Yes, it was—at least to her. And if he did want her in his life, then what role would she be playing if not a partner? A friend? It certainly couldn’t be as a lover—not if his determined lack of reaction to her physically was anything to go by. Or was he merely reacting that way because she was his partner? Did he perhaps believe in not combining work and play? Or had he, she thought, remembering his first partner had been a woman, tried it once, and sworn never to do it again after losing her? That was most certainly the answer, though why she was so certain she couldn’t say. It was just a conviction she felt deep inside.
She just wished he’d trust her enough to confide in her. Maybe then she could make him see how stupid he was being. But until he said something, she couldn’t.
Izzy twirled onto the com-screen. “There’s a call from a General Frank Lloyd on vid-screen. You want to take it?”
Sam glanced at Gabriel. He slid off the desk and stood near her chair—close enough to see the screen but out of direct line of sight.
“Patch it through, Izzy.”
General Frank Lloyd came onscreen. “Agent Ryan, I presume?” His voice, like his appearance, was powerful.
She nodded. “What can I do for you, General?”
“I need to know why you have requested information on these thirteen people before we can go any further.”
“We have a number of murder victims that may be linked with Hopeworth. They’re certainly linked with an Emma Pierce, who worked at Hopeworth for a number of years. In fact, Emma Pierce may be the mother of at least two of the victims.”
The general’s sharp blue gaze narrowed slightly. “I see.” He rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, fingers interlaced. “I’ll be in the city this evening, attending the opera. Perhaps we could meet afterward?”
Gabriel grabbed a pen and paper, quickly scribbling. She glanced at it. “I’ve heard there’s a very good restaurant in the South Bank—Han’s, I believe it’s called. Shall I make the reservations?”
“Around eleven should be suitable.”
She nodded. “See you then, General.”
The screen went dead.
“Well, well,” Gabriel murmured. “A call from a general, no less. Your request for information certainly raised a few alarms.”
“Have you heard of the general before?”
“No. But a Dr. Frank Lloyd attended the birth of both Raylea Burns and Anna Jakes.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. “The same man, you think?”
“It’s too much of a coincidence, otherwise.”
“Why meet at a restaurant? Why not at Hopeworth? Or even here?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Neutral territory, perhaps? I doubt they’d let us near Hopeworth, anyway. The place has a level-ten security clearance.”
Which meant top of the tree. Not even Stephan’s autocratic Byrne persona would get in there.
“I gather you intend coming with me tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll contact Han and arrange for us to be in the Dragon Room.” He hesitated. “The restaurant is quite upmarket. Nothing casual allowed, I’m afraid.”
She raised an eyebrow. “The last time I was there, I was dressed decidedly casual.”
“Yes, but Han’s wasn’t officially open.” He hesitated, then looked away. “I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”
“It’s a date, Assistant Director.”
He flashed her a grim look, and she smiled and watched him walk from the room. Sometimes, he was extraordinarily easy to rattle.
And that, just maybe, should be her line of attack. Damn it, there was something between them, and he had to be aware of it. Rather than sit back and wait for him to make a move, as she usually did when it came to men, maybe she needed to take the reins and lead the way. The worst that could happen was that he’d say no.
And as he was already doing that in other areas, what was one more rejection?