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They were sating a need. Satisfying a curiosity. Pleasing each other with what nature gave them.
It wasn’t about tomorrow or what came next. It was about that moment. The hedonistic satisfaction of two people enticed by a potent magnetism so powerful it hadn’t needed words. It went unsaid. Yet, they’d both let it take them over. Only time would tell if either of them would live to regret it.
CHAPTER SIX
“YOU’VE GOT ISSUES.”
“You have no idea, Steeple,” she said, sitting opposite her boss at his desk the next day. “No idea.”
“What’s with him?” he asked, looking toward the glass panels in his wall that showcased the bullpen beyond.
More specifically, to the guy standing guard, blocking the panel by the door. That she’d kept him on the other side of it was a small mercy. One not to be taken for granted.
“That’s Daly.”
“Yeah, and according to my sources, he works for the McDades.”
She laughed. “You sit behind your desk and leave all the hard work to us. What sources do you have?”
“You know the golden rule,” he said, swinging left to right in his chair.
“I don’t give up sources because mine are real. Yours are imaginary, less chance they’ll get in trouble.”
“I paid my dues for plenty of years. My sources haven’t dried up yet,” he said. “Am I wrong?”
“About Daly? No. He’s on McDade payroll.”
“And his interest in you?”
“Is this why you called me in here?” she asked. “To quiz me about Daly?”
“Are you avoiding the question?”
“Are you interrogating me?”
“Is this something to do with the flowers that show up three times a week?”
“Are you asking about my personal life?”
Everyone noticed. Of course their natures were to get to the bottom of mysteries. Her colleagues couldn’t have missed the bouquets, but this was the first time Steeple asked her straight out.
Her boss wasn’t confrontational. How many times had he reminded his reporters that honey often reaped more bees? This was less interrogation and more curious sparring. Still, she wasn’t sure Steeple was ready to hear the truth. Or that she was ready to tell it.
“That what the McDades are to you?” he asked. “Personal?”
“Steeple,” she said, warning him his teasing was growing old.
“Okay. Okay,” he said, laughing as he pushed back in his chair. “You ruin all my fun.”
He didn’t know how close he was to a raw nerve.
“What did you need me for?” she asked.
“I don’t need you, I… How close are you and Immie these days?”
“Imogen?” she asked. “Stratford? Imogen Stratford?”
“Yeah,” he said.
