No Stranger to Scandal Read online

  “Ms. Royall,” he said. His voice was pleasant, probably for his son’s benefit, but his face told a different story—eyebrows slashed down, jaw tight. He was annoyed at running into her. Just because he didn’t want to mix work and family? Or was there something more...?

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?” she said, leaning down to give Rosie a scratch behind the ears. “Little birds in the trees, the flowers are out, the weather’s warm—everything is just so perfect. Rosebud and I love April.”

  A speculative gleam appeared in Hayden’s eye. He’d know everything there was to know about Graham from his shoe size to what he liked for breakfast, so knowing Rosie belonged to one of the targets of his investigation was guaranteed. And he’d just realized he could use Rosie to engage Lucy in conversation about Graham, and hope the casual setting caused her to slip up. Precisely what she was doing to him.

  Although that didn’t explain why he’d been annoyed when he first saw her—he was renowned for his investigative acumen, so that should have been the first thing that occurred to him. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted his time with his son to be interrupted. Entirely possible, but it had felt like more than that....

  Perhaps he disliked her personally and was annoyed at running into her away from work? Her belly hollowed out before she gave herself a mental shake. Just because her hormones went haywire when she saw him didn’t mean the chemistry was mutual. Besides, the man had lost his wife only a few months ago.

  She should be pleased that at least one of them wouldn’t be carried away by flights of fancy. Getting involved with the man she was investigating, and worse, who was investigating ANS for Congress, would be unthinkable.

  “Goggie!” Josh squealed again, apparently impatient to be getting to the dog-patting action.

  Hayden looked from Rosie to her. “Is it okay for Josh to pet her?”

  “Sure,” she said, laying on her Southern accent thick and smiling innocently. “She’s as gentle as a lamb.”

  Hayden crouched down beside her and supported Josh as he found his feet and reached out to touch Rosie’s ear.

  “Her name’s Rosebud,” Lucy said to the toddler.

  As they watched Josh and Rosie interact, Hayden asked, “How long have you had her?”

  “She’s Graham’s dog,” she replied, as if she hadn’t worked out that he’d know that. “He’s had her for six years. Since she was a puppy.”

  Hayden leaned forward and joined Josh in petting her. “Nice dog.”

  His shoulder was only a couple of inches from hers—if she moved a little she’d bump against him. A mischievous impulse urged her to lean into him, knowing he’d be solid and warm, and it took all her willpower to resist. The scent of clean, masculine skin surrounded her, made everything else fade into the background, made a hum resound through her bloodstream.

  Rosie rolled over onto her back, producing her tummy for rubs with no shame at her brazen request for attention. Lucy blinked down at the dog, fully aware she walked a knife’s edge of being just as obvious. She squared her shoulders. Time to move away from temptation and remember she was a journalist working on a story.

  * * *

  Hayden rubbed the dog, barely able to concentrate on anything but Lucy at his side. Within touching distance. If he wanted to, he could reach out a hand and trail it down her arm. Or wrap his fingers under her curtain of silky blond hair and discover if the skin on her neck was as soft as it appeared. His heart thudded like a bass drum. The jolt of attraction when he’d first seen her in the park had thrown him off balance and part of him was still scrambling to find his equilibrium.

  Lucy stood, breaking the spell. “I was just about to give Rosebud a drink.” She took out a bottle of water and a rolled-up waterproof canvas bowl from her bag. “Would Josh like to help?”

  Hayden looked down at his son and, for the briefest of moments, was at a loss, uncertain what Josh would or wouldn’t like. His gut twisted tight. He hated not instinctively knowing these things. Then he gave himself a mental shake. Of course Josh would like to help—it was a dog and water, both of which spelled fun.

  “He’d love to,” he finally said.

  Lucy gave Josh the bottle of water and explained how to fill the canvas bowl in terms a one-year-old could understand. Josh sloshed more water on the ground and on Lucy than in the bowl, but no one seemed to mind, and soon the dog was enthusiastically drinking and Josh was trying to catch her wagging, curly tail. Hayden’s heart expanded to see his son smiling and so obviously filled with joy.

