunction next week before the judge.

Another wrinkle. And exactly what he needed to make his decision.

“So, what do you think?” Zarah prompted when he didn’t respond at the end of her story.

“I’ve been investigating the MTHPC.” Um…not exactly how he’d meant to tell her, but fatigue wreaked havoc with the logic center of his brain.

Zarah grabbed the edge of the counter. “What?”

He told her about the assignment, the choice he’d had to take it or pass on it, and the reason he’d chosen to handle it himself. “I took the case to protect you—to clear your name and make sure no one could place any blame on you.”

“You…you investigated
me?
How much—what did you look at?” Patches of bright pink flamed in her cheeks.

“Total background and financial records check. Our forensic accountant reviewed your financial records. I only saw the final report with her conclusions and a few pieces of the raw data. I handled your background check. I didn’t want anyone else doing that. It felt like enough of a violation with me doing it.”

Her throat worked as if she was having trouble swallowing.
“Violation
is a good word.” She rubbed her forehead. “But I guess you had to do what you had to do. And have I been cleared or are you going to arrest me?”

He wanted to go to her, to draw her into his arms, to take back everything he’d just said so she wouldn’t be ill-disposed toward him from the information he’d dropped on her. “You’ve been cleared. Way cleared.”

“That’s good to hear. And do I get to know anything else about the investigation?”

“Don’t drop the injunction. Unless you truly feel it’s the right thing to do.”

She nodded but didn’t respond.

“As for the continuing investigation, you have nothing to worry about for yourself.”

Zarah knelt down and started pulling dishes out of the box on the floor beside her. “You sound like there’s something else you want to tell me.”

He crossed the kitchen in two steps and crouched beside her, staying her hands by wrapping his loosely around her wrists. “Zarah, until I finish this investigation…”

Comprehension, followed by understanding, filled her sky blue eyes. “You have to put us on hold to avoid the appearance of a conflict of interest.”

He sat hard on the tile floor, shocked at her easy grasp of the situation. “We can still be around each other—I mean, we do go to
the same church and our grandmothers are best friends. I don’t think we can avoid each other. But as far as dating…I am so sorry. If I’d known—”

She pressed a hand to his mouth. “You still would have taken the case, because you are a man of integrity who wants to see justice served. I don’t want you to ever compromise your values and ethics because of me. We did that before—lied and sneaked around—and it didn’t turn out well, when we could have waited a few months until the time was right.” She gave him a gentle smile. “I’ve waited fourteen years. I can wait a little longer.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can stand to wait. I want to marry you.” Mortification burned his neck and face. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out.

She rubbed her thumb over his lips. “I’ll pray even harder that your investigation ends quickly.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Her hand moved, and she trailed her fingertips along his jaw. “I know.”

Chapter 28

O
oh, he makes me so mad.” The door into the screened porch slapped shut behind Flannery.

Zarah dragged her gaze from Bobby to Flannery. The blond bombshell clasped her hands in front of her and shook them as if throttling someone. Zarah had thought inviting Flannery to come to the cookout today—the cookout that seemed to have been painstakingly planned by her grandparents, Sassy, and the Pattersons and scheduled for a Saturday when Zarah, Caylor, and Bobby could all attend—would be fun, so that Flannery wouldn’t feel left out. Now, she wondered if it had been the right choice for Flannery.

“Who?”

“That…that
man
. That Jamie guy.” She threw a dirty look over her shoulder toward the house. “He’s the short one who came with—oh, what’s her name, the redheaded lady.”

“Maureen.”

“He calls her Cookie.
Cookie!
Can you believe it? Why not
dollface
or
babycakes?”

Zarah’s laugh turned into a snort. “That’s rich, coming from you. You call your grandfather Big Daddy. I think Cookie is a cute grandma nickname.”

“Yeah, well, if Big Daddy could have been here, he would have shown that Jamie character what’s what.”

“You know, you didn’t have to come today.”

“Well, it’s your fault for inviting me. You and Caylor.” Flannery crossed her arms and put on her best pout face.

Zarah rolled her eyes and returned to staring through the screen toward the men gathered around the grill on the other end of the large porch that stretched from both sides of this screened portion to wrap around the entirety of Melinda and Greely Patterson’s large Victorian.

Her gaze met Bobby’s. For a delicious moment, the world stood still. Then Pops said something to Bobby, and he broke eye contact.

“How’s the not-having-any-contact thing going?” Flannery spoke in a low tone.

“It’s been two weeks since he told me. He’s putting in so much overtime on the case that it’s doing a fair job of keeping us apart.”

“Is he going to stop coming to church, or are the two of you going to alternate weeks as to who’ll be there and who won’t?”

“No—nothing like that. We’re going to continue with all of our normal activities and get to at least see each other that way. We just can’t officially date until”—Zarah glanced around to make sure no one would overhear her, and, seeing no one near their secluded spot in the screened porch, still lowered her voice—”he finishes his investigation.”

Not running to him and throwing her arms around him as soon as she’d arrived at the Pattersons’ house an hour ago for the multi-family cookout had been torture.

The door from the kitchen slammed, making them both whirl around. Caylor stomped toward them, tea sloshing over the rims of three red plastic cups. “Next time y’all want something to drink, you’re going in to get it yourselves. I thought I’d never get away from Mr. Science Guy.”

“Which one is that?” Zarah took one of the cups from the fuming
redhead. She didn’t really need to ask. If Jamie was the short one, Mr. Science Guy had to be—

“The tall one with the curly hair and the pimply neck. I know, that’s a horrible thing to say, and I’m sorry”—she looked up at the ceiling—”but I didn’t think he’d ever stop talking about the theoretical physics experiments he’s involved with over at Vandy.”

Yep. Zarah had pegged him as Vanderbilt University type.

“What I want to know is how it’s Zarah who managed to be the first one of the three of us to snag a hot guy when she’s the one who never dates. She kisses one frog, and he turns into a handsome prince. I’ve kissed a pondful of frogs, and all I have to show for it is a past full of toads.” Caylor twisted her face into a comically pained expression.

Zarah laughed despite the longing eating away at her. “I haven’t managed to snag him yet. Remember, we can’t date—”

Flannery waved her hands dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You can’t date until he closes his investigation, blah, blah, blah.”

Zarah tried to shush her, reaching to cover Flannery’s mouth, glancing around to make sure no one would hear.

Flannery pushed Zarah’s hands away, but she did lower her voice. “You have the guarantee that as soon as he
does
close the case, he’s going to be knocking on your door.”

Zarah arched a brow. “Or maybe I’ll be knocking on his.”

“Ooh-la-la, a modern woman.” Caylor fanned herself with her hands, as if about to faint. “Flannery, I think we finally have had an effect on our dear Zarah.”

The kitchen door opened again, and Kiki joined them. “Zarah, dear, may I steal you away for a moment?”

“Sure.” She excused herself from her friends and followed Kiki out of the screened portion of the porch opposite from where the men supervised the grill.

Kiki lowered herself with a groan and popping knees onto the white slat porch swing. She patted the seat next to her.

Zarah joined her. “What’s going on?”

“I’m worried about you, Zarah. I noticed you and Bobby have not exchanged a single word since you got here. I don’t think I’ve seen the two of you in the same room together.” She took Zarah’s hand in hers and stroked the back of it. “Is everything all right between the two of you? You haven’t had a spat, have you?”

Zarah grinned at the old-fashioned
spat
. To set her grandmother’s mind at ease, she explained the situation, though revealing as few details as possible and asking Kiki not to share it with anyone but Pops—and leaving out the part about having been under investigation herself originally.