elevator door opened and Randi quickly stepped out. Otherwise she would have to tell her brother just how wrong he was.
* * *
IT WAS THREE HOURS later when Randi was able to pull Quasar’s card from her purse. Everyone was crashing at Zach and Anna’s home across the Potomac in National Harbor, Maryland. The tri-level house was huge and had plenty of room for the sleepover guests, which included Randi, Trey and Haywood and their four kids. Zach and Anna both worked outside the home. Zach as a senator and Anna as a physician. Carole, a woman in her fifties who’d been their live-in nanny since their first child, had kept the kids while everyone had gone out tonight.
Randi thought it had been a nice evening spent with her family. After leaving the Kennedy Center, they had stopped at a café for coffee. When they returned to Zach and Anna’s home, an announcement was made. Anna had found out a few days ago that she was pregnant. This would be their third child, and they were hoping for a girl. Their news prompted a celebration and calls to Zach’s parents, who resided in Miami, and Randi’s parents all the way in Rome.
Randi stared at the card Quasar had slipped into her hand. It was his business card representing Summers Security Firm.
She flipped the card over and read the message he’d scribbled on the back.
Please call me tonight. No matter how late.
Quasar Patterson
Underneath his name was a phone number. Randi tapped the card to her chin as she felt a slow roll in her stomach. This was the overture she was to wait for. She figured he was probably wondering why there was such a strong attraction between them. It was more powerful than just sheer sexual chemistry. Both times she’d seen him, what had passed between them had stimulated her senses and made her realize something she’d conveniently not dwelled on for quite some time. The fact that she was a woman.
She’d appreciated how Quasar had filled out that suit with such a powerful, sexual physique. Not all men wore a suit well, but Quasar didn’t just look good—he looked breathtaking. The suit had appeared tailor-made for his body. For all she knew, it could have been.
She looked back at the card and then at the clock on the guest bedroom nightstand. It was after midnight. Although he’d said she should call him tonight, no matter how late, she couldn’t do that. The last thing she needed was to hear his voice. She’d bet it was as sexy as the rest of him and then she was certain not to get any sleep for thinking about the sound of it.
Drawing in a deep breath, she placed the business card on the nightstand. She would call him first thing in the morning. Tonight she needed to get some sleep and accept the realization that, for better or worse, her life was about to change.
QUASAR TOSSED THE empty coffee cup in the trash can to join three others. If his friends had told him he would stay up half the night, guzzling caffeine while waiting for some woman to call, he would have told them they were out of their ever-loving minds. But here he was, four cups of coffee later and still waiting for the call.
It had been past midnight when he’d left the Kennedy Center. As a rule, none of the security detail could leave until the last car was out of the parking lot.
Once back at the hotel, he had quickly gotten out of his suit and showered, anxiously checking the phone. No call. So he decided to kill time by getting on his computer. He’d convinced himself that had she read the message scribbled on the back of the business card, she would call.
So far she hadn’t.
Granted, they hadn’t officially met, but he figured she had to remember him from that night in Charlottesville at the crime scene. Maybe not to the same extent he’d remembered her, but still. And then, hours ago at the Kennedy Center, with all that sexual chemistry flowing between them, she had to have found what was happening between them just as bizarre as he did.
On the other hand, maybe she hadn’t. After all, she was a psychic. For all he knew, she could get this type of reaction from men all the time. But for him, it was the weirdest thing he’d ever encountered. If he assumed the first time had been nothing more than getting caught up in the moment, what happened at the Kennedy Center pretty much dismissed that idea. It had nothing to do with the moment but with her, and he was determined to find out why.
Quasar checked his watch. It was close to seven in the morning, which meant he’d been up all night. But at least it hadn’t been a total waste. He’d finally decided to research Dr. Randi Fuller. When he couldn’t pull up anything but professional information, he contacted the headquarters of Summers Security, knowing that someone was on call twenty-four hours a day. It was Roland. More than once he and the guys had told their boss he needed a life, and Roland would give them some smart-ass response that Summers Security was his life.
If Roland thought it odd he’d called at two in the morning for access to GRETA, he didn’t let on. GRETA was a state-of-the-art search engine that specialized in information you couldn’t find anywhere else. It was a great tool for those doing investigative work. All you had to do was tell GRETA what information you wanted, and within minutes she would recite all you needed to know.
According to GRETA, Dr. Fuller made her home in Richmond. She was the daughter of famed defense attorney Randolph Fuller; sister to Ross D. Fuller, who was making a name for himself as a top corporate attorney; goddaughter of retired Senator Noah Wainwright and godsister of Senator Zachary Wainwright. He recalled Senator Zachary Wainwright had been among the group she’d been with last night. Connected to that much fame, he understood why she preferred protecting her personal data.
Quasar stretched out on the bed. He was filled with too much caffeine to sleep, so he might as well watch the news. He grabbed the remote. From his hotel room window, he had a view of the Washington Monument standing tall against the bluest sky he’d ever seen.
It was at that moment his phone rang, and immediately he felt a stirring sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a number he didn’t recognize. “Quasar Patterson,” he said.
There was a brief pause before a feminine voice replied, “Yes, Mr. Patterson, this is Dr. Randi Fuller.”
Quasar sat up in the bed, wondering how any woman could sound ultrasexy and impressively professional at the same time. He immediately remembered her as he’d seen her last night, in that beautiful blue gown. The material draped her curves, and he’d thought she’d looked absolutely stunning in it. For a minute he’d ignored the lobby filled with people, his total concentration on her.
“Thanks for calling, Dr. Fuller.”
“Although you said to call anytime, when I settled in for the night by my standards it was way too late.”
“I understand and I appreciate you calling now. What I didn’t have time to write on the card is that I want to get to know you.”
For the first time in his life, Quasar felt like a man on a mission.
* * *
RANDI NERVOUSLY NIBBLED on her bottom lip. Twenty minutes ago she had still been debating the merits of making this call. Now that she had, she wondered how much, if anything, she should tell him. And just like he wanted to get to know her, she wanted to get to know him. What woman wouldn’t? But for now, she’d let him lead the conversation.
