Midnight Heat (6 page)

“That’s a propeller fin,” she said.

“From inside the compressor section of a jet engine. I have one very similar to it. Of course, mine’s a little worse for the wear. It was one of the few recognizable pieces left after a crash I investigated about five years ago. And even then it took some imagination to figure out what it was.”

Dane kicked himself for saying anything. Why had he opened himself that way? And if what he did for a living repulsed her, why should he care? But he did.

He turned to her to gauge her reaction. Plain to see, on her face, was simple understanding. She stepped closer and he saw more—interest, along with a healthy dose of curiosity. And she was making no effort to hide any of it.

She nodded to the propeller blade. “That was actually an award given to my father after he averted what could have been a major air disaster. He saved it from going to your collection, I guess.” She smiled. “I’ll show you the rest of mine, if you show me yours.”

Something hot and heavy punched him low in the gut. Right at that moment Dane couldn’t think of one thing he’d like better than to play show-and-tell with Adria Burke.

Again, he’d been in her presence for all of
five minutes and he’d lost his professional edge. If he’d ever truly had one around her. He cleared his throat as he set the fin down and stepped away. “Perhaps some other time,” he said, hating the stiffness of his tone, even though he’d intended it.

Her smile faded, but the curiosity in her gaze remained. He didn’t think she was still thinking about their respective collections either.

Dane fought the urge to fidget with his tie. He never fidgeted.

“Would you like something to drink? Iced tea?”

“Coke,” they said simultaneously. She laughed.

Dane wanted to groan. “That would be fine. Thanks.”

He sat on the couch and straightened his tie. Twice.

Adria pulled two glasses down from the cabinet and held one of them against her forehead. The man had presence all right. She’d spent time with him in two small, airless rooms and held her own. Now she was in a big, airy house—
her
house—and he seemed more imposing than ever.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me
yours,” she muttered under her breath. What in the hell had she been thinking?

She knew what
he’d
been thinking. And she found herself not minding it all that much. In fact—

Adria quickly filled the glasses with ice and Coke, took a deep, steadying breath. Think about how you’re going to explain last night’s phone call, she ordered herself, and not the fact that the four-poster bed you’ve pictured him looming over—naked—is right upstairs. She groaned. Not picturing Dane Colbourne naked. Talk about mission impossible.

“Here we go,” she said a bit too brightly as she entered the small living room.

He stood and took the glass she extended to him. “Thanks.”

They both sat down, he on the couch, she several feet away on a bentwood rocker. Any safety she’d felt with the small distance evaporated when he pinned her with that gaze of his.

“What did you want to see me about?” she asked quickly, deciding to let him go first. “Did you find out anything on who’s talking to the
Post
?”

Dane shook his head. “Nothing on that.”

“Anything on the third plane?” She hated the obvious thread of hope in her voice, but it couldn’t be helped.

Again, Dane shook his head.

Frustration snapped and unraveled inside her like old elastic. Adria bounced up and immediately began pacing. “But the primary
was
there. It had to be on the tapes.” She was talking to herself more than to Dane. She’d barely slept since the incident.

She turned again to Dane. “Is there
any
way the tapes could have been tampered with?”

He stared at her with something that remotely resembled disappointment. So she turned and paced back to the fireplace rather than look at him.

“Whatever tangible evidence there is on this case, we’ll find it, Adria.”

She whirled on him. “You keep saying that, but I’m not seeing any of it!”

Dane stood and closed the distance between them. “That’s because there’s damn little out there to be found.”

“Then keep looking.” She ducked around him, crossed back to the couch, and sat. A sip of her drink cooled her a little.

Dane sat down next to her. “I’m getting some additional pressure to turn in my preliminary findings. And I have to tell you, what I have right now doesn’t make you look too good.”

Determination surged through her, helping her hold on to what was left of her control. “Maybe I can give you something.”

His gaze narrowed dangerously. “Maybe you what?”

“I got a phone call at three o’clock this morning. A warning.”

