Carly did as he asked, pouring the last of the bottle of Castello di Monsanto Chianti Classico Riserva into her own wineglass, because Shane’s had hardly been touched. He obviously wasn’t drinking much because of the medication he was taking—even though he wasn’t driving anymore tonight—and that abstention impressed her. Just like his abstention from sex.
Carly admired self-control in a man, because in her experience it wasn’t all that common. Especially when it came to sex. She didn’t believe all men were animals, but she’d seen enough of what they could do to women when war loosened the social bounds of acceptable behavior to not take her safety for granted. Which was why she carried her .22 with her most of the time now, either in her purse or—when her purse was too small, such as the night of the reception at the Zakharian embassy—strapped to her thigh.
She rinsed the empty wine bottle at the kitchen sink—Shane silently made room for her when she approached—then placed it in the recycle bin, thinking abstractedly, Niall has good taste in wine. She’d perused his wine rack before picking the Chianti earlier and had been impressed. Not by how expensive the wine was—she didn’t think any bottle there cost more than twenty dollars—but by the array of lesser-known but highly regarded vintages from all over the world. And she wondered now if Shane was a connoisseur as his brother was, admitting to herself, There’s so much you don’t know about Shane.
But she knew the important things. She knew he was a gentleman...and a protector. She knew he had a strict moral code—probably higher than your own, if truth be told, she acknowledged. She knew he cared deeply for his family—not just by the things he said, but by the way he said them.
And let’s not forget the way he treats a woman in bed, she reminded herself. That told her a hell of a lot about him, the way he put her needs above his own. The way he wasn’t satisfied until she was satisfied.
Carly couldn’t help the tiny smile that played over her lips as she remembered everything Shane had done to her. Things that—if she had her way—he’d be doing again, soon. Very soon.
* * *
They settled side by side on one of the couches in the living room, sipping from their wineglasses, and Carly asked, “So you really think it’s them? The New World Militia?”
He shrugged. “No idea. But they’re the best answer I can come up with. Especially since I’m cosponsoring that domestic terrorism legislation again this session. Some sections of that bill would directly impact the New World Militia.”
She thought about this for a minute. “I think you need to tell the FBI and the ATF.”
“I think you’re right. But not just them.” She cocked her head to one side and gave him a questioning look, and he said, “Did I happen to mention my brother-in-law, Cody Walker, is the head of the Denver branch of the agency?”
“No, you hadn’t mentioned it,” she said drily. “But I knew.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Ahh, I see. You researched me.”
“I’m a reporter,” she exclaimed in a huff. “It was necessary to know everything I could about you for my story.”
He placed his wineglass on the coffee table in front of him, then took hers and placed it beside his. “I’m not criticizing,” he said mildly. “Just acknowledging how thorough you are.”
“That was before I knew you,” she clarified. “Before I...before we...”
“Became involved.”
Her breath whooshed out. “Yes. I would never do that to you now. Not now. Please believe me.”
He cupped her cheek and brushed his lips against hers. “I believe you.” His conscience nudged at him, and he confessed, “I did the same to you. And I can’t even use the excuse that I was researching a story.”
Her eyes widened. “You checked me out? When?”
“The day I met you.” She seemed blown away by his admission, so he added softly, “I was drawn to you, Carly. I had to know everything I could about you. Especially...”
“Especially what?”
“If you were married. Involved. Batting for the other team. Or otherwise unavailable.”