“Nah, you better go and look busy or your captain will catch onto you letting me in here. You’ll be getting a midnight tan before you know it,” Liam joked, referring to one of a police officer’s least preferred duties—night patrol.
Derek laughed, but looked a little relieved at Liam’s pardon as he started to back out of the room. “You want anything to eat? We’ve got some leftover doughnuts from the morning briefing.”
“No need,” Liam said with a grin. The last thing he wanted to do at that moment was eat, as nervous as he felt about watching the tape. After Derek had gone, he sat down at the conference table and clicked the play button on the VCR.
He fast-forwarded through several hours of surveillance tape until he finally saw the familiar head and shoulders appear at the bottom of the screen. His heart leaping into his throat, he rewound and hit Play again.
He’d forgotten the power of his father’s presence. The camera was placed at an angle that showed Derry Kavanaugh’s back as he sat at the bar with two men and one other woman. Liam knew that the Silver Dunes Country Club was typically crowded from Thursdays through Sundays, but this had clearly been a slow Tuesday. With no weekend sports to entertain the crowd, the television mounted behind the gleaming walnut wood bar was tuned to the news.
Derry sat a good distance away from the other people, his shoulders hunched slightly. Jack Andreason, the bartender, smiled jovially as he greeted Derry. Liam suspected Jack had served his dad many times in the past and that he was used to bantering with Derry about sports or politics. It didn’t seem to take Jack long to catch onto Derry’s mood, however. Although Liam couldn’t see his father’s face, he saw how Jack’s smile sagged after two seconds of interacting with his father. He brought Derry his drink and walked away to clean some glasses. Liam guessed from the dark color of his father’s drink that he was drinking whiskey neat.
It felt as if he’d been plugged into a low-grade electrical outlet when Liam noticed his father’s wedding ring on his right hand. His father jiggled the gold circlet with his thumb in a nervous, edgy gesture before he reached for his glass of disappearing whiskey.
Liam watched the entire period Derry was there—one hour, twenty-seven minutes and thirteen seconds of spying on the last moments of his father’s life. The longer Derry sat there, the more a pressure intensified in Liam’s chest. It was ludicrous, and he knew it, but he wished like hell he could reach through the television screen and somehow force his father not to leave that bar.
The man he watched was obviously miserable, but things would have looked better in the morning. Things were always better, come morning.
But his dad never saw another dawn.
The moment came, of course, just as Liam knew it would. Derry stood and threw some cash on the bar. Liam searched hungrily for a glimpse of his face, but he only caught Derry’s bold profile before he walked out of the frame and disappeared.
Liam sat for a full five minutes, eyes closed, his hand covering his lower face, unmoving.
Then he rewound the tape and watched the entire sequence again…and again.
She felt ridiculous for taking so much time with her appearance, but her anxiety over the matter couldn’t overpower a desire to look as good as possible. She glanced at the clock she kept on her bathroom counter.
It’s not a date, for goodness’ sake, she mentally chastised herself as she fastened her earring. He’d never said it was. They were just going to discuss what he’d observed on the surveillance tape.
The only problem was, Liam had made a point of saying their partnership in uncovering the truths from their past was not a business venture, either.
He’d told her point-blank he was attracted to her.
She really shouldn’t have allowed him to burst into her office and dictate terms the way he had. She’d told herself repeatedly over the past twenty-four hours that the only reason she hadn’t called him and told him not to come tonight was that part of her believed he was right. It was ridiculous to say this venture was anything but—
“Personal,” Natalie whispered to herself as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Something fluttered in her stomach hearing that word.
But just how personal did Liam Kavanaugh mean? That was the question that kept haunting her.
She hadn’t been sure what to wear. What if she looked too dressy and Liam showed up in shorts and a T-shirt? She’d compromised with a pair of jeans, some high-heeled leather sandals and a jade-green knit halter top.
She picked up a comb and stroked her hair. Her extra efforts had paid off. The dark chestnut strands tumbled in loose curls all the way to her waist. She’d spent an extra five minutes moisturizing her skin. Her bare shoulders gleamed in the bathroom light.
She hesitated when she picked up her glasses, tempted to leave them behind, then almost dropped them in the sink when she heard the doorbell.
“Hi,” she said when she opened the front door, her voice cracking from nerves.
“Hi.”
He’d dressed for dinner. Not formally by any means— Natalie just couldn’t picture a guy like Liam putting on a suit for dinner—but he’d made an effort with his appearance, nonetheless. Not that he needed to. The result left her speechless.
“Your hair…it’s down,” he said. The tinge of wonder and warmth in his voice only added to her tongue-tied state.
“You’ve seen it down before.”
“Not in the light,” he corrected.
“Please, come in,” she muttered, unsure how to respond.