“Whoa, back up.” He pulled a pen and notepad from his inner jacket pocket. “Do you know who it was?”

Adria stifled a sigh. God forbid she just tell him anything straight out. It had to be at his command. “No,” she said evenly. Her tense expression daring him to interrupt, she continued. “The person whispered, so I can’t be sure if it was someone I know or not. I couldn’t even tell the gender.”

“What exactly did they say? Word for word.”

“Don’t talk to the press again.”

“That’s it? Don’t talk to the press again?” He snapped the notebook shut and slipped it back inside his jacket.

Repeating the caller’s words out loud made them seem even more real. Ominous. But obviously he didn’t share her concern.

“Isn’t it enough? Someone is threatening me, for goodness’ sake.”

“Did they say that?” he asked, clearly unimpressed.

“Well, no, but it
is
implied.”

“Implied? Not really,” he said. “Not that that will carry any weight.”

“Well, it did with me!” She’d never match
him in calm demeanor, so why bother pretending? “I don’t know about you, but being woken up in the middle of the night by a menacing voice on the phone isn’t my idea of no big deal. Someone knows I talked to Sarah Greene.”

He didn’t say anything for several beats. There were times when his unruffled manner infuriated her. Okay, most of the time
he
infuriated her. She purposely crossed her legs and her arms, letting body language do her talking.

Dane downed the rest of his drink and remained silent a few moments more. “Okay, I’ll see what I can turn up.”

“Thank you,” she said, a shade too dryly. She loosened her arms, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair. He seemed to relax a bit as well. It was hard to tell.

“There is a reason why I stopped by,” he said.

Adria kept her casual position, but something in his tone made her want to hug her arms close again. This time for comfort. “Why do I get the feeling I’m going to like this about as much as getting crank calls at three
A.M
.?”

“The two planes involved”—he shot her a warning look when she opened her mouth to correct him, then went on—“have been examined. Both are missing some pieces of fuselage.
Right now we’re determining the ground area where they’re most likely to turn up.”

Adria quickly put together the importance of this information. “If you find anything that’s not a part of either plane, then that will substantiate my theory.” She tried not to let the excitement build inside her, but it was good news badly needed. Her emotions had been on the worst sort of roller-coaster ride, one she didn’t seem able to get off. “How long will it take?”

“It’s a very broad area, some of it forested. It may take some time to cover it all. And they may not find anything at all,” he warned. “It happens sometimes. I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high.”

“It’s my whole life we’re talking about here,” she said quietly. “I
have
to hope.”

Dane nodded. “Even if they do find something, it might not prove conclusively that a third plane was involved. In which case, we’re right back to where we started.”

“Not exactly,” she countered. “Someone thinks there is something important enough about this investigation that the idea of me talking to the press is making them nervous. I’m not playing Tom Clancy here, Dane. But I honestly believe that the third plane is somehow tied up with the phone call.”

Whatever Dane thought of her theory
wasn’t readable in his expression. No surprise there.

“I’ll let you know if the search teams find anything,” was all he said. He stood and headed to the foyer.

Adria stood as well, surprised to find herself wishing he’d stay. But she’d exposed her emotions and vulnerability to him more than enough for one day. Besides, wasn’t handling stuff like this all part of the independence she wanted so badly?

He suddenly turned around, causing Adria to skid to keep from walking right up into his chest. She hadn’t realized she’d been practically running after him.

“If you get any more phone calls, get in touch with me right away.” He pulled a card out of his infamous inner pocket and jotted a number on the back, then handed it to her. “My home number.”

She stared down at the neat, precise writing. So legible it could have been typewritten. Figured. “You should have been a doctor.”

Confusion creased his forehead.

“Your handwriting. Nurses and pharmacists across the country would revere you.”

He looked a little nonplussed, but said, “Thanks. I think.” The corners of his mouth kicked up slightly.

