Summer Rain (Lightning Strikes Book 3) (27 page)

"Well, we both know the truth."

Their horses fell into a slower walk as they made their way back to the barn.

"Sometimes, I forget how beautiful it is here," she said. "I guess it took being away for a few months for me to appreciate Texas more."

"I feel the same way when I come back into town, although this is a really nice day, not as hot or as humid as it can be this time of year. We got lucky."

"We did. You said you live some of the year in New York. Do you ever think of making that your permanent address?"

"I love the city, the energy, the great restaurants, the feeling that a lot of important things are happening all around me, but the crush of traffic, the stink of trash, the constant noise wears on me. I guess that's why I like living there only part of the year."

"If you weren't working on the plane crash, what would you be doing now?"

"I have a few subjects I've been researching."

"Like what?"

"I've been fascinated by the cluster of earthquakes related to fracking in Oklahoma. I've also been looking into the new swarm of killer bees that are coming up from South America. And then there's insurance fraud, identity theft, and phony high-yield investment programs, which are draining a lot of people's bank accounts. Since my book came out, I've been contacted by a lot of people eager to tell me their personal story with the hope that I can give them a voice."

"That's cool. You've become the megaphone for the whistleblower. How do you decide what case to pursue?"

"It's getting more difficult. There are a lot of stories to tell, and I'm only one person."

"Maybe you'll have to become more than one person."

"I don't think cloning is an option," he said with a grin.

"You could start your own publication—digital, print or both, and you could hire other researchers and writers to work on a wider breadth of stories."

"I've had that thought," he conceded. "I just don't know if I'm that much of a manager-type person. I like working alone, not having to answer to anyone, and if I want to take a few days off, there's no one depending on me to make sure there's enough work for them."

"It would be a change, but you'd still be the boss. And just think of all the good you could do. You've created this amazing platform for yourself; you should use it."

"I might do that. After I figure out what happened to my mom."

She nodded, her gaze more serious now. "I hope we can get you the answers you want, but if we can't, I don't want you to waste the rest of your life looking for them. You have so much more to do, Patrick."

He was touched by her words. "Thanks," he said, holding her gaze for a long minute.

She gave him a sweet smile. "You're welcome. Shall we pick up the pace?"

He almost said no. He was having such a good time with her, he didn't really want the day to end, but Dani was already giving her horse a nudge, and he had no choice but to follow.

"I'm hungry," Dani said, after they turned their horses in at the stable. "I remember the restaurant here as being very good."

"Let's do it. There's not much at the cabin to eat."

They walked down the path to the mansion. The restaurant inside was designed to look like someone's living room, with dark wood paneling, bookshelves, comfortable chairs around small round tables, with lamps on each table providing a cozy, warmly lit environment. Some might even call it romantic, but Patrick was trying not to be one of those people.

After perusing the menu, they both ordered steak and salad, and Dani nodded happily at his suggestion that they split a bottle of red wine.

"This almost feels normal," she said, as they sipped their wine and waited for their food. "What happened last night seems like a bad dream." She frowned. "And now I wish I hadn't brought up last night because I just ruined the mood, didn't I?"

"You didn't ruin anything. But we don't need to think about all that now. It is nice to take a break."

She settled back in her seat. "So where are your friends, Patrick? Why aren't any of them involved in this search?"

"Uh, well…I don't usually involve my friends in my business."

"But this isn't just business; it's your mother. You really haven't talked to anyone about your worries?"

"I told my cousin Marcus after I talked to Senator Stuart's daughter. He advised me to drop it."

"What about your aunt? Isn't it possible your mother would have confided in her?"

"My mother would not have spoken to my aunt about politics. And I no longer believe she was having an affair. I think whatever was going on between her and Senator Stuart was all business related."

"I would agree." She paused. "I wish I could have met your mom. I think I would have liked her."

"She would have liked you," he said, feeling the ache in his heart that never quite went away. He wished he could introduce Dani to his mother, but he couldn't. He drank the rest of his wine in one long swallow, happy to see their steaks arriving.

There was no more talk of mystery or family as they ate. They stayed on neutral topics like books and movies, horseback riding and Texas football. By the time dinner was over, he felt more relaxed.

But as they drove back to the cabin, his relaxation slowly evaporated, replaced by a tension that was not about the case but all about Dani.

They were returning to an empty house, to a big bedroom with a king bed, to a two-person spa in the master bathroom, to so many opportunities…

By the time he parked the car in the driveway, he felt completely wound up. He didn't speak to Dani as they entered the house. They made their way through the rooms together, making sure all the doors and windows were locked, and there was no sign that anyone had been in the house while they'd been gone.

They eventually ended up in the master bedroom.

Probably the very worst place to finish their tour.

Dani was on one side of the bed; he was on the other.

He wasn't drunk, but he felt lightheaded. He wasn't crazy, but he felt incredibly reckless. He wasn't going to make a move, but then she did.

She came around to his side of the bed.

He licked his lips, wondering what she might say…what she might do.

His chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

What the hell was he doing?
He should move. He should walk away. He should say…something.

"Patrick?" Dani spoke first, a conflicting mix of uncertainty in her voice, as if she were fighting her own internal battle.

"Dani?" It was all he could come up with.

"I know I should leave."

"Or I should."

"There are three other bedrooms," she said, a slightly desperate note in her voice.

"All comfortable," he agreed. "Plenty of room for us to spread out…if we want to."

She stared back at him with her beautiful green eyes that were now glittering with desire, and he felt an answering rush of need. He dug his hands into his pockets, trying as hard as he could not to touch her.

"I don't want to," she said. "Spread out. I don't want to spread out."

