over and clasped one of his cold hands between hers. “I’ll start right away.”
“You’re a good girl.” He patted her hands, then released them. “Congress will have vetted him for the job, dug into his past, but we’re better. Find the skeletons in his closet and bring them out to play. We’ll air an exposé as soon as you have enough.”
Her insides fluttered. This wasn’t a style of journalism that she liked or particularly wanted to be involved in. And Hayden Black being the target made her even less comfortable. She shifted in her chair. The discomfort could have been a result of the stirrings of attraction, but she still didn’t like the idea of targeting him.
Then she remembered his closed-off expression when she’d left his suite less than an hour ago—he was going after Graham, already convinced of his guilt. Doing an exposé might leave a bad taste in her mouth, but Hayden Black’s own actions made it necessary. Besides, if he had no skeletons hidden away, there’d be nothing to find.
She nodded, decision made. “You can’t have me on air with this. Everyone knows I’m your stepdaughter. We’ll need someone with a good reputation and a bit more distance from you.”
“We’ll worry about that when we have the content ready to go. You do the research, get the story, and I’ll bring someone in to host then.”
Her mind clicked over into journalist mode and she took out a notebook from her hold-all bag. “Who’s our source at the Sterling Hotel?”
Graham picked up the phone on his desk, dialed, barked an order, then after he had his information, disconnected and looked at Lucy again. “Concierge named Jerry Freethy.”
“Okay.” She dropped the notebook back in her bag and stood. “I’ll keep you up to date.” She blew Rosebud an air kiss and headed for the door.
“Lucy,” Graham said gruffly, and she turned. “Thank you.”
Emotion clogged her throat but she found her voice. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got your back, Graham.”
The next day, at half past one, Lucy saw her target. The concierge had told her Hayden Black liked to take a walk in the park across from the Sterling Hotel with his son on his lunch break, but that the time of the break varied. So Lucy and Rosebud had been wandering the park since just after eleven. Rosebud was panting from the exertion, but thoroughly enjoying her day out meeting random people who stopped to pat her.
Hayden was striding along a paved path about twenty feet away, talking to an infant he carried in one arm, holding a brown paper bag in the other. The sight of him trapped her breath in her lungs. Wide, strong shoulders that tapered to narrow hips. Long legs that walked with confidence and purpose. The masculine grace in the way he held his son.
She swallowed hard. “Come on, Rosie, I have a little boy I want you to meet.” Rosebud looked up, her curled tongue poking out as she smiled.
Lucy had spent the afternoon and evening before gathering as much information as she could on Hayden Black. There wasn’t a whole lot available on the web, but then, he was a professional investigator, so it made sense that he protected his own information. She’d found New York newspaper articles about his wife’s death a few months earlier in a car crash, leaving Hayden the single father of a nine-month-old baby, Joshua, who would now be one year old. And currently wearing denim overalls, a bright-blue hat and a cheeky grin.
As they came closer, Lucy gazed at the trees, their branches heavy with spring flowers, but kept man and child in her peripheral vision. Hayden had his head bent, talking to his son, not paying a lot of attention to where they were, the people rollerblading past or the joggers making their way along the wide path. The hitch in her lungs had smoothed out and now her breaths were coming a little too fast for comfort, which she told herself was excitement about the story, but she suspected had more to do with seeing Hayden Black again.
When they were only ten feet apart, she heard a squeal, followed by, “Goggie!” Lucy finally glanced up to see Hayden had stopped midstep, and probably midsentence, given the way his mouth was open, as if forming a word he’d since forgotten.
She’d never paid much attention to men’s mouths—shoulders and biceps had usually caught her attention first—but Hayden’s mouth was a thing of beauty. Sensual lips that she could almost feel tracing a path along the side of her neck. Her skin heated and prickled.
Before becoming too carried away, she found a smile and walked Rosie over. A gentle breeze blew her hair around her face, and she tucked it behind her ears as she stopped in front of father and son.
“Ms. Royall,” he said. His voice was pleasant, probably for his son’s benefit, but his face told a different story—eyebrows slashed down, jaw tight. He was annoyed at running into her. Just because he didn’t want to mix work and family? Or was there something more …?
“Lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, leaning down to give Rosie a scratch behind the ears. “Little birds in the trees, the flowers are out, the weather’s warm—everything is just so perfect. Rosebud and I love April.”
A speculative gleam appeared in Hayden’s eye. He’d know everything there was to know about Graham from his shoe size to what he liked for breakfast, so knowing Rosie belonged to one of the targets of his investigation was guaranteed. And he’d just realized he could use Rosie to engage Lucy in conversation about Graham, and hope the casual setting caused her to slip up. Precisely what she was doing to him.
Although that didn’t explain why he’d been annoyed when he first saw her—he was renowned for his investigative acumen, so that should have been the first thing that occurred to him. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted his time with his son to be interrupted. Entirely possible, but it had felt like more than that….
Perhaps he disliked her personally and was annoyed at running into her away from work? Her belly hollowed out before she gave herself a mental shake. Just because her hormones went haywire when she saw him didn’t mean the chemistry was mutual. Besides, the man had lost his wife only a few months ago.
She should be pleased that at least one of them wouldn’t be carried away by flights of fancy. Getting involved with the man she was investigating, and worse, who was investigating ANS for Congress, would be unthinkable.
“Goggie!” Josh squealed again, apparently impatient to be getting to the dog-patting action.
Hayden looked from Rosie to her. “Is it okay for Josh to pet her?”
“Sure,” she said, laying on her Southern accent thick and smiling innocently. “She’s as gentle as a lamb.”
Hayden crouched down beside her and supported Josh as he found his feet and reached out to touch Rosie’s ear.
“Her name’s Rosebud,” Lucy said to the toddler.
As they watched Josh and Rosie interact, Hayden asked, “How long have you had her?”
“She’s Graham’s dog,” she replied, as if she hadn’t worked out that he’d know that. “He’s had her for six years. Since she was a puppy.”
Hayden leaned forward and joined Josh in petting her. “Nice dog.”
His shoulder was only a couple of inches from hers—if she moved a little she’d bump against him. A mischievous impulse urged her to lean into him, knowing he’d be solid and warm, and
