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“We’re not kids, Cooper,” she whispered. “If we don’t stop, we both know where this is going.”
“I know.” Still breathless, he eased her away from him. “But if anything happens, it’s not going to be in this Jeep.”
“Or in the house with your son.” She gave a little laugh as she rearranged the front of her jacket. “I think we need to give this some time.”
“You’re right. It’s too good to rush.” He kissed her again, gently this time. “Come on. Let’s go on inside and get some sleep. You’ve got work in the morning, and I’ve got deadlines on a couple of articles.”
He came around the vehicle, helped her out, and escorted her to the house with one hand on the small of her back. Jess’s pulse was still racing. Things were happening so fast. Part of her wanted to charge headlong all the way. But no, she and Cooper were sensible people. They would take things slowly, give their relationship the test of time. If what they’d found was for keeps, it would be worth the wait.
* * *
The porch light had been left on, as well as the light above the kitchen stove. Otherwise, the house was dark. Cooper checked Trevor’s room and found him asleep. For a moment he was tempted to lure Jess into the living room for a cuddle session next to the Christmas tree. But that would likely end in frustration, and she had work in the morning.
Instead, he allowed her first chance at the bathroom, then gave her a chaste good night kiss. “Sleep tight. See you in the morning,” he said.
After she vanished into her room, Cooper undressed and went to bed. At first, he was too elated to fall asleep. Jess in his arms, warm and willing, with the promise of more to come, was better than a dream come true. But he was tired. Fantasies became dreams as he sank into sleep.
Sometime after midnight, the wind howling beneath the eaves of the house startled him awake. Unable to go back to sleep, he lay with his eyes open, gazing up into the darkness. As he listened to the incoming storm, Jess’s tragic story drifted through his memory. Hearing it from her had opened the door to understanding this complicated woman. But one question remained.
When they’d first met, why had she seemed so familiar to him?
Had he seen her somewhere before? But that didn’t seem likely. As far as he knew, they’d never been in the same place at the same time. If they had, he wouldn’t have forgotten that stunning face.
So why should it matter now? He had fallen in love with her, and she seemed to return his feelings. Wasn’t that enough? For some men it might have been. But Cooper was driven by curiosity. It was one reason he was good at his job. He knew that the question would chew on him until he found the answer.
She’d mentioned the photographers at the scene of the tragedy, the annoying flashes as they snapped their photos. What if he’d seen her in one of those photos?
Now that he’d heard Jess’s story, he might be able to find out. He had a window for the date. And he had the location. Surely the local papers would have carried such a sensational story. It could even have gone national.
He would start with theReno Gazette-Journal. With luck they would have archived editions going back more than three years. Since the hostage situation and shooting had been local, they would probably have a photograph or two.
And if he recognized her, then what? What was there to learn that he didn’t already know?
If he didn’t find answers now, the questions would keep him awake for the rest of the night.
As he rolled out of bed and wrapped his flannel robe over his pajamas, a slight misgiving tugged at his conscience. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He’d just been gifted with the love of a wonderful woman. Why not be satisfied with that and let the rest go—or at least wait until tomorrow, when Jess would be out of the house?
But he was already headed out of the bedroom and moving down the hall.
Trevor’s door was closed. So was Jess’s. He would shut his office door and work quietly to keep from waking them. The blowing wind outside should cover any small sound he might make.
In his office, he closed the door behind him before switching on the desk lamp. Seated at the desk, he turned on his computer and brought up a search engine. In the search window, he typed inReno Gazette-Journal. The site came up—so far, so good. But finding the date would be harder.
Jess had told him it was three years ago. But now it was December. The resort would more likely have had families there in the summer. Checking each edition would take time. Maybe he could do a cross search forFBIorhostage, or even Jess’s name—the only name he had.
After several dead ends, he did a separate search for cabin resorts near Lake Tahoe. He came up with three possibilities. He ran each one through the newspaper archives. On the third try, he found a promising link and clicked on it.
As soon as the photo appeared, Cooper remembered where he’d seen the image—it had appeared inNewsweek, a magazine he subscribed to and usually read from cover to cover. It was hard to believe he ever could have forgotten it.
The picture, laid out here with others, was the kind of a once-in-a-lifetime shot every photographer dreams of—the perfect combination of light, angle, timing, and drama—the bereaved wife and mother springing like a wounded animal; the police officer, in silhouette, stepping in to stop her; and the light focused on Jess’s stunning face, revealing all the shock, horror, and anguish of the moment.
The photo, Cooper remembered now, had been up for some major awards. No wonder Jess had wanted to leave her old life behind and lose herself in a small town where nobody knew her. And no wonder she’d almost cringed when Cooper had mentioned that she looked familiar.
Oh, Jess . . .
He clicked on the photo to expand it to full screen. How much courage had it taken for her to tell him her story, to open up and love him? If he had his way, he’d make sure she would never know that kind of pain again.
“What do you think you’re doing, Cooper?”
