"She will be when they get married."
Colin shook his head. "No way. Zoe's not stupid--she won't go through with marrying him. He's not nearly good enough for her."
A strange gleam came into Tiffany's eyes, a gleam that reminded him of her brother, who was currently sitting on death row. "Why are you so interested in the woman next door?" she asked. "What's gotten into you all of a sudden? You're making me regret taking Sam."
He wanted to use his fists to vent the burst of irritation that flashed through him at this small act of defiance. Already imagining the satisfaction of feeling his knuckles crush her face, he curled his fingers into his palm--but at that moment a familiar face appeared on the television behind her, making him freeze. "Turn that up!"
Motivated by the look that had, no doubt, come over him before he'd almost hit her and the sharpness of his voice, she scrambled to obey. Then she stepped aside so he could see the anchorman give a thirty-second preview of the news.
"...A boy, from Antelope, found naked and badly beaten, tells a harrowing tale. His story? He claims to have been lured into a car by a man, who tortured him for weeks. More at eleven."
Zoe stood next to Jonathan at the front desk of a moderately priced hotel on Hotel Circle in San Diego. She hated the thought of renting a room for the night, but after her collapse, Jonathan wouldn't let her head home on her own, and they'd gotten into such terrible traffic it was too late to go and see Franky's mother. Zoe figured there wasn't much point in rushing back, anyway. Detective Thomas had called to give her an update and assured her that he and several other officers were searching, but hadn't found anything.
"Would you like a queen-size bed or a king-size bed for each room?"
The hotel clerk smiled graciously.
Jonathan turned to Zoe.
"I'm getting my own room?" she asked.
He seemed surprised. "Isn't that what you want?"
Definitely not. She couldn't be alone. The worry and fear she'd been holding at bay would eat her alive. "No."
She halfway expected him to suggest the obvious--that it might not look good should Anton hear of it. But she didn't plan on crossing any lines, so she didn't see why Anton would have to know. She just had to get through another night, and being with Jonathan was easier than facing an interminable number of hours alone.
Fortunately, he didn't question her decision. He didn't even comment on it. He simply took charge as if it was perfectly normal to share a room.
And she knew he hadn't misunderstood her motivation when he asked for two beds in one room.
The hotel clerk frowned as he consulted the computer. "It's our busy season. I doubt we have a double," he said, but his eyes continued to scan the screen. Half a minute later, his smile was back. "You're in luck. We've had a cancellation."
Zoe had insisted on coming in rather than waiting in the car so she could pay the bill. She knew Skye's charity had more people to help than just her, that it had to be difficult for The Last Stand to stay afloat. She didn't want to be a drain on its assets. Not when she was so grateful for what Skye was already providing. But Jonathan pushed the credit card she placed on the counter out of the clerk's reach. "I've got it."
"Jon, I can't keep..."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "What?"
"Taking."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes me feel guilty. Like a--a slouch or--"
"I'd have to rent a room if you weren't here," he interrupted. "Give yourself a break for a change." The smile that curved his lips somehow evoked a return smile, probably the first one that had come naturally to her since Samantha's disappearance.
"You are so--" She caught herself. She'd been about to say,
"Handsome." It had nearly rolled right off her tongue, probably because it would've been an honest statement. She'd thought it several times during the day, but she knew better than to say it, especially now. It was the exhaustion.
She was too tired to be careful.
He studied her openly, rubbing the beard growth on his chin. "What?"
Zoe felt herself flush. "Nice." She averted her eyes, but she suspected they'd already said what she hadn't.
He didn't follow up with a comment. He signed the slip the clerk handed him and took a map of the complex.
"Stay here. I'll grab the luggage," he said and left.
When he came walking through the lobby doors with the bags, Zoe felt a renewed sense of chagrin at the admiration that must've been apparent on her face. What had she been thinking? She was attracted to this man!
And now she was pretty sure he knew it.
"How'd it go today?" Skye asked.
"Fine." Jonathan could hear the shower running and tried not to think about Zoe standing naked beneath the spray. Considering the situation, he was an ass**le to even imagine it, but hormones were hormones, and he couldn't seem to curb the erotic images flowing through his brain.
That moment in the lobby when she'd started to say something and then stopped had created a sexual undercurrent that was hard to ignore.
Although they'd probably been aware of each other all along, that awareness had definitely been very much in the background. Since arriving at the hotel, however, he'd felt a marked change.
"Fine?" Skye echoed, obviously surprised that he didn't launch into an accounting of the day's events. "Does Ely have Samantha or not?"
"No, Ely's blissfully unaware of regular life. He's been in rehab for the past month."
"Blissfully? I doubt it. But at least he's not in jail. Rehab's a good alternative."
"Except I was hoping he had Sam. Our other options aren't nearly as attractive."
"He can't tell you anything? He hasn't heard from her?"
"According to the woman who's been getting his mail, he hasn't received a letter from Sam in weeks."
"So you didn't meet with him?"
He adjusted the time on the room's clock radio, which was wrong by more than four hours. "No. Zoe was afraid he'd drop out and go on a bender."
"Well, she is the one who knows him."
"I'm guessing her decision has more to do with her than him. She's too fragile to deal with the issues between her and her father in addition to the current crisis."
"You have to start looking at Sam's biological father, Jon," Skye said.
"I know." He put the clock back. "I'm on it."
"Have you found him?"
Resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at the gold-colored carpet.