Bannon Brothers: Honor

Book 2: Bannon Brothers

by Janet Dailey

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense; Western Romance

Synopsis

Never Let You Down Rugged. Tall. Built to last. Linc Bannon has it all--and he's there every time Kenzie needs him. Their mission is to serve their country stateside, Linc in high-level intelligence, Kenzie training combat dogs. Independent and sexy, Kenzie is definitely one of a kind--and the only one he wants. But if you ask her, she doesn't need a hero in her life. Until two of her friends, thousands of miles apart, are suddenly struck down. One, a soldier, is dead; the other, a civilian, is barely alive. Linc goes into action and uncovers a lethal web connecting the tragic events. A killer is at large, unhinged and with unfinished business. Now Kenzie has no choice but to join forces with the one man who can get past her defenses. . . Praise for Janet Dailey and Bannon Brothers: Trust "Dailey launches her Bannon Brothers trilogy with this fast-paced, compelling romantic mystery." -- Library Journal "Romance and suspense blend seamlessly into the tightly crafted plot." -- Romantic Times

Release date: July 11, 2012

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 352

Sample

An immense oak shaded the Maryland mansion beneath it, casting sun-dappled light through thousands of leaves. The tree and the house were the same age, survivors from a vanished and more gracious past. The lowest branches of the grand old oak arched down to the green lawn, providing an ideal backdrop for informal photos of the Bannon wedding party.

It was a perfect fall afternoon. The landscape was touched here and there with the scarlet and gold of sumac and native creeping vines, bright dashes of color against the shimmering water in the near distance. This late in the day, the blue sky shaded to indigo where the slanting rays of the sun had begun to retreat across the vast expanse of the Chesapeake Bay. The plantation estate that had once surrounded the mansion had stretched to its shores, lined with marsh grass turning green into gold.

Linc Bannon, the best man, and his brother Deke, the groomsman, took their places and followed the photographer’s directions. Turn this way. Smile. Best foot forward.

“Excellent,” the man said, nodding to his assistant, who dashed off to fetch the next group to pose. “Thank you, gentlemen. Very natural. You two could model.”

Linc shot Deke a doubtful look. “Him? Seriously?”

His younger brother chuckled and slipped off his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder. “That’s what I was going to say about you.”

The resemblance between them was unmistakable. They both had dark eyes and dark brown hair that the breeze was ruffling, and both were tall and well-built, with a rugged physicality that the formal wear didn’t hide. But the faint scar on Linc’s face was one difference that stood out. His authoritative stance marked him as the more responsible of the two. At the moment, Deke had other things in mind.

“Here come the bridesmaids,” he said, looking at several young women in taffeta whose gowns brushed the lawn as they ran over it to the oak.

Linc glanced at them. “You can turn on the charm.”

“I may be younger than you, but you could learn something,” Deke said solemnly. “Observe the master.”

A lovely brunette reached them first and singled out Deke with a flirtatious look. The shawl she’d thrown on over otherwise bare shoulders slipped down a strategic inch or so. She adjusted it with a graceful touch of her hand. “Hi, Deke. Are we next?”

Deke smiled down at her. “I believe you are. We’re heading back to the party.”

He nodded toward the striped tents set up for the reception where more than two hundred guests were circulating, eager to enjoy the social event of the season.

An hour or so later the celebration was in full swing, kicked off with several toasts. To the newlyweds, Erin and RJ Bannon. To the Montgomerys, Erin’s family, reunited at last. To RJ’s two brothers and their mother Sheila. To true love.

Waiters dashed around with artfully composed plates and napkin-swathed bottles of champagne while guests chatted animatedly and laughed and flirted and caught up on old times. Then the dancing began.

Linc leaned back in his chair and watched, fiddling with the stem of his narrow glass and thinking about who he wanted in his arms right now.

Kenzie, of course. Not that she was here. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. Not that it was any of his business.

At the moment, she considered him a friend. He was working on an upgrade, but she’d been busy lately. He’d invited her to the wedding as his guest, but she’d begged off, saying something vague about a previous commitment on the day. Professional, not personal. That was something. Anyway, he had no intention of giving up. She was definitely worth waiting for.

There was no shortage of gorgeous women at the reception, but not one was in her league, in his opinion. Kenzie was his definition of perfect. Smart. And sexy, with a super-fit, petite body that looked fantastic in a plain white T-shirt and camo cargos—her version of fatigues, now that she was no longer a soldier. Although Uncle Sam wanted her back.

