Heart of the Night (19 page)

“Sad to feel that way,” Savannah mused.

“Realistic.”

“But sad. Don't you ever dream that you'll love a man that way? Or that a man will love you that way?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“Never. Do you?”

Savannah hesitated before saying tentatively, “I have.”

“Because you're a romantic. You dream through rose-colored glasses.”

“Isn't a dream, by definition, something rosy?”

“Not necessarily. A dream can be practical. It doesn't have to be so overblown as to be unattainable. That's your problem, Savvy. You shoot too high.”

“There's nothing unrealistic about hoping for love.”

“Not when it's a realistic kind of love.”

“How would you define a ‘realistic' kind of love?”

“One where two people take pleasure from a relationship. That pleasure can be financial or social. It doesn't always have to be interpersonal, and it
certainly
isn't the kind of all-powerful thing you have in mind. Your expectations for love are as high as your expectations for everything else in your life. But you're only setting yourself up for a fall. Don't you see that?”

Savannah didn't want to. “The way I look at it,” she said, “if my expectations are high, I stand more of a chance of getting what I want than if I'd aimed lower to start with.”

She grew quiet when Sam wandered into the room. She smiled at him when he moved on into the library. The French door had been fixed. Propping a forearm high against its frame, he looked out over the patio.

Susan resumed the conversation in a voice that was low and private but carried conviction. “The thing that matters most in a relationship is respect. Respect comes from power, and power comes from money. Statistics show that financial pressures are behind most divorces.”

“What do statistics know? If the marriage is strong, the couple can handle the financial pressures.”

“But money matters.” Her eyes strayed to Sam's lanky frame. “It's a sign of power. When a man has money, he has a name for himself. People seek him out. They listen to him. He has clout. I respect a man who can make things happen.” Her mouth slanted into a catlike grin. “I love him if he can make them happen for me.”

“Did Dirk do that?”

The grin vanished. “No.” Her eyes stayed on Sam.

“But you loved him.”

“I thought I did.” She paused. “Dirk was great in bed. He made things happen for me there, all right.”

“But not elsewhere? I don't understand, Suse. You had a great house, a Jaguar, clothes, and jewelry, and—”

“I had to fight for everything. Dirk was one of the tightest men I've ever met. Not a romantic bone in his body.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Now, if sex was all I wanted, I'd go after Sam. He has a kind of raw, male appeal, don't you think?”

Savannah knew other women felt it, though she'd never personally been drawn. “He doesn't have much money,” she whispered back as a reminder to Susan, to whom money meant so much.

“Maybe not,” Susan breathed, “but, Lord, he fills his jeans well.”

Savannah debated that, finally conceding, “He has a nice butt, I suppose.”

“Wait till he turns around and shows off the front.”

“You sound as though he's purposely flaunting something.”

“I've been wondering about that.”

“Well, don't. Sam Craig isn't an exhibitionist. It's not his fault you're fixated on his fly.”

Susan shrugged.

Savannah grunted. “This conversation is totally inappropriate.”

“Not really. Let me tell you, there have been times in the past two days that I've wanted nothing more than for that man to throw me over his shoulder, take me up to bed, and make me forget everything that's happening here.” She pursed her lips, then sent Savannah a sidelong glance. “Are you shocked?”

Savannah wasn't shocked for one very good reason. In essence, there wasn't much difference between Susan's thoughts about Sam and hers about Jared. She had made love to Jared in her mind countless times when she had been alone at night with only his voice for company, or when she'd needed an escape from the worries of her life.

Shocked? If Susan thought Sam well endowed, she should see Jared.

“You are shocked,” Susan said. “You're blushing.”

“I'm not shocked.” She took a breath, then blurted out in a whisper, “Would you do it?”

“Do what?” Susan whispered back.

“Go to bed with him?”

“If he asked me nicely.”

“Come on, Suse—”

“I don't know, Savannah. How can I possibly answer that? I'll be going home later, so if the opportunity was ever really here, it's gone. There will be absolutely no cause for me to see him again.”

“Unless he calls.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he likes you.”

“He hates me.”

“What if he did call—would you see him?”

“Probably not,” Susan said, but she knew it was a lie. Sam Craig got to her. He annoyed her, frustrated her, excited her more than any man had in years. If he called her, she'd probably give him a hard time, but she'd probably see him, if only to find out whether the bulge in his jeans lived up to its promise. Then she'd dump him. He was, after all, just as unsuitable for her as she was for him.

*   *   *

“Hi, Savannah.” Jared's deep voice sizzled over the line.

A breathless Savannah returned the greeting. “Hi there.”

“You sound like you just got in.”

She struggled to hold the phone, remove her coat, catch her breath, and talk at the same time. “I did. I was just coming down the hall when Janie signaled your call.”

“Want me to call back?”

“No, no. Give me a second.” Setting the phone on the desk, she hurried out of her coat and tossed it aside, unclipped her earring, put a hand to her chest, closed her eyes, and took a deep, measured breath. Then she picked up the phone again. “That's better,” she said, knowing full well that the racing of her heart had nothing to do with the dash she'd made down the hall.

“How did it go?”

“Okay. He calmed down.”

“Have you been there all this time?” It was nearly four in the afternoon. He had dropped her off before noon.

“No. I had a meeting in Pawtucket. But I stayed at Will's for a couple of hours. I wanted to spend a little time with Susan, too. This has taken something out of her.”

“Were you able to help her?”

“I don't know. I hope so.”

“Did she help you?”

Savannah didn't answer at first. Then, a slow, wry smile formed on her lips. “Was I looking that bad?”

“Not bad. Never bad. You just looked like you could use someone to talk to, and who better than a twin.”

