“Because I bought you breakfast so I could do the same for you. Take care of the man who’s always taking care of everyone else.”
“Who told you that?”
“You did.” She laughed, her gaze never leaving his. “I can take care of myself, but I appreciate the offer.” Standing on her toes, she pressed a quick kiss on his lips, one not nearly long enough to suit him. “Your French toast must be cold. Let me warm it in the microwave.”
She turned for the door, but he caught her hand in time. “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t want her running from her feelings. She’d already glossed over her emotions as unimportant, then changed the subject to food.
He wasn’t buying her nonchalance. She was hurting and Chase didn’t want her suffering in silence. “Even self-sufficient people need a shoulder every now and then.”
She inclined her head, acknowledging his point. “And when we have time, maybe I’ll take you up on your offer. Right now I need to talk to your mother. You said she knows Samson, so she might have some clues about where he’d go.” She glanced down at her hand, still entwined with his.
“Either you let me go or I drag you with me into the shower.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that literally,” she said, blushing at her words.
“Why not?” He lifted her hands to his lips and feathered soft kisses over her knuckles. “I can’t think of anything more soothing than a hot shower.” He let his tongue take over, tracing the soft slopes of her hand, tasting her salty skin. “Or anything more mutually satisfying.” He blew on the moist patches he’d left behind.
She let out a low moan. “You do tempt me. But you were right the first time, when you said we weren’t finished talking. I need to know you’re not going to tell anyone about Michael Carlisle.”
From her flushed face and dilated eyes, he knew ignoring the passion wasn’t easy for her.
He ought to know. Pushing aside the connection they’d found while she revealed her deepest pain was even harder to do. But her question was valid and couldn’t be avoided.
Would he tell anyone? He couldn’t print the news, not while Sloane’s or Samson’s life was at stake. He didn’t want to turn her into a walking target. But how could he keep the truth from the police?
“Chase, please,” she said in the wake of his silence, squeezing his hands tighter. “If the public found out the senator kept such a secret from me, it could destroy their trust in him and ruin not just this campaign but his career aspirations.” She pinned him with her stare, waiting for an answer.
Chase was floored. Despite the senator’s lies, Sloane supported him. “I admire your loyalty.”
“He raised me as his own child and never treated me any different than my”—she hesitated—“than my sisters and they’re his flesh and blood.” She swallowed hard. “He loves me. I’ve never not felt that love. Whatever his reasons for keeping my parentage a secret, I won’t let his life’s work be destroyed. So promise me you’ll keep quiet.”
I trusted you, Chase. He heard the words she chose not to say and he was torn. “Rick can put out an APB for Samson. It’s in his best interest to be found.”
“No. That would make things public. Give us time to find him first.”
“Us?” he asked, liking the sound of the word on her lips.
“You already said I’m not going to Harrington alone. I’ve come to consider you my partner in all this.”
“And Rick can help us,” he insisted. “That explosion might well be a warning we should heed.”
She nodded. “If it turns out the explosion was more than an accident, I’ll go with you to talk to Rick. How’s that for compromise?” She clenched her hands in front of her. “In the meantime, we search for Samson ourselves. Pretty please?” She shot him a blatant, disarming grin.
She was manipulating him and they both knew it. He couldn’t help but laugh anyway.
Besides, for now, his decision was easy. “I promise not to say or print a word. But if the accident classification changes, I’m holding you to your promise and our first stop is the police.”
In the meantime, he didn’t want the threats from her father’s associates following her here. Hell, maybe they already had—something he wouldn’t know until the fire department finished investigating and officially classified the explosion.
She grinned and saluted, obviously relieved. But she shouldn’t be too complacent, he thought. He was a journalist who’d never shied away from reporting. After they found Samson and figured out how to handle the threat, her story would make damned good headlines. If he didn’t print the news about the senator’s lies and other reporters got wind of the scandal, they’d expose all. And the result wouldn’t be pretty. At least debuting in his hands, Sloane had a chance of the story being told in a factual, nonbiased way.
But he had time before worrying. Time to get in deeper with Sloane.
Chase pulled his truck in front of his mother’s house. The old Colonial he grew up in still looked fresh and new, thanks to a coat of paint and the constant care he and his brothers supplied.
He turned, placing his hand over her seat. “Are you sure you can handle my mother?” he asked Sloane.
“I’m certain I can hold my own.” A long curl had escaped her ponytail and she tucked the strand behind her ear. “Raina seems harmless enough.”
He cocked an eyebrow but didn’t touch that comment. “I already called her this morning and discussed what you’d be talking to her about. She understands the need for secrecy.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
He heard the steely tone in Sloane’s voice, the one that never ceased to remind him she’d indeed been raised by Senator Michael Carlisle, a master at getting what he wanted, and his wife, Madeline, the strong woman alongside the man.
“I wanted to.”
“I could have explained things myself,” Sloane said.
“But you don’t want her spreading this rumor about Samson and inadvertently exposing the very story you’re trying to hide.”
Not that he was concerned about his mother being informed about Sloane’s relationship to, or search for, Samson. Nobody would go further than Raina to protect someone they cared about. Once he’d explained their reasons for needing Raina’s discretion, Chase trusted her promise to provide it. His mother only participated in town gossip out of boredom and to maintain a sense of community. She’d put Sloane and Samson’s needs first now and remain silent.