Love by Association

“Room 12334.”

“I’ve got it. And, Chantel...”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you called.”

She was glad, too. And drove home through the quiet Santa Raquel streets looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

* * *

COLIN WAS TEMPTED to call the resort and ask for her room. Just to wish her good-night a second time.

Just to hear her answer the phone.

To check up on her story.

Which was unacceptable. He wasn’t going to be that kind of man. That kind of person.

Don’t you trust me, Colin?

At work, it was his job to doubt everyone and everything, to check up on every possibility, to prepare for the worst in order to protect his clients.

At work, sometimes being lied to was a part of life, depending on the case. Defendants weren’t fond of admitting wrongdoing. Deny. Deny. Deny. That was the moniker at work.

Where Julie was concerned, he’d stop at nothing to protect her, only trusting as a last resort.

But in pursuit of an attractive woman? He couldn’t give in to the temptation to prove to himself that she was trustworthy. Not at every turn.

She’d issued a very direct challenge to him—Don’t you trust me? Mostly, he did. Which was extremely out of character.

But it was worth the discomfort of forcing himself to follow through on that trust with action. He’d see her in her room the next day at noon.

Until then, if he needed to reach her, he’d call her cell.

Like any well-adjusted, sane man would do.

For now, for a few hours, he’d allow himself to wallow in the pleasure of knowing that she’d called him back.

That she’d wanted to see him, again, too.

He wasn’t on this crazy ride alone.

* * *

LUNCH ON TUESDAY couldn’t have been better. Well, maybe it would have been if she hadn’t been undercover and could have actually enjoyed the ambience and the food. And the company.

Chantel checked herself. Ambience? Not a Harris word.

What could have been tempting danger—opening her hotel room door to Colin Fairbanks—had turned out to be innocuous. He’d called up to her room from the lobby, and she’d answered. Proof that she did, indeed, have a room.

From there, the lobby, they walked to the café, chatting about the grounds. Over menus they talked about his trip to Japan.

He never touched her. Nor did she touch him. Gone was the intimacy of his hand on her leg at the library, the near-kiss over dinner.

Maybe he was touching her more intimately with his focused attention, with the look in his eyes, but she chose to brush that thought aside. Her inner critic trying to sabotage her ability to get the job done. She’d have none of it.

By the time her chicken Caesar salad arrived—she was lusting after the open-faced meat-loaf sandwich that had been delivered to the table next to them—she was firmly at work.

She had the name of the arresting officer from the night of Julie’s rape. She’d told Colin she’d called the Santa Raquel Police Department, looking for some information pertaining to the case in her book. She’d been invited to visit the local precinct house. And wondered if the rogue cop was still there. Colin didn’t know. But had told her the guy’s name as he advised her to steer completely clear of him.

He didn’t want anyone associated with him and Julie to have contact with the guy.

She’d played on his protective instincts, and the play had paid off.

The emergency room doctor’s name was still a mystery to her. She’d been afraid to press her luck with another lie in such a short period of time.

On her way in to hook up with Daniel an hour later, she stopped off at Wayne’s desk, giving him the name of the police officer who’d met Colin and Julie at the emergency room the night of her rape. She also had to admit to Wayne that the details of the rape, and the perp, were still unknown to her. She was going to have to get those straight from Julie, whom Colin hadn’t seen since they’d dropped her off together after lunch on Saturday. With his trip to Japan, and then her being in LA until dinnertime on Monday and him having a dinner with clients, they’d conversed only through texts.

Apparently, she’d missed their usual breakfast together on Tuesday morning. Colin hadn’t been sure why. And had seemed a bit bothered by the lapse.

Chantel made a mental note to try to call the woman—from Johnson’s phone—if she had a break during her shift. She was going to keep the cell on her at all times in the future, to avoid another mishap like they’d narrowly escaped the day before.

While they could always come up with reasons why she wasn’t available at a given time, and would if they had to, the best way to keep anyone from getting suspicious, Wayne had said, was to be easily accessible.