Rachel Bailey - No Stranger to Scandal

“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 stayed 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.

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