A female guest strolled nearby, trilling a hello to a friend a few tables away. Linc looked idly at them as the woman stopped to chat, then realized she was holding a tiny dog wearing a ruffled collar in the crook of her arm. He’d taken it for a purse at first. Her pampered pet blinked and yawned as the woman moved away.

He shook his head, amused. Not Kenzie’s kind of dog, that was for sure.

She’d been a K9 trainer for the army, on a fast track right out of basic. Kenzie wasn’t one to brag, but Linc had been able to fill in the blanks from the bare facts she’d offered. Her knack for the work had gotten her quickly promoted to a position of critical importance: training military handlers assigned to new animals and developing new skill sets for the experienced dogs to keep up with what was going on in the country.

Then something had happened—she wouldn’t say what. She didn’t seem to want to reenlist. She didn’t seem to want to do anything but work. A lot.

Which was why he was solo on his brother’s wedding day.

Two weeks ago he’d stopped by the JB Kennels and seen her out in the field with a half-grown shepherd. Their jumps and leaps looked like pure joy, but he knew she was testing the pup’s reflexes and instincts. In time, under her tutelage, the young animal would learn to turn play into power. The sight of the two of them, twisting and turning in midair in mock battle, was something he would never forget.

Hell, Kenzie looked good even in thick bite sleeves and padded pants. But he let himself imagine her in something close-fitting and classy, her hair brushed to a silken shine and her head tipped back to gaze up at him as they danced to a slow number. Like the one the band was playing right now. . .

“Linc. You with us?”

He snapped out of his reverie and looked up at his younger brother. “Just thinking.”

Deke took hold of a bentwood chair, spun it around with one hand, and sat on it backward, resting his arms on the curved top and stretching out his long legs.

“About what? Or should I say who?” he asked shrewdly.

“Give me a break, Deke.” Linc took a sip of champagne and set the glass aside.

His younger brother wasn’t done ribbing him. “You’ve got someone on your mind. I can see it in your eyes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That moody, romantic, distracted look is what I’m talking about.”

“You’re imagining things, Deke.”

His brother only laughed. “Am I? Just so you know, one wedding per year is all I can handle. I’m not ready to see you walk down the aisle.”

Linc smiled slightly. “If I found the right woman, why not?”

Deke was tactful enough to quit at that point. He surveyed the crowd. “Look at all these gorgeous babes. How come you’re not dancing?”

“I’m waiting for a song I like,” Linc parried.

Deke gave up, shaking his head. “Okay. Have it your way.” He returned the inviting smile of the brunette on the other side of the dance floor. She brightened, but stayed where she was, smoothing the brilliant folds of her taffeta dress. “There’s my girl. I think she likes me.”

“Go for it. You’re not taken.”

“Neither are you.”

Linc only shrugged.

Deke turned his head and studied him for a long moment. “C’mon, bro. You can tell me. What don’t I know?”

“Nothing.”

Deke didn’t seem to believe that reply. “Wait a minute—there was someone. Her name was—it’s coming back to me—Karen, right?”

“Who?”

For a second, Linc drew a blank. Then he remembered. Months ago Kenzie had used that name when she’d showed up at Bannon’s door with a guard dog to loan him as a favor to Linc.

“Karen,” Deke said impatiently. “You know who I mean.”

Linc smiled. “Oh, yeah. Her. Ah, we’re just friends.”

Deke shot him a knowing look.

“If it changes, I’ll let you know,” Linc said calmly.

His brother lost interest when the brunette seized her chance and swept across the dance floor as the band paused. “I do believe she really is interested.” Deke ran a hand over his brown locks and asked, “How’s the hair?”

“Looks great. Very natural,” Linc teased, echoing the photographer’s comment.

“Shut up.” Deke straightened his lapels.

The two brothers rose at the same time, but Linc turned to go before the brunette arrived.

A group of younger guests, including Deke and date, decided to keep the celebration going when the reception formally ended, paying the limo drivers to take them to a nearby hotel for an impromptu after-party.

Linc took the red pickup he’d had since forever. He was sentimental about it, though his brother had nixed the old truck for the procession from the church. The car he drove every day was sleek, black, and not particularly noticeable.

