Hot & Bothered by Susan Andersen

out of the park, had to go someplace where other people hung out, even if he didn’t talk to anyone. He needed noise to drown out the voices in his head. Exiting onto Colfax Avenue, he headed for the 16th Street Mall.
    Lost in misery, he failed to pay attention to the slight figure that detached itself from the shadow of the Greek amphitheater and followed him.
    Â 
    V ICTORIA PAUSED IN THE doorway of Ford’s second office the next afternoon and watched John as he sat with the telephone receiver clasped between his ear and a hunched-up shoulder, scribbling furiously on a legal pad that sat at an angle on the desk in front of him. She didn’t understand why her father had felt the need for two offices, but the south wing that housed this one had been added while she was abroad, so perhaps he’d had plans to turn his old office into something else. That wasn’t really important, anyway. She only knew she’d chosen this room for Rocket’s use because it was farther away from the heart of the house than Father’s original study.
    Which hardly explained why she was standing there staring at John’s muscular shoulders and the bunch and release of the sinews in his forearm as he wrote with the twisted, upside-down awkwardness of a leftie. You’d think she’d never seen silky black hair feathering a guy’s arms before. Shaking off a niggle of unease that whispered she’d never found any features on another man quite so virile as this one’s, she stepped into the room.
    And heard him murmur, “You’re the woman, Mac. You sure you won’t change your mind about running away with me?”
    Well, there’s a reality check for you. The guy was a lady-killer and she’d be wise to keep that in mind. Composing her features to reveal nothing beyond polite disinterest, she waited until he’d hung up the phone before saying, “You wanted to see me?”
    His head jerked up and she froze as something hot and dangerous flashed in his eyes. Then his face went neutral and, setting down his pen, he reached for his coffee cup. Bringing it to his lips, he took a sip, and looked at her over its rim. “I thought you might like a progress report.”
    She took an eager step toward the desk, her momentary discomfort forgotten in a wash of anticipation. “Have you found Jared, then?”
    â€œNo, not yet. But I will.”
    Swamped with disappointment, she nevertheless gave him an apologetic grimace as she pulled out the chair across from him and sank onto its edge. “I guess it was naive to jump to that conclusion in the first place. I know it’s too soon to get my hopes up.”
    â€œIt’s too soon for me to have much to report, as well, but I’ve found that most clients appreciate being kept up to date. So if you’re interested…?”
    â€œYes. Please. My imagination has conjured up some truly horrendous scenarios, so to have something— anything —else to think about would be helpful.”
    â€œI talked to Jared’s friends Dan Coulter and Dave Hemsley. Unfortunately he hasn’t contacted them.”
    Her disappointment deepened. “Could they be lying? Perhaps they think they’re protecting him, or that telling you where he is would break that unwritten adolescent code not to rat out your fellow teen.”
    â€œIt’s possible, Tori, but I’ve interviewed a lot of teenagers over the years, and it’s taught me to pay attentionto their body language and the nuance in their conversations. Kids are my specialty and these two struck me as a couple of straight shooters whose biggest secret was having attended a rave and a few beer blasts.”
    She wanted to be stoic. She meant to be stoic. But she couldn’t prevent the low moan that slipped past her compressed lips.
    â€œHeeey,” he crooned, leaning forward. “This is not the end of the world. It eliminates the easiest