Her words made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't remember a time when he'd felt so conflicted, so torn, so filled with want.

She was important—maybe too important. He tried not to do important.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She put her hands on his waist and looked up at him. "If I weren't sure, I wouldn't do this."

"If we start this, we're going to finish it," he warned. Because there was no way one kiss was going to be enough for him.

"I certainly hope so," she said, a smile playing about her lips. "I want you, Patrick. I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or next week or a month from now, but tonight, this moment—I want you. And maybe that's all that matters."

"Works for me." Her words sent any lingering doubts right out of his head. He pulled her up against his chest and ran his fingers through her silky soft hair as she opened her mouth and invited him inside. His tongue tasted hers, and he could have lingered in the wet heat of her mouth for hours. On the other hand, there were other places he wanted to go, too…

Her hands pulled at his shirt, unbuttoning it with needy, urgent fingers. And when she pulled the shirt off him and pressed her fingers against his chest, he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Oh, Patrick," she murmured, tracing the scar from his stab wound. "This was bad."

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"An inch or two—"

"Sh-sh, don't think about that." He pulled her in for another kiss, and then his mouth took a hot path down the side of her neck.

She let out a little sigh of pleasure and his body hardened.

He wanted to go slow. He wanted to go fast. He wanted it all.

Luckily, so did she.

They stripped off each other's clothes in a passionate flurry, stopping every now and then to go back in for another kiss, another touch. Her body was soft and curvy, and he liked that she was bold and passionate and a little shy, all at the same time.

When they tumbled onto the bed, he pushed her onto her back and licked his way down her neck, collarbone, and around her breasts and nipples as his hand explored the heat between her legs.

She gasped with each touch, and he felt his own tension rising to an impossible height.

And then Dani pushed him onto his back and threw her leg over his. She sank down on him as her mouth met his. They moved in perfect rhythm, finishing what had started days earlier—when he'd first taken her hand…

* * *

She'd never seen stars exploding before her eyes, never lost herself so completely in another person, never felt so terrified and exhilarated and satisfied all at the same time.

Dani rolled onto her back, her breathing still coming hard and fast.

Patrick turned on to his side and gave her the sexy smile that always sent butterflies through her stomach.

Those butterflies should be exhausted now, but they were still there, still thinking that maybe it would be time to dance again soon.

"That was amazing," he said.

She smiled back. "It was good."

"Damn good."

She drew in another breath and let it out. "I guess it was silly to think we wouldn't end up here together."

"We've been heading here for a while," he agreed.

He put his hand on her stomach and leaned over and kissed her. His kiss was tender, loving, and this time there weren’t just butterflies in her stomach: there were tears gathering in her eyes.

What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't cry
. But she felt suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, and she didn't know why.

Actually, she did know why.

It was Patrick. He'd gotten past her guard, and she didn't quite know what to do about it. In fact, it was probably too late to do anything about it.

She wouldn't regret what had happened; she'd wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with her.

"Are you okay, Dani?"

Like always, he saw too much.

"I'm fine."

"You looked a little more than fine a few minutes ago."

"Let's not analyze each other," she said lightly. "We had fun. Let's leave it at that."

A mix of emotions ran across his face. On one hand, he looked a little relieved. On the other hand, he seemed like he had more he wanted to say. In the end, he said, "All right. But if you want to talk, Dani, you can. I'm here."

"I'm here, too," she said, as his fingers caressed her stomach, bringing back all the heat they'd just tried to dispel.

"So we could have a little more fun…"

She smiled back. "I'm counting on that."

* * *

Hours later, Dani woke up to the sun streaming through the windows and a buzzing sound coming from her purse. She got out of bed and grabbed the phone, sliding back under the sheets as she answered. "Hello?"

At the sound of her voice, Patrick turned over, giving her a sleepy, questioning look. When he realized she was holding the phone their whistleblower had given them, he came all the way awake and sat up.

"Hello?" she said again.

"Is this Dani?" a woman asked.

"Yes. Tania?"

"I don't know why I'm calling you. This is a mistake."

"It's not," she said quickly, hearing the hesitation in Tania's voice. "At least let's talk. We don't have to do anything."

Silence followed her words.

"You called me, Tania. I think you want to have a conversation."

"I'll meet you at the Waffle House on Collins Road—in an hour."

"I'll be there."

Tania didn't reply. She'd already hung up.

"That was Tania," she told Patrick. "She wants to meet me at the Waffle House on Collins Road in an hour. She sounded conflicted. I don't know how much she'll say, but she's willing to talk to me."

Excitement entered his eyes. "This is great. Your plan worked."

"But now we have to figure out what my plan is. I came to her with some idea for revenge. If she asks me what that is, I better know."

"We'll come up with something. We have an hour."

"More like forty-five minutes. It will take me fifteen minutes to get there."

"It's enough time."

"You can't come with me, Patrick. If she sees anyone with me, she'll never talk."

He frowned at that, but she could see that he knew she was right. "I hate to send you there alone."

"I'll be fine. It's a restaurant at nine o'clock in the morning. It will be filled with people. I'm more concerned with my revenge plan." She paused. "I'm going to get in the shower while you start thinking."

"We could think together under a warm spray."

She was so tempted to say yes, because Patrick looked even more irresistibly sexy in the morning with his tangled dark hair, and his beautiful brown eyes, and the shadow of beard along his jaw. Flashes of memory swept through her. Their passionate night together had been one she'd always remember. It would have been really nice to stay together a little longer. But they were back to reality, and maybe it was better that way. Because if she stayed too long with Patrick, she didn't think she'd ever want to leave.