Love By Association. Tara Taylor Quinn
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And Colin leaned over to ask her if he and Julie could drop her off at her hotel after their tour of the mansion, preventing the need for her to call and then wait for a ride.
Her announcement that she wasn’t going to be around for long hadn’t seemed to slow him down a bit. He was knowingly embarking on a short-time flirtation.
Which made him fair game.
She accepted his offer of a lift.
COLIN WAS READY to take the tour and go. Julie’s gaze had bruised him a bit. His little sister was pissed at him for keeping Chantel’s publishing background from her. He’d known she would be. But if he’d told her right up front, she’d probably have refused to meet her with an open mind.
Ever since the rape, she’d been slowly becoming more closed-minded. Stubborn.
Could he be blamed for caring enough to try to help her?
And Chantel...maybe she’d be free to have dinner with him that night. Just the two of them...
As Leslie was concluding the business portion of the day, the outer door of the library sounded. Someone had just come in.
“Ladies and gentlemen, dessert has arrived,” Leslie said, smiling, as a couple of white-coated women came into the room, each carrying a large brown box. And right behind them was...Patricia Reynolds—Commissioner Paul Reynolds’s wife.
Colin stiffened. What in hell the police commissioner’s wife was doing there he didn’t know. And he wouldn’t have cared, if not for the fact that Julie was sitting just a few feet away from him.
This was why she didn’t go out much. To avoid unexpected appearances...
“Now that the catering decision has been made, I can tell you that Patricia Reynolds has volunteered to handle the catering details for the mystery gala. As you all know, her daughter and son-in-law own Beachside Catering and, to avoid a potential conflict of interest, Patricia didn’t want to take on her duties until our choice had been made.”
Patricia smiled, including everyone in her greeting. The woman gave endlessly to the community. Volunteering everyplace she could. Providing companionship and guidance through a youth program she’d helped develop to young women who’d gone astray. If not for the fact that she was married to a man who could be bought, Colin would have liked the woman.
“Regardless of who we chose, Beachside Catering was providing our dessert today. But now I can tell you that caterer C, your unanimous choice, is none other than Beachside Catering.” Leslie smiled as Patricia nodded toward the two women who were standing by a counter in the back of the room.
Crème de menthe parfaits were being passed around by the time Patricia settled into the empty seat at the end of the table between John and Colin, as far away from Julie as she could be while still being seated at the same table. Colin supposed Leslie was responsible for that.
But he had to wonder why the other woman had gone along with a plan to include Patricia on the committee at all. Leslie Morrison, the one person in their crowd who knew the details of Julie’s rape, was usually the one who ran interference for his sister, to avoid exactly the kind of situation they now faced.
Bad enough that Patricia was on the committee, but to have blindsided Julie...
He was going to have a word with Leslie.
Later.
* * *
CHANTEL HAD NEVER been in a home, free to wander in and out of every single room, as magnificent as the Estrada-mansion-turned-library. If she hadn’t been conscious of Colin’s time, and the fact that Julie didn’t seem to be feeling very well after lunch, she could have spent hours exploring the nooks and crannies of the place.
She couldn’t imagine ever living there, however. Seemed like a lonely existence to her, having so much space to separate family members. And the idea of having to dust the place...
Julie didn’t say much as they issued their farewells and made their way to Colin’s town car. She slid into the backseat before Chantel could offer to do so, forcing Chantel to sit up front with Colin.
Not a bad thing. Just a little awkward at the moment, considering that ever since he’d had his hand on her knee, she’d been half-turned-on.
She knew that when cops went under they had to do a lot of things to protect their cover—take drugs, even—but having sex for the sake of the job was not something she’d ever do. Or have the department expect her to do.
She’d be fine. She just needed a few minutes back in her own environment to process what had happened. She wanted out of the heels.
And to scrub her face. She remembered why she eschewed makeup. It made her skin itch.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to run Julie home first,” Colin said as he started the car. “I’m heading to the office, and the resort is in between.”
“That’s fine,” she said, and tried to ignore the tingle she felt at the realization that she was going to be completely alone with him for the first time.
Would he fill the time with small talk? Or try to get personal?
She needed him to get personal. To take the next step in making them an item. A temporary one. A spring fling.
Problem was, she wanted it, too...
“You okay with that?” Colin was looking in the rearview mirror, obviously addressing his sister.
“Of course,” Julie said and nothing else. Colin didn’t ask her if she felt okay or if anything was wrong. It wasn’t Chantel’s business, but...
“Did something at lunch not agree with you?” she asked, turning to look at the other woman. In her experience, guys didn’t always pick up on the obvious. And if Julie, who’d been so friendly earlier, was unwell, someone should notice.
“What?” Julie asked and then said, “Oh, I’m fine. I feel fine.”
Chantel didn’t need to be a cop to detect the lie. But she figured she’d been put in her place—a stranger who needed to mind her own business—and turned back around.
Colin glanced in the mirror again, his expression softening, but still said nothing.
He turned out into the street, drove half a mile and turned again. The silence in the car might not be bothering anyone else, but in Chantel’s world, it was weird—to have something lying there under the surface and not being addressed. But whatever. Must be how the rich and famous dealt with life.
Ignoring the messy parts.
Colin glanced in the rearview mirror again. For the fourth time.
“You want to come into the office with me?” Colin asked five minutes into the drive. “The preliminary child-life specialist contract should be drawn up. If you go over it today, we could have it vetted and ready to present as early as Monday.”