Everyone except him headed straight for the noisy lounge to dance into the wee hours. He wandered away down a carpeted corridor, feeling a little lonely. Without intending to, he ended up in the hotel’s bar. It was mostly empty. There was only one other customer, an older man having a beer, but no bartender. The pounding music in the lounge was barely audible in the dim, luxuriously furnished room.

He slid onto a stool, folding his arms on the counter and looking around idly while he waited to be served. The liquor bottles arrayed in ranks behind the bar reflected blue light coming from an unseen source. The bar was dark otherwise, but he didn’t mind.

The bartender appeared from a door at the end of the polished counter and took his order, exchanging a few words with Linc as he put the drink on a napkin. Then he turned away to set up, setting clean glasses of various types on trays and filling up a compartmented container with slices of lemon and lime and bright red cherries.

Linc barely noticed. He took one sip and set the drink down, intending to make it last. He had nothing to do and nowhere to go except back to the lounge.

Later for that. He was truly tired, and it was catching up with him. Being the best man was serious work. Linc had rolled out of bed at six A.M. and barely had a chance to catch his breath since.

Zoning out over a cold drink felt fine. The TV over the bar offered the usual ten thousand stations via cable. Right now it was tuned to local news, on low. Good. He didn’t really want to listen. The weatherman was saying something about clouds rolling in.

So be it. The perfect day was over.

Linc undid his black silk bowtie, taking a deep breath or two as he eased the collar button open next. He wasn’t made to wear a monkey suit.

He half heard the reporter going on and on about an accident just outside of a town with a name he wasn’t going to remember. Not a pile-up, not a jackknifed semi, just a solitary car.

Filler. News shows made a huge deal out of a fender bender when there wasn’t anything else to yap about.

Then the live feed crackled and filled the screen behind the guy and Linc winced. The accident wasn’t minor. It looked like a rollover. Smashed frame, crumpled black chassis scraped to the gray undercoat in a lot of places, back wheels high in the air.

Linc could just make out an ambulance, a red and white blotch in the background, and activity around it, a stretcher being loaded. He got a glimpse of what looked like a head-and-neck stabilizer frame attached to the stretcher.

Fatalities got a body bag, not that rig. He automatically wished the injured person well—he or she was lucky to be alive.

He scowled when the cameraman evaded the highway patrol officer’s gaze and moved around for a close-up of the nearly totaled vehicle. The reporter on the scene dogged him, trying to stay in the frame and not always succeeding. They both knew what would get on TV: a dramatic shot, preferably with blood.

Good thing there were a few seconds of lag time before any broadcast, Linc thought. Imagine the shock of recognizing a victim of a bad accident or seeing some identifying detail—

He pushed away his barely touched drink. Apparently that rule didn’t apply to the film crew of this two-bit TV station. Linc knew that license plate. There was only one word on it.

KENZYZ.

Jesus. The realization that he was looking at Kenzie’s crashed sports car hit him like a hammer blow. He’d parked next to it at her apartment more than once. The yellow racing stripes on the damaged black paint were half-hidden by wisps of smoke, but he could just make them out now. His glimpse of the license plate clinched it.

That had to have been her on the stretcher. Right now she must be inside the ambulance. He heard the siren kick up to a wail as the reporter kept on talking, one hand placed awkwardly on a back wheel, spinning it until a highway patrolman yelled at him to stop and got in front of the lens. A dark blue uniform filled the frame and someone at the TV station cut to a commercial.

Linc swore under his breath. He yanked a ten out of his wallet and tossed it on the polished wood of the bar, running out of the hotel to the parking lot.

Trying to think.

He’d only seen one stretcher—she must have been alone in the car. How bad were her injuries? He had to find her, and more importantly, help the cops and hospital personnel get info they might need.

Where the hell had he parked? He stopped, looked around wildly, and finally saw his truck, half-hidden by a catering van. He raced to it, unlocked the door, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine, shifting rapidly into reverse, backing out a little too fast. Somebody honked.

He didn’t care. He had to do something. Talk to the cops, find out who’d been notified. Her folks, of course—they’d make that call first. He could get the word out to others. After he was sure she was in a hospital with a top-notch trauma team.

His thoughts were spinning faster than his wheels. It came back to him that Kenzie’s parents were in Germany, her dad’s last posting before retirement; they’d just moved into base housing. The new phone number might not be in her emergency contacts. She had no brothers or sisters. He only knew a few of her friends. By name. Not well.

Linc found his smartphone and jammed one end of a charger into the cigarette lighter and the other end into the phone so it wouldn’t die on him.

