Risking Trust (21 page)

While waiting for him to take her call, she yelled to Mrs. Mackey, who poked her head in the door. “Please get me Tim Griffin in the state’s attorney’s office.”

Griff, this could be your lucky day.

“I am loving this,” Roxann said, laying the day’s newspaper down on Michael’s desk. “We broke a major scandal at City Hall.”

He flashed a grin that caused an explosion in her chest. Happy to see her? Or was it the story? She didn’t care. It had been a wild two days but the
Banner
staff had pulled it off.

“A good story
and
the guy got fired.”

Roxann floated to the sofa and dropped onto it. “His problems are bigger than being fired. He’s going to jail. The state’s attorney’s office raided L&L this morning and found all kinds of funky accounting. It’ll be in tomorrow’s paper. Three days of huge stories and we got there first.”

She rested her head back and giggled. Yes, giggled.
Who knew?
Didn’t her first major coup as publisher allow her to be silly?

Feeling the silence in the room, she rolled her head toward Michael who, with his black dress shirt, rumpled hair and five o’clock shadow could have graced the cover of
GQ.
“I called a couple of times and your crabby secretary told me you were in a meeting. That was a few hours ago. And everyone yells at
me
about working too hard.” She smacked her hands together. “It’s seven o’clock. Pack it up. I want to celebrate.”

He grabbed his pen from the desk and tossed it in a drawer. “I just finished signing checks. It’s always the last thing on the to-do list.”

While Michael organized his desk, she studied the black and white photos of various city buildings lining the walls and realized the office represented its owner. Masculine and tasteful.

“This sofa is a dream.” With sprawled legs, she burrowed her leaden body into the sofa, and closed her eyes. She could sleep. For a long time.

“Has the mayor called you?”

“Twice yesterday, three times today. He wanted to know if I knew anyone that could fill the streets and sanitation job.” Despite herself, she laughed at her own joke. How could she joke about this? Must be the lack of sleep. “Phil hasn’t chipped this iceberg yet. There’ve been corruption rumors for years. Our esteemed mayor is feeling the pinch.”

She opened her eyes, saw Michael staring at her and sat a little straighter.

“Don’t do that.” He rose from his chair and moved toward her.

“What?”

“Get self-conscious. You can relax in here.” He sat next to her and propped his feet on the glass-topped coffee table. “My secretary was nasty to you?”

“I think she’s nasty to everyone.” She shifted to face him and idly stroked her fingers down his forearm. “You need to do something with her. She’s awful. Think about how she must treat your clients.”

“I know.”

“So, fire her.”

“I will, it’s…” He shrugged. “She’s a single mom with a couple of kids. I feel bad.”

He didn’t want to put her out of a job. Roxann had to appreciate that. As rough edged as he seemed, he had a huge, soft heart and she nearly sighed.
Get a grip
.

She patted his leg. “
You’re
the one who’s been nagging me about my lobby guards. At least they’re nice to people.”

He focused on her hand resting on his thigh and pointed at his crotch. “Uh-oh.” He grinned like an idiot. “Mr. Happy is awake. I’d better lock the door.”

Roxann laughed and scooted into the corner of the sofa, but he returned from locking the door and leaned over her.

“Don’t you dare.” She smacked the top of his head. “Stop it. Mr. Happy needs to go back to sleep.”

“Too late.” He levered himself over her and kissed her neck, his lips moving up and down, up and down, until her skin tingled.

Yow.

That warm little buzz she felt every time he kissed her made its way into her chest as he ran a hand up her leg and under her dress. The warm buzz turned to raging panic because—heaven help her—they were in his office. She grabbed his wrist. “We can’t. Not in your office.”

“Everyone’s gone. Besides, it’s my building and I’ve never done it in my office.”

“But—” The thought trailed off as an involuntary motion forced her to lift her rear so he could slide her dress over her hips.

“There you go,” he said.

Oh no. How did she get to being stretched flat on the sofa?

His magic fingers trailed down her legs. “You little tease. You wore this garter to torture me.”

“Uh—no—well—maybe?” She whapped herself on the head to clear the fuzz. “What did you say?”

But really, what did it matter what he said when he had just unsnapped the garter? He brushed his fingertips against the inside of her thigh and the combination of gentleness and scorching heat made her gasp.

She wanted him.

She wanted him inside her.

Now.

Apparently her no-sex-until-he-fesses-up vow took leave.
Bye-bye
.

She pulled him on top of her and kissed him until her body burned. What a fool she was.
Fool. Fool. Fool.

He backed away and yanked her underwear off just as a knock sounded at the door.

“Go away.”

“Mikey, open up.”

Roxann’s heart seized. Vic. Of all people. “You said everyone was gone.”

Michael shrugged. “He must have been in the gym.”

He glanced toward the door where Vic jiggled the handle from the outside. “Beat it!”

“What’re you doing in there?”

Michael laughed. So did Roxann. She slapped her hand over her mouth.

“Who’s in there? Roxann? Open this door before I kick it in.”

“You kick in that door and we’re going a few rounds. Fuck off. We’re busy in here.”