God help her if he ever actually smiled. “I, uh, no problem.” Oh great, now she was stuttering.
She leaned forward to open the door, hoping he didn’t see the heat she felt in her cheeks.

She didn’t move back quite fast enough and Dane’s chest brushed along her arm and breast as he moved past her. Now heat was a problem in more body parts than she could hide. She took a step back, hoping he’d leave quickly.

Dane was halfway out when he turned again, forcing Adria to face him. She wanted to groan. What was it about this man? Go. Stay. Both words were on the tip of her tongue.

“If there is more to this, I’ll find it. Trust me on that.”

She realized she did. Not just because she was strongly attracted to him. Or because she had no one else to trust. But because of his decency. Granted, it was well hidden most of the time behind his autocratic attitude, but bottom line—Dane Colbourne was a decent man.

She just hoped he was as good an investigator as he kept insisting he was. It was becoming alarmingly apparent he’d have to be if she had a prayer of coming out of this mess with her career intact.

“Thank you. Will you call me when you find out anything?”

He gave her the sort of stare that made her
supremely self-conscious. The sort of stare that made her
really
wish she wasn’t wearing raggedy shorts.

If she was as candid as she liked to think she was these days, she’d admit it was the sort of stare that made her wish she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

She felt herself lean toward him as if drawn into his heat. He lifted his hand toward her face, then just as suddenly dropped it.

“I’ll be in touch, Adria,” he said, his voice darker and a bit rough. This time he walked away without looking back.

Adria
. First “the look,” then “the name.” She watched him drive off, and only when he was completely out of sight did she give in to the need to fan herself. And it had nothing to do with the August sun.

Dane jerked his head off his desk when the phone beside his ear leaped to life and threatened to deafen him. A quick glance at the clock showed it was two-thirty in the morning. He’d been asleep for less than thirty minutes. He grabbed the receiver before the second ring, a sinking feeling telling him that those scant thirty minutes were all he was going to get. Please, he asked silently, let all the planes be in the sky where they belong.

“Colbourne.”

“It’s Adria Burke. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He bolted upright. Disturb him? You don’t know the half of it, he thought morosely. Most of those thirty minutes he’d spent sleeping had featured Adria as the star player in erotic
dreams. “What’s wrong? Did you get another call?”

“Yes. Just now.”

“Same person?”

“I couldn’t tell. I think so.”

“Same message?”

“No.”

She sounded anxious, but not hysterical. Still, that she didn’t immediately burst into a full explanation spoke volumes to him. She was spooked.

“I’m glad you called.” He hoped she didn’t read the depth of sincerity there was in those words. “Will you be able to go back to sleep?”

A moment’s hesitation, then: “Probably not.”

He held back the question her response immediately prompted him to ask. His restraint lasted about five seconds. “You want to talk?” Her long sigh told Dane he’d done the right thing. The pleasure that gave him made him wonder if it might also be his biggest mistake. “You got any Coke?”

If a smile could be heard, he heard hers. “I think I can manage that,” she said.

Dane instantly felt revved up to full speed. “I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

“Thank you, Dane.”

Damn, did she have to say his name like that? All soft and breathy? It had been a long time since he’d heard anything that sounded
half as good as Adria Burke’s voice at two-thirty in the morning. Dane gripped the phone tighter. “No problem.” He worked hard for nonchalance. “I’m up, you’re up. We might as well go over it now. If the phone rings before I get there, let the machine get it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Even tired and unsettled, she didn’t let up on him. “I like ‘Dane’ better,” he said before he thought better of it.

This time he hung up first.

Adria met him at the door with a huge glass, filled almost to the rim with ice and Coke.

“Thank you,” he said. She smiled lightly and traded the glass for his briefcase.

“Come on in.”

He followed her down the hall, nursing the Coke, taking in her clothes. He couldn’t say which was worse—the ragged cutoffs she had on last time or the gray sweats she now wore and that clung to her legs. Her shirt wasn’t as old as the Redskins jersey, but she’d tucked it in, revealing the shape of her backside.