noise of the resort awakening around them slowly slid into his consciousness. A murmur of distant voices. The rattle of china on a room service cart. The far-off ding of an elevator. Finally Joan gave him a curt nod, turned and started down the hallway in the opposite direction, her long, wand-slim body flowing into the movement.
Hart hesitated. After the restless night he’d spent because of her—and the unsettling punch of lust he’d just experienced—it seemed wiser all the way around to keep his distance.
Hell, when it came to Joan Cooper he hadn’t ever been wise.
“Morning, Texas,” he said when he strolled up behind her at the bank of elevators.
She paused before turning, giving him an opportunity to skim his gaze down her back, over those long legs. “Good morning, Hart.”
Close up, he saw the smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes that made him think she hadn’t slept any better than he had. Although his ego would have preferred to think she’d lost sleep over him, common sense told him better.
Her glossed lips lifted slightly at the corners. “I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Lone Star. Be sure to let us know if you need anything.”
The cool politeness in her voice had him raising a brow. “That the standard company line? Or did you just come up with it off the top of your head so we’d have something to chat about while we wait for the elevator?”
“You’re our guest.” Reaching, she pressed the elevator’s already lit call button. “It’s important to every employee that you have a pleasant stay.”
He thought back to the sleepless hours he’d spent on a certain employee’s account. “So far I wouldn’t call my stay at the Lone Star pleasant.”
The comment earned him a concerned look. “I hope that’s because of your business here. I can imagine how awful it must be having to view bombing scenes where people have died and been injured.”
He stared at her for a long moment. He wasn’t complacent about his job. He couldn’t be, not when he worked in a world where the unexpected always showed up and where the threat posed by each bomb builder changed as fast as technology advanced. Yet, what he did for a living had been the last thing on his mind this morning. He had thought of her. Only of her.
Now he forced his mind to the devastation he had seen the previous afternoon in the Men’s Grill and the billiards room. Since Joan worked and lived at the Lone Star, the makeshift plywood wall with its padlocked door would no doubt serve as a constant reminder of how irreparably an explosion could change a person’s world. “You’re right,” he said, softening his voice. “Working a bomb scene is one of the unpleasant aspects of my job.”
Nodding, she lifted a hand to her throat. “It’s hard knowing that the person who set the bomb is still free.” Looking across her shoulder, she shifted her gaze down the hallway in the direction they’d come. “I hope you find who did it, Hart.” The sudden vulnerability that slid into her dark eyes sounded in her voice. “I hope you find him soon before he has a chance to kill or injure someone else.”
Her child, he realized. Of course she wasn’t concerned just for her own safety but that of her daughter.
“I’ll do everything I can to make sure the person who made that bomb winds up behind bars.” Pausing, he inclined his head toward the hallway. “I take it the room I saw you walk out of is where you live? You and your daughter?”
Joan’s hand slowly dropped from her throat. The vulnerability disappeared from her eyes, and her face took on a closed, blank look. “Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering, is all. When I met with Spence last night he mentioned that you’re a widow. That you have a child and you live here.”
Her eyes were now as cool as her tone. “Why were you and the district attorney talking about me?”
“No real reason.” He lifted a shoulder. “Your name came up in the conversation.”
“What about you, Hart?”
“What about me?” he asked, aware that she had changed the subject before answering his question.
“Is there a Mrs. O’Brien waiting in Chicago for you to come home? Some little O’Briens?”
“No. Getting married and having kids is still on my to-do list.”
“I see.”
His gaze flicked to the small brass name tag above her left breast. He replayed Spence’s explanation of why she still used her maiden name. Which, now that Hart thought about it, was odd since old man Cooper had endowed a wing at the hospital in his dead son-in-law’s name. Wouldn’t she want to be linked to something like that?
“Does your daughter go by Cooper, too?” he asked, just as an elevator chimed its arrival.
Something flickered in Joan’s face, then was gone. “Yes.” Very deliberately she turned and reached for one side of the double doors that slid apart, braced it open with her palm, then turned to face him. “I take it by the way you’re dressed you’re going jogging?” A thin smile accompanied the question.
“You’ve got a good grasp of the obvious.”
She inclined her head in the opposite direction from the one they’d come. “If you take the flight of stairs at the end of the hallway to the ground level, the door you’ll come to leads right out to the jogging trail.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Her blatant desire not to share an elevator with him had him taking a perverse step past her into the cab. “I’ll ride down with you, if you don’t mind,” he said, trying to ignore the punch in the gut that came with a whiff of the warm, subtle scent of Chanel No. 5. He leaned against the wall opposite her, wishing to God she didn’t look so beautiful, that just her presence didn’t play so perfectly on his senses.
She hesitated before using a pink polished nail to press the button for the ground floor. “Of course I don’t mind. You’re a guest here, Hart. You can use whatever elevator you like.”
“I’m also a cop, Texas.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Using a polite tone doesn’t make it any easier to get a lie past me.”
She turned to face him. “I wouldn’t think for one minute that lying to a police officer would be easy.”
“It’s not. And it generally doesn’t get you anywhere but into trouble, so you can drop the polite act.” His mouth took on a sardonic curve as the door slid shut, closing them in. “The truth is, you mind like hell sharing this elevator with me.”
He saw a muscle tighten in her jaw. “All right, Hart, since you won’t let the matter alone, I’ll forget my customer service training for a moment. You’re right, I would rather not share this, or any other elevator with you. Does that make you happy?”
Her cool, even stare had the nasty mood he’d climbed out of bed with heat his temper all over again. “Yeah, it always makes me really happy when someone tells me the truth.”
Turning toward the control panel, she restabbed the button for the ground floor. “In fact, since we’re being honest with each other, why don’t we take
