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“He’s a social worker in Richmond.”
“Go on,” he urged.
She couldn’t talk about Patrick without revealing the pro bono work she did for Child Protective Services. She didn’t know why she was so reluctant to share that with Jason.
“Are you romantically involved?”
“Of course not.” She couldn’t quite suppress a smile at the thought of kissing Patrick Dougherty. At fifty years old, he carried about thirty extra pounds and his ruddy face bore the evidence of a hard life. He drank too much, but she couldn’t even blame him for that. He was a good man, and he’d seen some terrible things during his years as a social worker. She’d probably drink, too, if she was in his position.
“Then why are you smiling?”
Caroline gave Jason an exasperated look. “He and I have worked together on some child welfare cases, okay? But he’s old enough to be my father, and even if I was into older guys, he’s not my type.”
He looked at her with sharp interest. “You work child welfare? I thought you handled corporate law.”
“I do some pro bono work on the side for the city of Richmond.”
“What kind of pro bono work?”
Caroline hesitated. He had shared his background with her. The very least she could do was tell him about her work, even if it meant he would guess the impact he had made on her life. “I’m a child advocate, mostly working with kids who’ve run away from home or gotten into trouble. I try to keep them out of juvie, make sure they have a safe place to go every night.”
Jason was silent for several minutes. “You’re more like your father than you want to admit. Does your pro bono work have anything to do with a certain angry kid that your dad once rescued?”
She risked a glance at his face, but his expression was so tender that she found herself coming clean. “You’re the reason for everything I do, every decision I make. I couldn’t even come back to San Francisco because I was too afraid I would see you, and that you’d reject me like you did all those years ago.”
“You know why I had to do that.”
Caroline nodded. “Do you think my father ever guessed?”
“What? That I had the hots for his daughter?”
“Oh, right,” she scoffed. “No, that I had the hots for you.”
Jason gave a half smile. “I think he knew. I wanted to know everything that was going on in your life, and I wasn’t always so subtle or smooth in getting the information from him that I wanted.”
Caroline stared at him. “You used to ask my father about me?”
He actually had the grace to look embarrassed. “Well, not directly, of course. But I pretty much knew everything you were doing, even when I was away at school.”
“I never knew. My father never said a word.”
“He probably didn’t want to encourage it. I’m sure I wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned for his daughter.”
“That’s not true. You were the son he always wanted.” Dipping her head, she pressed a lingering kiss against his mouth. “For myself, you were just the guy I always wanted.”
She was unprepared when Jason hauled her into his arms and hugged her tightly against his chest, his face buried in her neck.
“I’m glad.”
* * *
JASON DIDN’T WANT to leave Caroline alone, but he was anxious for any news about the break-in at the beach house and if the subsequent inspection of the property had yielded any clues. But there was no way he was letting her out of his sight, even to make some phone calls.
There was a new intimacy between them, and he was aware that her eyes followed him when she thought he wasn’t looking. For his part, he just wanted to keep her locked in the hotel room until an arrest was made, and maybe even afterward. He wasn’t taking any chances with her safety.
After their shower, they dressed and Jason ordered breakfast from room service. She had been adamant that he review the files on the medical malpractice cases and that he have the FBI look into the families involved. As a U.S. marshal, Jason had certainly seen people do violent things in the name of love, but his gut instinct told him that the shooter was either connected to Eddie Green or Conrad Kelly. Both men were formidable in their respective spheres. They had connections and could easily have ordered the attack without fear of reprisal. But he agreed that they would follow up on the malpractice cases.
“So what do we do now?” she asked. She sat on the bed, the pillows propped behind her as she reviewed yet another case file. She’d retrieved a narrow pair of reading glasses from her overnight bag, and they sat perched on the end of her nose as she simultaneously ate a fruit parfait and read through the documents. With her hair down and wearing a loose pair of pajama bottoms and a camisole, she looked incredibly sexy.
