Part 10 (1/2)
Sarah waited again, then pressed, ”Who?”
”Detective Gaynor.”
Sarah started to grin. ”The Lone Ranger strikes again. You must have made an impact at court.”
”Lone Ranger?”
”Some of us at the department started calling him that after the Teller case.”
”Why the Lone Ranger?”
”He took on the blue wall of silence by himself. Believe me, he suffered for it.”
”Didn't appear to be suffering to me.”
”He did,” Sarah said. ”I have a friend who was a secretary in his division. He was completely shunned. Except by the secretaries. The unmarried ones. They all thought he was hot.”
”Do you?”
”Not my type. I lean toward the safe accountant type.”
”Well, he's not my type, either.”
”Who is?” Sarah asked after she clicked the mouse again, saving more files.
Meredith shrugged. ”I just wish he'd picked another day. I'm not thinking well today.”
”You have reason. Why don't you go home? I'll back up the info on all the computers here and get the compact disks to the safe deposit box.”
She wanted to. G.o.d, how she wanted to.
No, she wouldn't. She 'said' she would be here. She 'would' be here. She hated the good little girl who always did the right thing, but neither could she shake it off because it 'was' the right thing. She would backtrack ten miles if she discovered she received more change than she should. She sighed and mentally devised a game plan. She would cut the discussion short, take the CDs to a safe deposit box, and head home to start the cleaning process. She would stop by the hospital later. The list for the police would have to wait.
She wouldn't take any guff from Gaynor this time. He would answer her questions before she answered his. She paced the floor, waiting for him, too restless to be of any value to Sarah or Becky. Her mind could not sort the events, much less prioritize what needed to be done.
Nor could it conquer the lingering fear, the sense of being violated. She'd been trying to forget it, to bury it, to cloak it all day. But the bandage on her arm continually reminded her of last night's terror.
She would 'not' let it take over her life.
The door to the office opened, and Gaynor entered, carefully balancing two large sacks. The impact of his presence was more than she had expected. He'd made her feel that way before, but then she'd been armored by the rumors circulating about him.
She detested crooked cops, and some officers had pointed fingers at Gaynor during the Teller investigation. That had been her first introduction to him, and she'd never learned the truth of it.
He was still with the department, though. And now he dominated her small reception area with his presence. Perhaps it was his sheer size. He had to be six-foot-three or more, and had a wide-shouldered, rangy body. But it was the confidence she'd noted before, the self-a.s.surance that was in every movement, that seized her attention.
He had immediately filled the room, crowding it with male energy. His eyes a.s.sessed her openly, frankly, and a dizzying current raced through her. Dammit, she didn't know why--or how--he always affected her in such a sensuous way. It was ... disconcerting. More than that. Maddening.
”Five m.u.f.falettas as ordered,” he said after a brief pause. She wondered whether he felt that same odd electric awareness.
”Five?”
”Two for me.”
”The sandwiches were huge. She could usually eat only half of one, if that much.
”I burn a lot of fuel,” he said, obviously reading her mind. His gaze went to the bandage on her arm.
”From last night?”
”Yes.”
”I'm sorry.”
”Why? You didn't have anything to do with it.”
He shrugged. ”It's my city.”
”Mine, too.”
”You're not protecting it any longer.” It was a little bit of an accusation.
She was mesmerized by those green eyes. They weren't icy now. Something flared in them, and she suddenly knew he felt the same infuriating attraction. And didn't like it any better than she.
She forced herself to take one of the bags, place it on the table in front of the sofa and start taking out sandwiches. He took six tall cups from the second bag. ”I have three of ice tea and three of cola.”
Meredith called Becky and Sarah to get some food, then took an iced tea and m.u.f.faletta. ”My office?” she suggested to him.
”Sure.”
He took two of the sandwiches and a cola and followed her down the short hall into her office, his gaze sliding past the law books, the license and the degrees hanging on the walls and lingering on her untidy desk.
”Sit down,” she said, clearing off a s.p.a.ce for the food. ”Sorry about the desk.” She'd been going through recent cases, looking for names, as requested by the police.
”I have a theory about that,” he said with a grin.
Several seconds went by. She wondered whether he was baiting her. ”What?” she said.
”If a cluttered desk suggests a cluttered mind, then what does an empty desk suggest?”
She smiled at that. She'd needed a distraction, and he'd apparently known that. She suspected he was a very good interrogator. Despite their earlier sparks, he had immediately put her at ease.
At least he would have, had the attraction not radiated between them. His very presence shrunk the room and raised the temperature considerably. At least for her.
She forced her attention back to the food. She was hungrier than she'd thought, and the m.u.f.faletta looked wonderful. She loved the things, but seldom indulged. The huge freshly baked loaves, still hot from the oven, held layers of ham garnished with a spicy olive dressing.
She took a bite and sighed with pleasure, then put it down. ”Can we get on with it? I want to get home, then to the hospital.”
”You're not going home alone?”
”The detective last night had the locks replaced.”