Page 53 of Justice Delayed

She willingly came, stopping right before their foreheads collided. Only a hair’s breadth existed between them. “Me?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” Passion dominated Brogan’s deep blue eyes, turning them darker. She should identify the other emotion swirling in their depths but couldn’t seem to care what it might be. “You’re so different from other women your age.”

His words slammed into her, pulling her back from the brink of whatever they might have fallen into as they reminded her of why she wasn’t like women her age. “Being in prison for nearly two decades will do that to a person.” She broke his hold on her, sitting back and away from him.

For a moment, Brogan didn’t move, only let his hand drop to his side. “That’s not what I meant at all.” He closed his eyes and clenched his hands into fists, as if wrestling with himself. Several minutes passed with neither of them speaking.

Melender tried to regain her own equilibrium after the near kiss. For if she hadn’t doused their emotions, she had no doubt Brogan would have touched his lips to hers. And while she ached to know the feel of his lips on hers, she had to keep her eye on the purpose for their collaboration. If she had any hope for a future, she had to solve the mystery of her past. Only then could she turn her thoughts to things like romance.

Wordlessly, Brogan put the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, the only sound being the GPS voice guiding them toward their destination.

* * *

Brogan followedthe GPS directions almost on autopilot, his body and mind still reeling from nearly kissing Melender. What had he been thinking? Even when he had been fudging sources to gain more notoriety as a reporter, he had never been tempted to cross that particular line. But a week after meeting Melender, he had trouble remembering she was a convicted felon, much less a source to a story that had the potential to catapult him back into favor in the journalism world.

When he turned right onto Rhodes Street, he scanned for a parking spot. After slipping into an open space, he cut the engine. When he’d found Jared’s address, he had not been surprised the scion of Quentin Thompson lived in the Colonial Village complex. The location offered easy access to Northern Virginia and Washington, DC, as well as a vibrant nightlife. He had no doubt Quentin had footed the bill for the condo, considering his son’s lack of work history.

“Are you ready?” Melender had her hand on the door handle.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He joined her on the sidewalk in front of a tall brick privacy wall that ringed six two-story red brick buildings. On the brick wall near the open entrance to a resident-only parking lot, a plaque proclaimed: “Colonial Village I is an historic landmark.”

Melender fell into step beside him as they headed through the parking lot to the buildings on the far side. “Do you know what makes it historic?”

“Uh, actually, I do.” Brogan cleared his throat, grateful for a safe topic to discuss. Maybe some small talk would diffuse the tension between them. It wouldn’t do to have Jared pick up on that. They needed to be on the same page to be more effective in learning something new from her cousin. “This was part of a much bigger development built in the early 1930s as the first Federal Housing Administration-insured multi-family complex in this country. The buildings were also used as housing for many federal government workers during World War II.”

Melender clapped her hands. “I’m impressed.”

He kicked a stone off the sidewalk, grateful that the warmth in her tone suggested her willingness to move beyond what nearly happened in the car. “I read about it online when researching Jared’s residence.” Brogan glanced at his companion, noting how the light played off the silvery blonde of her hair. Without thinking, he raised his hand to touch a wayward strand.

She halted, and he stopped as well. “Brogan, what’s going on?” Her eyes focused on the ground.

A denial sprang to his lips that nothing was going on, but he swallowed the lie. “I don’t know.”

The admission brought her head up and their eyes met. “Then I’m not wrong that you wanted to kiss me yesterday and just now in the car?”

The misery and hope in her eyes wrenched his stomach. The truth would complicate things, but he wouldn’t let her think she was imagining his interest. “No, I admit I thought about kissing you. You are very tempting.”

She blew out a breath, then ducked her head. “I have no experience with flirting or dating, so I’m sorry if I led you on or something.”

Her words jabbed his heart. “Hey. Look at me.” Melender slowly raised her face so he could search her eyes, now swimming with unshed tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

She nodded, but not before he caught of glimpse of the hurt she quickly masked before she headed toward the sidewalk that led away from the parking lot and into the complex. He hurried after her, catching up as she reached a junction on the path.

“Melender, wait.”

She didn’t move forward but didn’t turn to face him.

He was making a hot mess of this, maybe because he’d been out of practice for so long. He’d dated regularly when he had been climbing the journalism ladder, but since his disgrace, he’d not had more than a handful of dates. Online dating held little appeal to him, and although he and Seth occasionally hit the bar scene, he never felt comfortable in the boozy, flirtatious atmosphere. “I’m sorry. I’m out of practice myself.”

She swiveled to face him. “You are?”

He smiled sheepishly. “Believe it or not, I don’t date much. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I asked a woman to anything more than a causal coffee.”

Melender didn’t respond, only stared at him with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“The thing is, I don’t want to hurt you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I do find you very attractive, but, well…” He floundered to put into words why he felt the fierce need to protect Melender, even from himself.

“You’re not sure if I’m guilty or not.”

---