  Lucy screwed the top back on the water and slid it into the same large red bag she’d had yesterday at the interview. Seemed she had all contingencies covered inside that bag—yesterday a muffin, notebook and pen; today a water bottle and a dog bowl. He wouldn’t be surprised if she pulled out a picnic blanket and folding chairs next.

  He sat back on his haunches. “I read somewhere that Graham had a dog that he takes to work each day,” he said conversationally.

  “This is her.” She didn’t look up, but gave Rosebud an extra rub on the neck.

  “So you spend a bit of time in Graham’s office to see Rosebud?”

  She smiled, obviously aware of where his questions were leading. The dog finished her drink and Josh, looking for the next interesting adventure, held his arms out to Lucy. Without hesitation, she bundled him in.

  “How’s it going, Josh?” she said, charming his son, then looked at Hayden over his son’s head and said, “I see Graham and Rosie a few times a week.”

  Instead of following the line of questioning he’d planned in his head, Hayden couldn’t draw his eyes from the easy way Lucy interacted with his little boy. Josh had only just met her, but was already happy in her arms. And Lucy was relaxed, as if she knew just what to do with a toddler. Lord above, Hayden wished he knew what to do with one. Sure, he had the basics covered, like sleeping, bathing and feeding, but he was still getting used to being the primary caregiver to a child, and most of the time he felt he was swimming out of his depth.

  Why did it seem so natural for her? From his research, he knew she had no siblings, no young cousins around, yet she seemed supremely confident where he often felt awkward and unsure. Maybe because he wanted to be a good father so damn much and Lucy had nothing riding on it at all.

  He blew out a slow breath and stood—he was losing his focus with Lucy Royall again. This time he’d almost recovered from the force of her allure and managed to steer the conversation toward Graham Boyle, but now he’d become distracted again by her natural way with his son. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and refocused on his new plan—build rapport and see what else he could discover in the casual setting.

  “We’re walking this way, how about you?” he said, sinking a hand into his pocket. “Josh and I have just come out for our lunch break.”

  Lucy beamed over at him. “We’d love to join you for a walk, wouldn’t we, Rosie?”

  Hayden hoisted Josh up onto his shoulder, but the boy leaned toward Lucy with his arms out. Hayden arched an eyebrow. Josh didn’t normally go to new people this easily—why did he have to overcome his trust issues with someone Hayden was investigating?

  Lucy laughed and held up Rosebud’s lead. “How about we swap?”

  Still, he didn’t move. Building rapport while taking a walk was one thing, but letting her carry his son, crossing personal lines, was dangerous, and something he’d never done before.

  “Daddy,” Josh said, pointing to Lucy. “Up.”

  And right there was his Achilles’ heel. Josh wanted Lucy, and Hayden wanted Josh to be happy. Complex ethical issues boiled down to pure simplicity.

  “Sure,” he said. He took the dog’s lead and handed over his son, trying to minimize touching Lucy in both tasks since he was in enough trouble as it was. “I’ll take that bag while you have Josh.”

  “It’s fine.” She tickled Josh’s side and was rewarded with giggles. “I’m used to having it over my shoulder.”

  He nodded and t
hey started along the paved path that wound alongside the sparkling river, Hayden busy trying not to physically smack himself over the head. He’d been brought in by a congressional committee to investigate ANS, and Graham Boyle in particular. And now here he was, in a D.C. park, talking a stroll with the man’s stepdaughter, allowing her to cuddle his son, offering to carry her bag and walking the wretched man’s dog.

  Not to mention that his pulse was pounding too hard for a casual walk, which had less to do with the exercise than with the woman whose elbow was mere inches from his own. So close he could practically feel all her vibrant energy radiating out and filling the air around her.

  He cleared his throat. “Ms. Royall—”

  “Lucy.” With his son’s fist wrapped around her fingers, she glanced up at him. “We’re walking in a park on a lunch break. I think you can call me Lucy.”

