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“Ah.” Carly couldn’t help but smile. “I wondered about that.”
Shane laughed and sipped at his wine. “It still shows, huh?”
“Just a tad,” she said, tongue in cheek.
“Guess it’s a good thing you never met me back then.” Carly shook her head at him, but didn’t say anything. She looked down at her nearly full plate and at Shane’s empty one, then pushed her plate toward him. “You’re not hungry?” he asked.
“Not really. I had a late lunch in Philly after the press conference.” She watched as Shane made quick work of her leftovers and smiled to herself because it seemed to be another little sign of how he felt about her. Her dad used to do that with her mom, finishing what her mom wasn’t hungry for. Most Americans wouldn’t even consider eating off someone else’s plate—but husbands and wives did it all the time.
Stop right there, she ordered herself sternly. Shane isn’t your husband.
But she wanted him to be. And that realization almost made her gasp.
* * *
Marsh disconnected the call on his disposable phone and reviewed the notes he’d taken. Sunday, 3:00 p.m. Old Town University. Adams Hall.
Plenty of time, he thought. The senator had gone to ground, but he would surface for the panel and discussion on climate change. Marsh could scope out the venue tomorrow, plot his sight lines, stash his weapon and be ready come Sunday afternoon.
Once the senator had been dealt with, he still needed to take care of the damned reporter. But that could wait for a more propitious time. Unless, of course, the reporter tagged along with the senator, as she seemed to be doing a lot lately. Then he could kill two birds with one stone.
* * *
Once again Carly woke to an empty bed beside her. And once again the sheets were cold where Shane had lain, which meant his place had been empty for a while. This time, though, when she glanced at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was past eight. Which meant she’d gotten her requisite eight hours of sleep and then some.
She went in search of Shane, thinking she’d find him in the kitchen, but he wasn’t there. A pot of coffee had been made, and she gratefully poured herself a cup before continuing her search, cup in hand. She knew he wasn’t in the living room—she’d already passed through it on the way to the kitchen. But he wasn’t in the office, either. Puzzled, she went farther down the long hallway and tried the two closed doors she’d never entered. The first was the spare bedroom—empty. The second door swung open to reveal the man she sought—in a workout room that rivaled a gym.
Shane was jogging at a rapid pace on a treadmill set on a steep incline, wearing earphones, running shorts, socks and running shoes...and nothing else. His body gleamed with sweat, his abs rippling with exertion.
When he saw her, he smiled and took off his earphones but didn’t turn off the treadmill. He glanced at his watch and said over the noise of the machine, “Three more minutes.”
She nodded, then turned to peruse the rest of Niall’s workout equipment. Weight bench—that made sense. But this one looked professional grade, not the kind of thing usually found outside a gym. Not far from it was a machine she recognized as an elliptical trainer, and next to that was a recumbent stationary bicycle. There was also a leg press machine like the one in her physical therapist’s workout room, where she’d gone after she’d had arthroscopic surgery on her left knee following a skiing accident.
She took a large sip from her coffee cup, then saw the chin-up bar that stretched across the far corner of the room, and all she could think was Wow! No wonder Niall’s in great shape.
The sound of the treadmill suddenly ceased, drawing her attention back to Shane. She watched as he wiped his face and chest with a towel, then draped it across his shoulders, and thought, Shane must work out religiously, too. Because there was just no way he could look that good at forty-one unless he did.
Carly belonged to a fitness club and usually went three times a week when she was in town. When she traveled, she tried to use whatever workout equipment was available in her hotel. She had to maintain her weight for her job—TV tended to add a few pounds to the way she appeared on the screen—and she worked out for the same reason. It wasn’t fair, but women were held to a higher standard than men when it came to TV news. A well-fitting suit on a man could hide a lot of faults, but not so with women.
