Some Kind of Hero

Joel nodded, as if her response was what he’d expected. “Your fiancе probably wouldn’t approve.”

“Stuart’s not my fiancе,” Riane said again. “And he doesn’t dictate how I spend my time.”

“Then there’s no reason why you can’t show me around.”

“Except that I don’t want to. I’m a busy woman, Mr. Logan.”

“I’m sure you are,” Joel agreed easily. “I just thought you might enjoy the opportunity to show an outsider the beauty and bounty of your home state.”

“There are all kinds of tours you can take if you want to see the sights. You don’t need my help for that.”

“I was hoping for a more authentic experience.”

She smiled again. “Authentic?”

There was something in the mischievous curve of her lips that set off warning bells, something in the gleam of those dark brown eyes that hinted at a secret agenda. Maybe he should back off, reconsider his plan. But he’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

“I’d like to do whatever native West Virginians would do if they had a few days to play.”

She studied him for a long moment, considering. “What is it that you really want from me?”

Was she innately suspicious, or had his powers of persuasion been affected by his frustration with this assignment?

Determined to try harder, he smiled. “Just the pleasure of your company.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Riane. Intelligent, charming—when you want to be. Why do you find it so hard to believe that I want to spend time with you?”

“Most people who seek out my company are more interested in my political connections than sharing conversation,” she said candidly.

“Including your fiancе?”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice, when she responded, could have frosted the windows. “My relationship with Stuart is none of your business.”

“Did I hit a nerve?”

“Not at all,” she denied in the same icy tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And he was. Although he was curious about her relationship with the other man, he was sorry he’d put that guarded look in her eye.

Riane shrugged stiffly.

“I’d appreciate it if you could find some time to show me the sights.”

“I’m going to be at the camp all day tomorrow.”

“What about Friday, then?”

She hesitated.

“Please.”

Sighed. “All right. Where are you staying?”

“At the Courtland Hotel, downtown.”

“I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock. Wear something comfortable, casual.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“I’m going to show you some of West Virginia’s most impressive sights,” she promised.

But Joel didn’t wait until Friday to see her again.

He awoke in the morning determined to move on with his investigation. After all, that was his reason for being in West Virginia, and he was certain there must be other avenues to explore, other possibilities to examine.

According to the travel agent he’d consulted, the only cruise ship currently near Thailand had sailed out of Hong Kong nine days earlier and wouldn’t complete its journey until it reached Singapore in another six days. Which meant that he had six more days to wait—seven, if the senator and her husband stayed an extra night in Singapore. Surely, he could occupy himself for that amount of time.

Yet when he left the hotel late that morning, he found himself stopping at the front desk for directions to the Quinlan Camp—just in case. When he found himself following those directions, he told himself it was simple curiosity. When he pulled through the wrought iron gates, he figured she probably wasn’t even there.

There were several cars parked outside a long, low building built of hand-hewn logs. Colorful blooms spilled out of the large clay pots that flanked either side of the wooden stairs.

Joel parked his dusty Explorer beside a shiny red pickup truck and got out to stretch his legs. It was still early in the day, and the breeze was cool, the air crisp and clean and scented with the tangy perfume of cedar from the surrounding woods. Having grown up in the city, he wouldn’t consider himself a nature lover, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of this place.

He followed the flagstone path to the wide porch that spanned the length of the building. There were three doors at evenly spaced intervals, the one on the far end slightly ajar. He made his way in that direction, and his heart did a slow roll in his chest as he heard Riane’s voice coming from inside.

He paused with his hand against the heavy wood. The rational part of his brain reminded him that he shouldn’t be here. There was nothing to be gained by pursuing the attraction between them.

Okay, maybe he was hoping that she could give him some of the answers he needed. And he hadn’t completely disregarded the possibility that she was the answer he was seeking. But he wasn’t entirely comfortable using her in such a subversive manner. He was even less comfortable with the feelings that were churning inside him. Feelings that had nothing to do with his reasons for coming to West Virginia and everything to do with the woman who was Riane Quinlan.

There was a pause in the conversation, and he realized that she was on the phone. Then she laughed, and he felt that quick punch of arousal in response.

He should get back in his truck and go.

He pushed open the door.

Riane glanced up, her eyes widening. First with surprise, then pleasure—just a quick, almost imperceptible glimpse of it, immediately supplanted by annoyance. She frowned.

“Someone just came in. Can you call me back later, Adam?”

Adam? Just how many men was Riane juggling in her life? And why was he willing to stand in line to be yet one more?

She nodded and doodled on the legal pad on her desk as she finished up her call. He took a moment to scan the room—utilitarian furnishings, unadorned walls, a few potted plants. It was safer than looking at Riane, at the loose-flowing tresses that framed her delicate features, at the soft pink lips that curved slightly in response to something he couldn’t hear, at the close-fitting sweater that seemed to mold to her breasts—

He tore his gaze away.

“I’ll talk to you later, then,” she agreed.