  “Lucy, then.” The name felt unusual as his mouth moved around the word. He’d only said it aloud together with her surname before, but alone it seemed special, prettier. More intimate.

  “Yes?”

  He looked down at her, frowning. “Yes, what?”

  “You were about to say something when I told you to call me Lucy.”

  Good point. But he had no idea what it had been. He thrust the fingers of his free hand into his hair. He’d called their interview to a halt because he was getting distracted. Seemed the extra twenty-four hours to regroup hadn’t helped any.

  He searched his brain for a way to informally find a path to the information he wanted. “Did you always want to be a journalist?”

  They waited while Rosebud sniffed the base of a tree, and Lucy shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe not always. But since I interned with Graham when I was sixteen.”

  “What did you want to be before that?”

  “My father’s family is in department stores,” she said casually. “When he died I inherited his stock. I always thought I’d do a business degree and work there.”

  Her family was “in department stores”? He almost laughed. In his preliminary research he’d found that Lucy was one of the Royall Department Stores Royalls. A family of old money that stood alongside the Rockefellers, Vanderbilts and Gettys in stature. The woman had pedigree coming out her ears.

  Genuine curiosity nibbled. “Have you stayed in touch with that side of your family?”

  “Occasionally I see Aunt Judith and her family,” she said softly, with just a tinge of regret. “She has a gorgeous lodge in Fields, Montana, where we sometimes gather for birthdays and Christmases.”

  “Fields is a nice place,” he said. Great ski fields and snowboarding, although now just as famous for being the birthplace of President Morrow as its natural charms.

  “We’ve had some good family times there. Plus, a couple of times a year I go to a board meeting, and occasionally talk to them about charity events.”

  As she tapped a finger on his son’s nose, Hayden watched her and tried to get it all to make sense. Her choices didn’t quite add up with the image he had of a pampered princess.

  “Wouldn’t it have been an easier path to work in the Royall family business? You already own significant stock there. You wouldn’t have had to start out at the bottom like you did at ANS.” That was what his wife, Brooke, had done—worked in her family’s banking empire. But in effect, it had only been role-playing. She’d had a big corner office and taken a lot of long lunches.

  Lucy arched a challenging eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d want to take the easier path?”

  “Human nature.” He didn’t try to hide the cynicism in his voice. “Who wouldn’t want the easier option?”

  She was silent and the moment stretched out; the only sound was Josh’s gurgling baby talk. Then she looked up at him with eyes that seemed far too insightful. “Tell me, Hayden, did you take the easiest career option available to you?”

  “No,” he admitted. But then, he hadn’t been brought up an heiress like Lucy or Brooke. Completely different situation.

  “How long have you been a criminal investigator?” she asked.

  “A few years now.” But he wasn’t here to talk about himself. He rolled his shoulders back and changed the conversation’s direction. “What story are you working on now?”

  She moved Josh onto her other hip and adjusted his blue hat. “Are you officially asking me?”

  He could sense her reluctance, but that wasn’t unusual with journalists trying to keep their scoop under wraps. And since his investigation was about past practices, her current story was irrelevant. He shrugged. “No, just conversation.”

  “Then I’ll pass on the question.” She looked up at him and unleashed a dazzling smile. “Did you come out just to walk, or do you have lunch in that bag?”

  He held up the brown paper bag. “Lunch. I can offer you half a room-service cheese and tomato on rye.” He’d found that when dealing with hotels, the plainer the order, the less likely they were to ruin it with some embellishment meant to impress but usually falling short. He was a man of simple tastes—he’d take sandwiches on fresh bread from the deli near his office over a fancy restaurant lunch any day.

  “You can keep your sandwich,” she said. “I have mine in my bag.”

  “Tell me you don’t have a picnic blanket in that bag,” he said, one corner of his mouth turning up.

  Her forehead crinkled into a confused frown. “A picnic blanket wouldn’t fit in here.”

  “You seem to pull out all sorts of things, so a blanket wouldn’t have surprised me,” he said dryly.

