Читать книгу The Protector - Jule McBride, Jule Mcbride - Страница 9

“HAVE YOU CHANGED your mind about us Steeles yet?” Sullivan asked as he and Judith strolled along the stone pathway that wound through the lush, thriving courtyard garden his mother tended behind the family’s three-story brownstone. By design, they’d dined late, after the sun went down, and they’d eaten dinner at a round glass table, where Sullivan’s brothers and their fiancées were still talking with Sheila, sipping ice-cold margaritas until they felt ready for dessert.

“I came to observe,” Judith said, “not draw conclusions—”

“How clinical. I feel like a lab specimen.”

“You may not like it, but that’s not far from the truth, Steele.” The cold fried chicken and Waldorf salad Sheila Steele served for dinner had calmed Judith’s nerves and mitigated her caustic tone, though not the words that came under her breath, so only Sullivan could hear. “And if anything, your lifestyle’s made me even more suspicious,” she admitted.

“Lifestyle?” He had the audacity to chuckle, and when the genuine merriment was undercut by the intensity of his gaze, Judith was reminded of their situation. Sullivan might be the perfect host, but he’d invited her here with an agenda—to get closer to her, so he could monitor the case. “Does that mean you find more than our humble home suspicious, Judith?”

“Humble home,” she muttered, slipping a finger beneath her hair to lift it off her neck for relief from the heat. “This is a mansion, Steele.” She made a point of eyeing him. “And look at your suit.” During dinner, he’d removed the jacket, but even wearing only a well-tailored shirt and tan, finely woven linen trousers that matched his hair and eyes, Sullivan looked every inch the king of the manor.

“My ex-girlfriend helped pick it out,” he explained defensively.

“Good taste.”

“Thanks.”

She was more curious than she wanted to admit. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Most men have them.”

“Did she break your heart?”

“Since when did you decide I have a heart, Judith?”

“Be serious.”

He considered. “We dated a long time, but…” Barely perceptibly, he raised his shoulders in a shrug, as if to say the relationship wasn’t one he’d thought about in some time.

“Bottom line,” she said.

“Not enough sparks.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You? Boyfriend?”

“Never,” she deadpanned, telling herself she hardly wanted to contemplate what enough sparks might mean for Sullivan Steele. Seeing his doubtful glance, she felt something unexpected and sharp pierce her insides. For the next second, it hurt just to breathe. She was beautiful; Judith knew that. She had thick dark hair, an arresting face and china-white, unblemished skin. Men had always chased her, many hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer, and most had assumed she had a lot of experience, which she didn’t.

For the duration of a heartbeat, she found herself wishing Sullivan was just a tad sharper, enough to see through her carefully erected facade. Deep down, that was her wish, wasn’t it? she admitted, her heart aching. Didn’t she want someone to break through her defenses and teach her to love again? Pipe dreams, she thought. In her experience men only got close enough to find out she was skittish around them, then they dropped her.

Sully was squinting at her. “Never?

When she brought her attention back to his face, she tried not to notice the soft, teasing light shining from eyes that were usually harder and more suspicious, and the playful lift of a mouth that was usually compressed into a serious line—at the precinct, anyway. “You’re the one who’s under suspicion, Steele, not me.”

“And what have you found out tonight?”

She was still surveying those eyes, that mouth. “That you soften at home,” she said honestly.

“Is that right?”

She nodded. “Like a teddy bear. But then,” she added, “looks can lie. Besides, a cop’s salary didn’t buy all this.”

He shot her a look of mock disappointment, shifting the subject. “So, your interest in my ex-girlfriend is strictly business?”

“What else could it be?” Judith rolled her eyes as they continued walking, surprised to find herself growing more comfortable in the summer heat and with the equally hot sensual undercurrents flowing between her and Sullivan. “Have you forgotten I’m trying to put your father where the sun doesn’t shine?”

“You’ll never get the chance. I won’t bother again to say he’s innocent. I’m starting to sound like a broken record.”

“You’re awfully sure of your point of view,” she noted. “Haven’t you heard—pride goeth before a fall?”

“I’m confident, not prideful. And I don’t fall, Judith.”

“Never?” she asked, echoing his words.

“Never.”

He definitely looked confident. He always looked confident. “If you ask me, you’re a little too smug tonight. Too self-satisfied. What are you keeping from me?”

He looked surprised, then shrugged. “I just found out I’m going to meet someone…” those amber eyes glanced away “…a woman with whom I’ve had some contact, but never a face-to-face.”

“A work contact?”

He paused. “Personal.”

Not about to give the impression that she was interested in Sullivan’s love life, Judith decided not to probe, but she was caught off-guard by the sudden warmth flooding her. After all, she was in a similar situation. She’d just received a letter from the man with whom she’d been corresponding, and now his words played in her mind. I can’t believe you picked the bridge by Bethesda Fountain as our meeting place. When I was a kid, I learned to roller-skate there, and we—by we, I mean my parents and brothers—always stopped on that bridge for hot pretzels when we visited the Central Park Zoo. Believe it or not, when I’m stumped, I still go there, just to think. The bridge has been special to me for years….

She felt the same way, but for different reasons. Years ago, when she’d first come to Manhattan, she’d stood there, staring down at the pond, fountain and boathouse, and she’d made hard decisions about her future. Then she’d walked down to the fountain and tossed in pennies—nearly all the money she’d had at the time—and she’d made the wish that had guided her ever since, to follow in the footsteps of people who fought for justice.