“I’m not playing hooky,” she said, her forehead crinkling. She stepped back, looking two parts bewildered and one part irritated at herself for participating so enthusiastically in his kiss. He hid a smile. “It’s a holiday weekend coming up, and I’m just not that busy today. I thought I’d help you look up information on DuBois Enterprises and Alerveret.”
“Great. I could use the help,” Liam said, warmed by the fact that she’d come to join him. Suddenly the day seemed bright with endless possibilities. “I’ll take you out to lunch afterward.”
He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it, smiling when he saw her mouth open in surprise at his brimming enthusiasm.
“Come on, detective,” he urged, tugging on her hand.
Operation kiss and distract, Liam thought amusedly as he led her through the parking lot. He would sneak beneath her defenses when she least expected it, then distract her before she had a chance to protest.
Before Natalie knew it, she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised that he planned on kissing her every opportunity he got.
A little over an hour and a half later, they walked down on Ontario Avenue, deep in discussion.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” Natalie said. “Neither your father or Langford, Inc., seemed to have any connection to DuBois Enterprises or Alerveret Corporation. Maybe it was just a red herring, your father’s interest in that news program.”
“It might have been,” Liam said thoughtfully as they turned down Main Street.
“You don’t really think so, though, do you?” Natalie asked, examining his profile. This morning there was a slight scruff of whiskers on his jaw. His hair was a windblown chaos of burnished waves. He looked a little intimidating—disreputable, even—so his occasional bouts of unselfconscious warmth toward her struck Natalie as all the more potent. One second she’d been admiring the image of him with his long legs straddling the sleek machine. Next he’d dismounted and kissed her.
She suspected her heart had just finally resumed its normal pace about five minutes ago, thanks to that kiss. She still hadn’t decided how she was supposed to respond to this new, playful, yet strangely determined Liam.
“I don’t know,” Liam replied, drawing Natalie out of her thoughts. “Nothing else seemed to be penetrating his misery on that night.”
“Liam, what are you doing?”
He glanced back at her, obviously caught off guard by her sharp question, his hand still outstretched to open the door of the Captain and Crew restaurant.
“I said I’d take you out to lunch,” he reminded her.
“It’s not really necessary,” Natalie said quickly. She checked her watch. “I probably should go home and change and get into work, after taking the morning off.”
Liam turned and faced her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she sensed him studying her.
“Why do you let them do it?” he asked softly.
“What do you mean?”
He gave a subtle sideways nod in the direction of two men who were walking toward the restaurant entrance. The men’s conversation broke off and they observed Liam and Natalie with interest before they disappeared into the Captain and Crew.
“People. Strangers. You let their curiosity, or their rudeness, or whatever the hell the case may be, dictate your actions,” Liam said.
For a few seconds, she just stared up at him. He’d said it so evenly that it took a moment for his meaning?
??and her embarrassment—to soak into her consciousness. Her cheeks flamed.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
“I think I do. You avoid crowded places. You don’t like to have people look at you, so you steer clear of places like Jake’s or the Captain and Crew. I wish you wouldn’t let it get to you, Natalie.”
“You have no right to judge me,” she bit out. “You’re the last person on earth who has the right to judge me.”
She spun around, intent on departure. She gasped when Liam reached out, quick as a snake at the strike, and grasped her hand, halting her.
“I’m sorry,” he said rapidly when she opened her mouth to tell him off. She paused when she saw the look of genuine regret on his face. “I really am. You’re right. It has to be something you’re comfortable with—not something I wish for.”
Tears burned her eyelids. Something I wish for. She was so confused, she couldn’t manage to get out the question scalding the back of her tongue.
Why should he care one way or another how I feel in a public place?