She sucked in a breath. “Don’t say that. He’ll know what we’re doing.”

Michael grinned. “You think he hasn’t figured out what we’re doing? Behind a locked door?” He ran a finger down her cheek, his eyes warming her. “You’re so funny. Sometimes I can’t stand it.”

“I’m gonna sit out here until you open this door,” Vic shouted.

Michael sat up, rested his elbows on his knees and grunted. “He’ll do it. The son of a bitch will sit out there until I open the door.”

The devil inside Roxann urged her on. She shouldn’t have been surprised. That same devil had been locked away for twelve years and had time to make up for. Damned Vic. The one time she didn’t want him around, he showed up.

Well, so what? They were all adults. And adults were allowed to have sex.

She nudged Michael with her toe. “Let him wait.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’ll never live it down. He’ll terrorize you.”

“I’m waiting,” Vic shouted.

“He’s going to terrorize me anyway. I might as well get
some
pleasure out of it.”

After three seconds of thinking about it, Michael stood and removed his pants. “You asked for it.”

“I did indeed.” She’d even moan a little louder just for Vic.

“You two are
nasty,
” he yelled.

Yes, yes we are, she thought, but it felt better than anything she’d known in a very long time. This beautiful, generous man who was afraid to fire his secretary made her want more of him than there could ever be, and she knew, without a doubt, she loved him.

Still.

Immersed in that odd semi-conscious state when the brain says wake up, but the body says no, Roxann twitched. A disconnect. Dreaming?

She forced her eyes open and focused on the ceiling fan.
Her
ceiling fan. Her bedroom.

The distant sound of sirens pulled her further awake and she inched her head toward the nightstand clock. Three-oh-eight.

The phone rang. A ringing phone at 3:00 a.m.?

Emergency.

She snatched the handset.

“Roxann? It’s Mrs. Martinez. Your car is on fire.”

“Huh?”

“Your car is on fire,” Mrs. Martinez repeated, throwing some volume into it.

My car is on fire?

Roxann dropped the phone, kicked off the sheet and sprinted to the back bedroom with her heart pounding as fast as her feet moved.

With hands that seemed steeped in molasses, she reached for the window blinds.
Come on, come on
. The blinds finally up, she pressed her hands against the glass.

She sucked in a breath. “No.” A bright orange blaze engulfed the interior of her car and spread shadows across the darkened alley. She leapt backward.
This can’t be happening. Wake up. Still dreaming.

She pinched herself. Hard.
Yow.
Definitely awake.

The sirens drew closer. Mrs. Martinez, her elderly neighbor, must have called 9-1-1.

Roxann needed a plan. She peered out the window again. Furious flames lashed at the car’s windows and managed to escape out the rear driver’s side. Did the fire shatter the window?

She grabbed a robe and, with her feet barely hitting the stairs, flew to the kitchen. Fire extinguisher. Kitchen pantry. She whipped the pantry door open. On the floor, to the right.
There it is.
She sprinted to the back door, fire extinguisher at the ready.

A flash of red lights bounced off the Martinez house and a fire engine let out a
whoosh
as it came to a stop. A squad car sat idling on the other side of the alley, its headlights facing the truck while two uniformed officers stood watching the blaze.

Firefighters in full gear bounded off the truck and hooked the hose to the fire hydrant a few doors down. Roxann remained on the porch holding the useless fire extinguisher while the heat from the blaze burned her eyes. Bad scene.
Say goodbye to the interior.

Neighbors had spilled into the alley to watch, but the firemen ushered them out of harm’s way while Roxann found herself drawn to the spectacle of it. She watched with a detached fascination as two hundred gallons of water soaked her little BMW.

How had this happened? Gas leak? Electrical fire?

Foul play?

Her shoulders sagged. No. She couldn’t get emotional. She had to deal with the situation.

To her amazement, the fire department knocked down the blaze in a little over a minute. A really long minute. Several firemen opened the doors and sprayed the interior while others checked the trunk and under the hood. No flames.

Roxann bolted off the back porch and approached the firemen huddled around the ruined car. Steam rose from the hot metal and the pungent smell of burnt plastic invaded her senses.

“Is this your car, ma’am?” a firefighter asked.

She nodded and her hair drooped in front of her face.
Shoot.
No hair clip. Did she need to look like a sex kitten in front of the fire department? She tied her hair into a knot behind her head.
Control. Maintain control.

One of the patrolmen wandered over, but remained silent as her body began to quake. She folded her arms to create warmth and willed herself to not fall apart.
Start at the toes. Rebuild
.

“Do you know what happened?” she asked one of the firefighters.

“Yeah. Someone torched your car.”

“Holy shit,” Michael said when he came around the side of the house and saw the charred wreckage of what used to be Roxann’s car.
Jesus Christ
. Car bomb. Had to be. His jaw began to throb and he unclenched his teeth.

A band of firefighters worked at packing up the truck while Roxann stood to the side. She spotted him and hot-footed it over. “How did you know about this?”

“Gina called me. Her friend is married to one of these guys. I hauled ass over here. Are you okay?”