The name of the town—the reporter had said it. He cursed himself for not remembering. Summerton. Summerville. Something like that. It hadn’t rung a bell.

Then it came back to him. Summer River. Yeah, that was it. It sounded small. He hoped it wasn’t too far away.

Once he was west of the bay and back on roads he knew, he pulled over for a few seconds to get a locator app on his phone and tagged the nearest big hospitals to Summer River that qualified as trauma centers. With mangled wreckage like that, she could be critically injured.

Setting the phone to GPS mode, he gunned the truck out onto the road again. Navigating the turns at top speed took concentration, but it still gave him too much time to think. He and Kenzie had barely gotten to know each other in all the months since they’d met. The universe wasn’t fair.

He drove faster, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror for following cops. The federal ID he carried would get him waved on about an instant after it was requested, but he didn’t want to waste even that much time with John Law.

Where had she been going?

She never was home much, out of town on training gigs more often than not while he’d been cooped up in a featureless building near Langley. His CO had him tracking a worm inside a secret government blacknet. Some hacker five thousand miles away didn’t like democracy.

He’d gotten rid of it. Damage repaired and bait left for the perpetrator. The free world would never know, but a couple of four-stars had come over from the Pentagon to personally shake his hand.

All that time. Gone. He shouldn’t have been so patient. He shouldn’t have waited for her to make the first real moves.

A few drops of rain hit the curved glass of the windshield by the time he raced down the bay road that would take him to I-95. Five minutes later, it was pouring. The glass was obscured by thick, spattering drops that made everything blurry.

An eighteen-wheeler overtook him on the left, throwing blinding spray back against his windshield. Linc swerved to the right, wondering if a rig that size had done in Kenzie’s car. Could be. But she’d been driving under clear skies.

Just let her be all right. That didn’t seem like too much to ask.

Merged into six fast-moving lanes, he headed straight for the largest hospital of the four he’d tagged, a few miles from the highway. The emergency room entrance was brightly lit, marked by a red sign. He screeched the truck into a parking spot and jumped out, barely noticing the pounding rain.

The ER didn’t seem busy. Talking into a slotted metal circle set into wire-mesh glass, he gave the intake clerk a basic explanation and got the runaround.

“The paramedics had her on a spine board before they lifted her into the ambulance. B. MacKenzie. Anyone by that name brought in?” He knew his voice was agitated, but he couldn’t control it.

“I just started my shift, sir.” She pursed her lips and looked at him disapprovingly, safe in her cubicle.

“But you have to have the admit list for today and tonight.” Linc pushed his wet hair back with one hand, aware that he looked like he’d been rolling around in an overflowing gutter. No doubt that was what she was thinking. He didn’t give a damn. But he had to be nice.

“I’ll look.” She began to shuffle through papers on her desktop. Very slowly.

“Maybe she went straight into surgery. How about the ICU? Help me out here.”

The intake clerk shook her head. “We don’t give patient information to anyone who asks. As a general rule, family members are allowed to visit patients, but you said you weren’t family.”

Next time he would lie. The clerk hadn’t said in so many words that Kenzie wasn’t there, so maybe she was. Right now he was ready to slam through the swinging doors that said Staff Only and find out for himself.

A clipboard landed on the counter next to Linc’s elbow and he turned to see a youngish woman wearing glasses. The tag pinned to her jacket said her name and under that, ER Supervisor.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

The intake clerk slid a disdainful look at Linc to indicate that he was. The ER manager peered at him through lenses that made her eyes wide and owlish.

“Can I help you?” she asked him crisply.

“Sorry to bother you. I’m looking for someone who may have been in an accident—”

“And you are?” she interrupted him.

“Her, um, friend.” He couldn’t suddenly turn into Kenzie’s brother in front of the unhelpful clerk. “My name is Linc Bannon—”

She interrupted him again. “And your friend’s name is?”

“Her last name is MacKenzie.”

“You don’t know her first name?”

“She goes by—never mind. Tell me something. How many MacKenzies do you get on an average night? Ten? Fifteen? Is she here or not?”

The supervisor kept her cool. “I’m trying to help you.”

She was. Linc collected himself. “Sorry. Look, I know I saw her crashed car on the news. Live on the scene—ambulance, highway patrol, the works. I couldn’t see her on the stretcher but they showed a close-up of the plates. It was a rollover. Maybe on I-95 or a connecting highway.”