“A sister,” she corrected. “We're very different.”

“Okay, a sister. Did she help?”

Again Savannah paused. No, Susan had not helped, at least, not when it came to Jared. Susan's mind was on all-out lovemaking, while Savannah was still debating a kiss.

A kiss was a milestone. It was a turning point. If Jared kissed her, their relationship would take a new path. If he kissed her, a barrier would be breached. All kinds of things were possible then, and that made her nervous, because she had expectations. She expected that she and Jared would be dynamite together in bed. Jared would be a spectacular lover; she'd be one in return. But what if he wasn't? What if
she
wasn't? One part of her, the cowardly part, thought it better never to try, than to try it and fail. Then she could still have her dreams.

She sighed. “No, Susan wasn't much help, not this time.” She cleared her throat. “Did you find anything in those records?”

Yielding to her change of subject only because he acknowledged the pressing issue behind her question, Jared said, “I learned that some crazy has a thing about red licorice. For the past three months he's been bugging my receptionists about whether they like it. We're talking one or two calls per receptionist, per week, not enough to warrant an official complaint, just enough to be annoying as hell. But that's all, Savannah. I've pored through these papers three times, and there isn't anything that could even remotely be suggestive of a kidnapping or the kind of ransom note you have. Maybe you should go over them yourself. Something may strike you that didn't—”

“No. There's nothing.” She sighed again, this time more wearily. “You were looking. If there'd been anything, you'd have seen it.” Instinctively, she trusted him. “Besides, the kidnappers have been so careful in every other aspect of this crime, I don't know why I thought they'd leave tracks with you. It wouldn't fit with the way they've worked.”

“It was worth a look.”

She wasn't sure about that, but then from the first she'd had doubts about her reasons for seeking Jared out.

“Anyway, we're so near the exchange that it probably doesn't matter. Once Megan's back, we'll call in the FBI.” She went suddenly quiet, then said in a lower voice, “I wish I could call them in now. I keep thinking and rethinking what I've done on this case, and it never seems to be enough. What do I know about kidnappings?”

“What does anyone know about them?”

“The FBI knows lots.”

“Do you honestly think they'd have done more than you have? Think about it, Savannah. Even if you'd brought them in, given the threat in that ransom note, they'd have been hamstrung just like you. There aren't any miracle answers to a kidnapping. The first order of business is to get the hostage back, and that's what you've been working to do.”

Again, Savannah was quiet, this time for a longer stretch.

“Savannah?”

“I'm here,” she said in a small voice.

“What is it?”

Still she was silent.

“Savannah?”

She felt the words bubbling up. They were out before she could stop them. “I'm frightened, Jared. What if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing's going to go wrong. Does your friend have the money?”

“He will. But I'm worried. I've been in charge of this case, and I've done my best, still things could blow up in my face.”

“What things?”

“I don't know—Will could go bonkers halfway to the drop site, the kidnapper could decide the money isn't right—something bizarre that would make mockery of all the care we've taken. And more than anyone, I feel responsible.”

“You've done everything you could.”

“It may not be enough.”

“It's as much as anyone else could have done. The kidnappers wouldn't allow more.”

She twisted the phone cord back and forth. “Maybe I shouldn't have listened to them.”

“You had to listen to Megan's husband. It's his wife, his money.”

“But he came to us for help.”

“Us. You and your boss. What's
he
done through all this?”

She paused, then admitted, “Not much.”

“So? He put the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, and you've done your best. If he didn't feel that was enough, he could have stepped in at any time.”

“I suppose.” Her thoughts took a slight turn. “I didn't tell you about Paul.”

“You didn't have to. One attorney general is like another. They're political creatures. Your boss knows that when a case of this kind hits the light, the media will scrutinize every step that was taken. What you do—or don't do—reflects on your boss. He's not going to let you jeopardize his career.” He took a quick breath. “Am I right?”

She was quiet for a minute before murmuring, “You're right.”

“He wouldn't do things any differently from what you've done.”

“I suppose not.”

“Whatever happens now is out of your hands. But you've tried your best. You have, Savannah. You have to keep telling yourself that.”

She sighed. “I know.”

For a minute, there was total silence on the line. Jared broke it by saying, “Are you okay?”

“Mmm. I'm okay.” She actually felt a little better for having aired her concerns.

“Can I come over?”

“No. You're not supposed to know about this. You're not supposed to know about any of this, and here I am, blabbering about every little worry. Don't you get sick of it?”

“Sick of what?”

“Women pouring their hearts out to you.”

Jared frowned. “They don't do that.”

“They must. There's something about you that invites it.”

“If there is, they don't see it. I lead a very private life, Savannah. I go my own way, do my own thing.”

“But half of Rhode Island is in love with you.”

“Half of Rhode Island may be in love with my voice,” he said firmly, “but that's the extent of it. Most of Rhode Island doesn't know who I am or what I look like, and that's just the way I want it.”

Savannah was startled by his vehemence. “I just assumed—”

“You assumed I had a steady string of women waltzing in and out of here, each one pouring out her heart and soul? Not quite. Even if I had the time, I wouldn't be interested. I work by night and sleep by day. I don't date a hell of a lot, because no one has interested me a hell of a lot.” His voice went low. “Until now.”

Savannah was without a comeback. Men as gorgeous as Jared didn't go through life alone. “I don't understand,” she murmured. “There are dozens and dozens of women who'd be on your doorstep in a minute.”

“I don't want women cluttering my doorstep. I'm not desperate. I don't need a woman to survive.”

“I know that, but still I'd have thought—”

“That I'd be unable to resist what was offered? I'm thirty-nine years old, Savannah, not some rutting teenager. I like to think I've become a little discriminating with age.”