mingled with the honeysuckle above their heads. She wondered if it was scientifically possible for scents to make a person drunk. What else could be making her feel so light-headed?
“Sure,” he said wearily. “It’s easy for you to stand there and make a pitch for Mom’s plans. It’s just business to you—you have no idea what it’s like to lose someone as we did.”
Christina kept reminding herself to keep this man’s words impersonal. He couldn’t possibly know that his comments were evoking tragic memories, whirling her back twelve long years ago, when she’d sat staring out a dark window, wondering why her little brother had not yet arrived home. At that time he’d been eighteen, and she’d wanted to believe he was at a party and enjoying it too much to leave his friends.
“So the truth of the matter isn’t important to you?” she asked in an oddly hoarse voice.
She could feel his eyes traveling over her face.
“If you’re going to give me the old truth-will-set-me-free speech, then please don’t waste your time,” he said, with faint sarcasm. “I know what the truth is.”
“Well, I don’t,” she muttered, then turned on shaky legs and headed back toward the house.
Behind her, Lex stared at her retreating figure. Seeing her so upset had brought him up short. He’d never meant to hurt her and he desperately needed to make her understand that. Quickly he caught up to her as she was about to enter the house and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Christina, what’s the matter? You’re the one who wanted to talk this out.”
Her face was suddenly a picture of amazement, and Lex found himself mesmerized by the rich copper color of her hair, the dark blaze in her eyes and the moist purse of her lips.
“Talk, not yell,” she shot back at him. “I’m your mother’s guest, not your whipping boy.”
Boy? With her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing like that, there wasn’t one tiny particle about her that was remotely boyish. In fact, he’d never seen so much sensuality bundled up in one female. And he’d never felt himself reacting so strongly. Then the meaning of her words sank in, and Lex found himself feeling faintly ashamed of his behavior. Maybe he had been out of line.
“If that’s what you think I was doing, then I apologize. I was just trying to make you see that digging up the past seems fruitless to me. And even a little unhealthy. Dad is dead. Nothing will change that.”
Without warning, she suddenly stepped closer. So close that he could smell her musky rose perfume, count the freckles on her upturned nose.
Her blue eyes challenged his. “You’re probably thinking that I don’t understand what you’re feeling. But believe me, Lex, I do. Twelve years ago, my little brother disappeared without a trace. And since that time, every day I wish for the truth and someone—anyone—to help me find it.”
Stunned by her revelation, his grip on her shoulder eased just enough for her to turn away from him. But before she could open the door and step inside, he caught her by the forearm.
“Wait, Christina. Please,” he added softly.
Slowly, she turned back to him, and he was struck hard as he caught the watery shimmer in her blue eyes.
“I think we’ve both said enough,” she said in a choked voice.
He grimaced ruefully. “No. I’m sorry, Christina. Really sorry.”
She bent her head and instinctively he gathered her to him in a gentle hug. “If I sounded callous a bit earlier, forgive me. I didn’t know you’d lost anyone. I mean, I didn’t stop to think—except about my own feelings.”
She pushed out a long breath, and he closed his eyes as it skittered warmly against the side of his neck.
“This—you and I—is going all wrong, Lex. Maybe my coming here—asking you to work with me—is asking too much of you,” she said. Then easing herself away from the circle of his arms, she opened the door and left him standing on the patio.
Chapter Two
By the time Lex gathered himself enough to go after her, Christina was already heading back to the front porch and his mother.
Fortunately, he caught the woman before she reached the foyer and, with a hand around her fragile wrist, led her stiff, unyielding body over to a chesterfield couch.
“No matter what you think of me at this moment,” he said as he eased down beside her, “I can’t allow you to go out there and tell Mom the two of us can’t work together.”
One copper-colored brow arched upward. “Give me one good reason not to,” she requested.
“I don’t want to hurt her. Not for any reason.”
Approval flickered in her eyes, and Lex was surprised at how good the sight of it made him feel.
“I’m glad you’re putting her feelings first,” she said.
“I promise you, Christina,” he said, “I always care about my mother’s feelings. I just…this whole thing about digging into Dad’s death is hard for me. But I promise to help you in any way I can.”
Her hand reached over and covered his, and Lex had the greatest urge to lift her fingers to his lips, to taste her smooth skin. But he didn’t. He could already see that she was intelligent and strong-minded, not the sort of woman he could easily charm into a brief, pleasant beguilement.
“Thank you for that, Lex,” she said quietly and started to rise.
Lex caught her by the hand, causing her gaze to lift to his. The direct connection jolted him in a way that felt totally odd. Being with Christina Logan was making him feel like a teenage virgin, which was a bit ridiculous. He’d made love to many attractive females before. There wasn’t any reason for Christina to be raising his pulse rate just by looking him in the eye.
“Just a minute, Christina. I—” He passed his thumb along the back of her hand and momentarily savored the feel of her creamy skin. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am about your brother. I can’t imagine what it must feel like—the not knowing about him.”
She let out a heavy breath, and from the shadows that suddenly crossed her face, Lex could plainly see the emotional toll the tragedy had taken on her.
“The not knowing is the worst part,” she admitted.
The need to help her, to ease her grief somehow, hit Lex in a totally unexpected way, and for a brief second, the feeling staggered him. “I’d like for you to tell me about him sometime,” he invited.
“Sometime, I will.” Smiling wanly, she pulled her hand away from his grasp and rose to her feet. “I think now we’d better join your mother before she begins to wonder where we’ve gotten off to.”
The next morning Christina was sitting in a small office located on the west side of the house. Information regarding Paul Saddler’s case was stacked on the floor in countless cardboard boxes and plastic