“Can you narrow that down a little? You’re talking about a lot of road.”

“Somewhere around here, I think. The reporter said Summer River.”

The ER supervisor nodded. “That’s not far from us. Let me check the admit list.” Linc noticed that the clerk ducked her head down when she heard that and got busy with the papers again. “Sorry. No one by that name has come in.”

“Oh, here’s my copy,” the clerk muttered behind the glass. “The day person keeps moving my files.”

The supervisor frowned at her and turned to speak to him. Linc was getting the feeling that she was on his side.

“So—you said you recognized the car and the plates, but you didn’t see her. Is it possible that she wasn’t driving?”

Her remark startled him. “What?”

“A teenager could have swiped her car for a joyride. Unfortunately, they often wreck what they steal. So do car thieves, though they’re a little more careful. Anyway, we get both now and then.”

Linc blew out the breath he’d been holding.

“Try calling your friend first, just in case. Then try the Summer River police department. They wouldn’t necessarily have been the first responders, but they can run her name through a statewide database, and also connect you to the highway patrol.”

The voice of sanity. It worked. Linc got a grip. “That makes sense. Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

She nodded to him as her pager went off. “I’m sure you’ll find her.” She walked quickly away without a backward look.

Linc caught a glimpse of himself in the wire-mesh glass around the clerk’s cubicle. His hair had turned into a scruffy mess and dark stubble was putting in an unwanted appearance. The damp, wrinkled tuxedo jacket and the dangling ends of his silk bowtie didn’t help.

The intake clerk had her head down again, ignoring him. He jammed his hands in his pants pockets and walked quickly toward the wide double doors. The steel-framed glass panels opened with a hiss and out he went into the sluicing rain.

Chilled to the bone, he got back into his truck and slumped in his seat, reaching wearily for the smartphone, not seeing any messages on the little glowing screen.

Apparently his absence hadn’t been noted. No one who knew him had seen him enter the bar or leave it. No texts, no e-mails. He found Kenzie’s number and tapped the screen.

His call went straight to her voicemail. Maybe she’d shut off her phone, maybe her battery was dead. Given the uncertainty of her whereabouts, that didn’t reassure him.

Linc gave it a minute and tapped her number again. The recorded message was twice as irritating the second time around. The hell with it. He was going to drive to her place and see for himself if she was there or not.

He entered her address into the GPS search bar. It wouldn’t take that long to get there, unless the highway was under water. He sped out of the parking lot, spraying through puddles on either side.

Not slowing down until he went down the exit ramp, he pulled around the back of her apartment building a few minutes later. Her spot was empty. No surprise. The wreck wouldn’t have been towed here. He craned his neck and looked through the windshield. Her windows on the third floor glowed amber.

Maybe the ER supervisor had guessed right. But he hadn’t seen or talked to Kenzie yet.

He got out and made his way to the rear entrance. If she was there, he wanted to actually set eyes on her.

There was a long rectangle of opaque glass just above the entrance, meant to illuminate the stairwell during the day. Right now it was lit up, but not brightly. He saw a shadow move quickly down from the third floor to the second, then disappear.

No one came out.

He didn’t think too much about it. Linc pushed open the door and glanced at the security camera, an old clunker, positioned high in a corner. It didn’t move. The lens was flat black, with no gleam to its glass. Painted over, he thought distractedly, taking the stairs two at a time. No one was going to see him, as if that mattered.

He reached her floor and opened the fire door onto a long hall. Another shadow appeared at the other end, then vanished so swiftly he thought he’d imagined it.

He was dead beat by now. Tired wasn’t the word. The mad dash down too many roads and the stop at the hospital had disoriented him. Linc didn’t like feeling so off balance.

There were no more shadows. The fixtures in the hall provided even light. He heard nothing except the faint sound of water running somewhere in the building. Linc walked halfway down the hall before he realized that her door was ever so slightly ajar. A thin slice of golden light edged it.

He tensed. Had someone else noticed it was unlocked and tried it from the outside, then run away just as he’d opened the stairwell door? No telling.

His hand moved automatically inside his jacket for a weapon that wasn’t there. His fingers brushed the smooth lining of his tux. No gun, no nothing.

And no sound from inside. Linc shoved the door open.

He choked as an unseen arm shot around his neck and pressed against his windpipe. Linc felt like someone was climbing his back, fast. He reached up to yank the arm away but in a split second his wrist got grabbed and forced behind his back.

