to the reception table tucked discreetly to the side of the foyer. Exquisite millwork covered the walls, along with museum-quality portraits in huge gilt frames.
“Haley Barnes and Sullivan Turner,” she told one of the women manning the desk. “From Always Home Teen Shelter in D.C.” The woman consulted her list, then murmured to the worker beside her. “I was late sending in my RSVP,” she added, waiting while they shuffled through the names.
“Haley!”
Her heart lurching, she whipped around. A middle-aged man strode toward her with his hand outstretched. Senator Alfred Riggs. In his early sixties now, he looked stockier and grayer than when she’d seen him last. But he still had that aura of power that commanded respect, even in this moneyed crowd.
“It’s great to see you.” He sounded surprisingly genuine as he shook her hand. But then, he was a consummate politician, one of his party’s rising stars. Rumor had it he was contemplating a run for the White House should the current vice president decide to retire.
Years of debutante training kicked in. She glued a smile on her face. “It’s wonderful to be here, especially for such a worthy cause.” Thanks to his own troubled childhood, the senator worked tirelessly on behalf of at-risk youth—which also endeared him to the voters, paying off at the ballot box.
“Thank you for hosting this gala,” she added. “I appreciate the donation to my shelter.”
“I didn’t realize you worked in this field.”
“Yes, I—” Sully came up beside her. Grateful for the interruption, she turned his way. “Senator Riggs, I’d like you to meet my escort, Sullivan Turner.”
The senator’s eyes turned speculative as he shook Sully’s hand. “Have we met before? Your name sounds familiar.”
“I doubt it.”
Haley jumped into the breach. “Senator Riggs went to law school with my father.”
The senator smiled. “That’s right. And I had the pleasure of watching this lovely young woman grow up.” He waved at someone in the crowd. “Here comes someone else you know. We’ll catch up later,” he promised, then strode away.
Haley peered over Sully’s shoulder, experiencing an unexpected burst of pleasure as a woman in her early forties approached. “Gwendolyn Shaffer,” she murmured to Sully. “The senator’s chief of staff.” One of the few genuinely nice people she knew.
“Haley.” The woman gave her a kiss. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she added after Haley had introduced Sully.
“I run a shelter in D.C. now. But I’m afraid I accepted the invitation at the last moment. They can’t find us on the list.” She motioned toward the women still rifling through pages of names.
“Latecomers are on the addendum,” the chief of staff told them, and Haley smiled. Gwen had always been a “fixer,” one of those competent, take-charge people everyone relied on to get things done. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.
But her appearance had. Never slender, her hips had grown broader, her waist thicker over the years. Gray hairs now streaked her classic bob. But she still had that brisk, efficient attitude that had been her hallmark, propelling her formidable career.
And if anyone deserved success, it was Gwendolyn Shaffer. She’d helped make Haley’s teen years tolerable, offering sympathy and support, especially after her sister’s death.
“Oh, here we are.” Apology in her eyes, the woman at the table handed Haley their raffle tickets and brochure. “You’re automatically entered in the drawing. The winners are posted on the board near the orchestra as they’re announced.”
“Ms. Shaffer,” another woman called out.
“Another crisis.” Gwen rolled her eyes, but her smile softened the complaint. “We’ll talk again later.” She turned and hurried off.
“So your father went to school with the senator,” Sully said, taking Haley’s arm.
“He knows everyone. That’s why I need to talk to him.”
And there was no reason to delay. Inhaling deeply, she walked with Sully to the edge of the ballroom and scanned the crowd. Her belly churned. A clammy sweat moistened her upper lip at the thought of confronting her parents after all these years. But she’d come here to smoke out a killer.
And it was time to start.
* * *
An hour later, Sully limped beside Haley through the stifling room, no longer bothering to fake a smile. His head throbbed. His hands shook from the need to drink. His bum leg ached so badly he grimaced with every step.
And he was sick of the endless introductions, the air kisses and backslapping from vain, vacuous people who’d elevated chitchat to an art form, millionaires displaying surgically enhanced women to pump up their egos, men who wouldn’t last two minutes on the battlefield posturing to exude an air of virility and power. He’d met celebrities, politicians, diplomats. The Virginia attorney general was here, along with the commissioner of the Baltimore Police Department. Across the room, the ambassador of Jaziirastan stood talking to Dean Walker, a high-powered CEO.
The place was a logistical nightmare. There were too many people, too much commotion beyond his control. The patio doors were wide open, allowing people to enter and exit at will. And with every passing moment, the uneasy feeling drumming inside him grew. Danger was here. He could feel it. But which direction it came from, he didn’t know.
Damn, he needed a drink.
He eyed a passing waiter, tempted to indulge in a shot of whiskey to take the edge off his mounting nerves. But he couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t afford to dull his reactions with Haley’s life at risk. She was too vulnerable, too exposed, despite the crowded room.
He grabbed some water from the tray instead and gulped it down. Then he turned her way, skimming the graceful lines of her profile, the curve of her slender neck. She wore her hair up, but silky tendrils fluttered loose, softening the effect. And he had the strongest urge to move closer and inhale her seductive scent. To feel her softness wrapped around him and taste her sultry lips.
The dress she was wearing didn’t help. Long, black and tight, it showed off her curves to perfection, hugging her full, round breasts and hips. The dress dipped low in the back, exposing a heart-stopping expanse of naked skin.
Skin he had no business ogling right now. He jerked his attention back to the jam-packed room. It was bad enough that he couldn’t control their surroundings. Worse that he needed to drink so badly his heart was starting to race. But the last thing they both needed was to have lust fogging his brain, making it impossible to keep her safe.
The string quartet ended their piece. The emcee, a local radio personality, announced another batch of prizewinners to a smattering of polite applause. They were down to the final five.
Haley pulled out their ticket stubs from her little purse, then wrinkled her brow. “That’s your ticket. You’re one of the finalists.”
He shot her a frown. “Forget it. We’re not staying to the end.”
“I