  They found a patch of grass under a weeping willow a little farther back from the path. He pulled out a sealed plastic bag with a wet washcloth inside and wiped off Josh’s hands before passing him a banana.

  “That’s pretty organized,” Lucy said, watching him with those huge hazel eyes.

  His hackles went up. “For a dad, you mean?”

  “For anyone.” Her head tipped to the side, as if puzzling him out. “I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

  He nodded. Just because he was prickly about his parenting skills didn’t mean she’d taken a swipe at him. He offered a self-deprecating smile as compensation for his overreaction. “The nanny packed it all. I wouldn’t have thought of a washcloth, so you weren’t far off the mark.”

  She broke off a piece of her granola bar and popped it in her mouth. They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, watching Josh with his banana.

  Lucy leaned back, propping one hand on the grass behind her for support. “Is that where Josh is during your interviews?”

  “I hired the nanny for while we’re in D.C. She comes nine to five.” He hadn’t been sure how the arrangement would work out, but it was fine. The biggest adjustment had been not having his sister close by—he was flying solo as a parent for the first time, and he was determined to make it work.

  “What does Josh normally do during the day?” she asked as she fed a piece of granola to Rosebud.

  “When we’re in New York, a couple of days a week he goes to my sister—she has a three-year-old boy, and the cousins enjoy their time together. The other three days a week he goes to a day-care center at my office. There are five kids of staff members there, and I can see him at lunchtime.”

  She smiled over at Josh. “Sounds ideal.”

  No, ideal would have been Josh having two parents to spend time with him, love him and make him the center of their world. But even before Brooke’s death, Josh hadn’t had that. The weight of needing to make things perfect for his son crashed down on him, as it did regularly. His gut contracted and clenched. He was all Josh had and he’d do his damned best to make his childhood as close to ideal as he could.

  He looked up and saw Lucy was still watching him. This had become far too personal. What was it about Lucy Royall that made him forget everything that was important? What he needed to do was schedule another interview, and this time he’d write a complete list of questions—something he hadn’t done in years—to make sure he st
ayed on topic.

  He grabbed the remnants of his lunch and stuffed them back into the brown paper bag. “Josh is getting sleepy. I need to get him back for his nap.”

  “This was nice,” she said, picking up the washcloth and wiping the banana from Josh’s fingers. “Maybe Rosie and I could join you again sometime.”

  Join him again sometime? He coughed out an incredulous laugh. Out in the forest, this was a woman who’d poke a hungry bear until it ate her. He stood and picked Josh up. Thankfully, the little boy curled into his neck, as if supporting Hayden’s prediction that he was ready for a nap.

  “Look, Lucy,” he said, more gruffly than he intended. “I’m not sure what you think is going on here, but this investigation is serious. I’m not here to make friends.” Her eyes widened and he immediately regretted his tone. He blew out a breath, and said more softly, “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”

  Lucy stood, as well. “You’d like to be my friend, Hayden?” She arched an eyebrow, her eyes glimmering with something he couldn’t read.

  “Under different circumstances,” he emphasized, “it’s possible that we would have been friends.”

  Her chin lifted. “I know how important this is. I take Graham’s future very seriously. But just so we’re clear—” she fixed him with sultry hazel eyes, and her voice slid deeper into the accent of a Southern belle who took no prisoners “—under different circumstances, I wouldn’t want to be your friend, Hayden. I’d make one heck of a pass at you.”

  She turned and walked off, blond hair glinting in the sunshine, Rosie at her heels, leaving Hayden poleaxed.

  Three

  At four o’clock the next day, Lucy knocked on the door to Hayden’s suite, then rolled her shoulders one at a time to try and ease the bunching tension in them.

  Hayden had called her cell an hour ago and asked if she could come by to answer a few more questions, and she’d jumped at the chance to see him again in his suite, maybe find a few more clues for her story. The only other time she’d been to his hotel was before Graham had handed her the assignment of the exposé, so this time she’d pay more attention to the little things. The clues.