Gasping, he arched his back until he broke free of the steel-strong hold and—damn. Cracked his head against the door. The pain was blinding.

He whirled around, dizzy, and swung a fist. Didn’t connect. Something wet slapped his arm . . . long, wet, whipping hair. His attacker was on the small side and had ducked the roundhouse punch. He stared at her, collecting his wits.

“Kenzie?”

She immediately straightened, standing with her arms akimbo and her clenched hands braced against her hips, her breath heaving in her chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “Did you pick my lock or something?”

He sucked in air, his throat swelling from the pressure she’d applied, raw on the inside.

“No. Door—was open. Thought I—saw—” He gasped the words, recovering slowly. “Somebody out here.” He waved at the hall. “Maybe running away.”

Her green eyes widened. “What?” She moved to look down the hall for herself, both ways. “There’s no one there.”

“Hope not.”

She came back in and shut the door hard, then slid the inside bolt into place. “Sometimes it doesn’t latch unless I kick it. Are you all right?”

“Maybe.”

Kenzie kept her distance, but came a little closer. He noticed, vaguely, that she was wearing something white and short. “You scared me half to death.”

He patted her shoulder, which seemed to be bare, for some reason. She smelled awfully good, but it didn’t seem like the right time to nuzzle her or anything like that. At least she didn’t pull away or whack him.

Reassured by the thought, he stumbled to her couch and dropped down heavily. “Had to come. Too bad I didn’t know your first name.” He looked up at her, still not able to think straight. His head hurt like hell where he’d cracked it. “B is for—?”

“Babe,” she replied. “My dad thought it was cute. I can’t stand it, never could. So don’t switch.”

“Okay, okay. Sorry, Kenzie.”

“Why are you even here?”

She seemed more mystified than angry.

“For a very good reason. I saw the accident on TV.”

Someone who kinda had it coming, a car thief or a stupid punk, had been taken away on that stretcher. Not Kenzie. She was right here, real as could be. He felt relief wash through him.

“What accident? You’re not making sense.” She came over and sat beside him, her bare arms folded across her chest.

Linc took a deep, rasping breath, then another. “Don’t you ever answer your phone?”

“Not in the shower.”

He finally figured out that she was wearing only a terry wrap thing tied in a knot above her breasts.

Shower. Right. So that was why she hadn’t heard him.

But that didn’t explain why the door had been cracked open. Her explanation—that it had to be kicked to latch right—didn’t do it for him. Kenzie wasn’t an airhead.

But everybody made mistakes. He’d spent most of the last hour doing just that.

Ow. He was hurting way too much to form a coherent thought. And he was distracted. The wrap was extremely short, at least from where he was sitting. Out of respect and the growing awareness that he’d made a world-class fool of himself by coming here unannounced, he did his best not to look too long at her bare legs, as slender and shapely as her arms.

No fluffy slippers for her—her feet were bare too. And recently pedicured. Golden bronze toenails, polish flawlessly applied, not a chip to be seen.

That could be why she hadn’t kicked the door. He told himself not to ask if that was the reason, for fear of sparking her self-protective instincts a second time. He forced himself to look up, all the way up. Her dark, wet hair trickled little rivers over her shoulders. Linc felt weak.

“Kenzie—ah—you do have a helluva chokehold.” His voice was coming back but he stopped to breathe. She was alive, even if she’d half killed him. That was good. “I seem to remember you telling me you aced hand-to-hand back in basic.”

“Yes, I did. And I still practice.”

“Good for you.” Linc coughed. “But you need to work on recognizing friendlies. Make yourself a chart or something.”

She got up again and tugged at the wrap. Was it slipping?

“How was I supposed to know it was you, Linc?”

“God, I’d hate to be your enemy.” He blinked. “Now I’m seeing sparks.” He forced his eyes closed, but the sparks didn’t go away. “Blue sparks. Wow.”

She seemed unimpressed. “How much champagne did you have at the reception?”

He didn’t answer the question. “It was fun. But I kept thinking about you.” He rubbed his eyes, then his neck. “Ouch. Those nerves are waking up. You know how to hang on.”

Bare, bronze-polished toes tapped impatiently on the carpet. “I’m waiting for an explanation. Right now would be a good time.”

“You bet. Here goes.” He launched into a fast recap of his search for her, starting with the news report.