She looked okay. Her eyes were sharp. No tears. Of course. Why on earth should she be upset over someone toasting her car?

“I’m fine. They said it was arson.”

He grabbed her hand, rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I figured.”

She stood there, staring at what some dickhead did to her car, but showed no signs of stress. Typical. And she’d been alone when it happened.

Michael rolled his shoulders.
You did this to her.
What if the house had caught fire? She could have been trapped inside. The nerves in his neck flared again and he put his hands on his hips. Either that or he’d pulverize something.

“Mike, how’s it goin’?”

Michael turned to see Tom Farrell, dressed in his beat up fire gear, coming toward him.

“Hey, Tom. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Yeah, no problem. I knew you guys—” Tom gestured toward Roxann, “—were friends.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Looks like someone broke out the back window and threw a cocktail in there.”

“A Molotov cocktail?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We put the fire out before the windows popped, but the back window was broken.”

Michael turned to Roxann. “Didn’t you hear the glass breaking?”

Her shoulders flew back. Battle stance.
Shit.

“I was sleeping. On the
other
side of the house. Sometimes people do that at 3:00 a.m.”

Their eyes held for a minute. Yeah, his tone had been a little harsh. “Sorry.”

Roxann waved him off and, figuring he’d give her a minute, he moved to the car to inspect the damage. The inside was flambé. Totally gone. All that remained was the charred metal of the seats and the steering column. On the outside, black soot marks spotted the hood and the paint had started to burn off. Michael wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell.

Roxann stepped around him and inventoried the damage. She remained detached, maintaining that ever-important control that sometimes made him nuts, but he knew this was her way of coping. “Have you gotten any threatening calls?”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her robe. “Nothing specific. A couple of hang ups.”

What?
“Nothing specific?” The words came out slow, but his blood pressure hit launch. “A couple of hang ups and you didn’t think to mention that? After what happened on your run that day? You’re shitting me, right?”

“I didn’t think it was anything.”

Such a liar.

“Yeah, you did. You
chose
to ignore it.”

Frustrated, he turned and stalked away.
You did this to her.
He’d never meant for her to be in danger by helping him. All he’d wanted was to clear his name and if she got a great story for her newspaper, it would have been a win-win. This, he hadn’t counted on, and rage gripped him. Every nerve in his body crackled and he balled his hands into fists. He pondered making the house his victim, but a broken hand wouldn’t help.
Dammit.

He spun back to Roxann. “Anything else you were ignoring? Hate mail? A brick through your goddamned front window?”

The stone-faced glare she gave him should have shrunk his balls.

“Knock it off with the sarcasm.”

“How could you not tell me about those hang ups? We could have had someone check it out.”

Okay, he was yelling and she was getting that don’t-scream-at-me look. Not good.

“It could have been a wrong number,” she said. “I hang up all the time when I dial a wrong number and get voice mail.”

Michael held up his hands. Arguing would be pointless. “Right. Perfect. I’m not fighting with you. Won’t do me any good because I know how you are. You’re
always
right.”

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Let’s get this taken care of.” He flicked a thumb to the cop standing with one of the firemen. “You want to file a police report?”

“You bet I do,” she snapped, seriously pissed at him.

And yet, as she stood there, arms folded, eyes narrowed, there remained a steadiness to her and he wanted to applaud her for holding it together. Part of him wanted to see her get mad and let that emotion rip, but she’d been taught to handle things without drama. Her way was probably better than the screaming and yelling he knew, but he wanted to see her get wild. The way she’d done in his office hours earlier. Especially if it ended the way it did on the office sofa.

Jee-zus.
They had a situation here and he was thinking about getting in her pants. Get it together, man. “You’re being an imbecile,” he said to himself.

Roxann stepped over, her eyes bigger than Mars. “
Excuse me?
”

Oops
. “Not you. Me. I was talking to myself.”

She eyeballed him a minute, the color draining from her face. Placing her palms over her eyes she said, “I must be insane.”

Michael wrapped his fingers around her wrists and the cold from her skin evaporated under his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He stopped. What could he say? He went into maintenance mode. “You need to call the insurance company. Have them tow it. I can do that for you while you talk to the cops.”

Roxann pulled her hands from her face. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

She sighed, glanced at her torched car. “Well, you’re irritating, but I could get used to having you around.”

He liked the sound of that. Stepping closer, he gave her a peck on the lips. “Careful what you wish for.”

Her reaction, even if she had one, remained imperceptible. She didn’t shove him away or laugh him off, but she didn’t encourage him either. Fine. Maybe they weren’t ready to talk about the future, but the disappointment settled on him.
Damn.

“The number for the insurance company is inside,” she said.

He picked up a peanut of a fire extinguisher. “You were going to put out that inferno with this?”

“It’s for putting out fires isn’t it?”

How could a guy not admire a lone woman willing to fight a fire? “Is there anything you’re afraid of?”

“There’s one thing.”

He smiled, feeling triumphant that she’d admit it to him. “What’s that?”

“You breaking my heart.”