Radclyffe - Price of Honor

“Fine,” Dusty replied. Willy was easygoing and never seemed ruffled by anything out in the field. Dusty got along with all her fellow agents pretty well, but she wouldn’t exactly say she was friends with any of them. They were there to do a job, and most of them were closer to their dogs than each other. If she had to name one who was closest to a friend, she’d have to say Willy. They’d started at about the same time and often shared the same shifts. Spending hundreds of hours together naturally led to conversation, and somewhere along the line Willy had surmised Dusty’s second choice for companionship after Atlas wouldn’t be one of the guys.

“I was glad they pegged you to do it,” he said, “until I saw the reporter. Tough duty.”

“Not really. She knew a lot about the dogs.”

Willy gave her a sad look and shook his head. “Did you talk about anything besides Atlas?”

“No, not exactly. You know, she was here about the dogs.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Definitely a wasted opportunity having you do that interview.”

“I don’t know,” Dusty said, shrugging. “I guess I could cover anything I forgot at dinner tonight.”

Willy drew up short. “No. Really?”

Dusty grinned, an odd surge of satisfaction shooting through her. “Really.”

He whistled and clapped her on the shoulder. “Take it all back. You done good.”

Dusty laughed and settled back as Virtucci came in. It felt good, better than good—great—talking about Viv. Thinking about her, even when she wasn’t around. Looking forward to seeing her again. She remembered the little smile Vivian had given her right after she’d put her number into her phone. As if something had transpired between them that pleased her. She wanted to put that smile back on Viv’s face again. She wondered if she’d be able to, without Atlas to help out.

“All right, everybody, listen up,” Virtucci said.

Dusty jerked her attention back to the briefing. She didn’t think about Viv again for forty-five minutes as Virtucci outlined the itinerary, the shift assignments, and the provisions for the dogs on the train. She and Atlas were working the middle shift to start, and their assignments were split between traveling with the motorcade and securing Thunderbolt when they were stopped. Both high-threat situations. Whenever Eagle was en route, whenever the train or vehicles were stopped, they were targets, either for long-distance attack or potential explosive placement. She’d be busy. That was good, she liked being busy.

When he was finished and all the questions were answered, the briefing broke up. After seven. Maybe it was too late for Viv. Probably would be. They all needed to be up and out early for the flight to Chicago. She stepped into the hall and made sure no one was around before tapping in the number Viv had given her. One ring…

“Hello?” Viv’s voice was bright and a little breathless.

Maybe.

“Hi, this is Dusty.”

“Hi. Are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry it’s so late. I should have called sooner.”

“No problem, I’ve been working. Are you hungry?”

Dusty realized she was, although the stirring in her stomach wasn’t hunger. The tight, twisting sensation was excitement. “Sure.”

Viv laughed. “Well, that’s good then. Shall we meet somewhere?”

“I need to feed and walk Atlas. Then I’ll be ready to leave.”

“All right. What’s your favorite food?”

“I don’t think you want to know that.”

“Please don’t say McDonald’s.”

“Like I said…”

Viv groaned. “Seriously?”

“Why don’t you pick. I’ll eat anything.”

“Sushi?”

“Even that.”

Viv laughed again and warmth spread through Dusty’s chest.

“You mean it?” Viv asked.

“Sure. Yeah. I can do it.”

Viv named a restaurant not that far away.

“Thirty minutes?” Dusty asked.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Viv’s voice had gotten low and husky, and the warmth spread. Dusty swallowed hard. “I’ll be there.”

Chapter Seven

Viv debated between taking a table at the window and one farther back in the darker corner. A light snow was falling outside, and the scattered flakes drifting through the muted lamplight was a nice view—kind of warm and sensual. On the other hand, they’d have more privacy away from the customers moving through the restaurant and the passers-by on the sidewalk glancing in the windows. And here she was, dithering about atmosphere when she’d just met the woman and didn’t even know if this was a date. She almost snorted at her pathetic attempt to fool herself. Of course it was a date. She knew it, even if Dusty didn’t. Yet.

“I think the one in the back,” she said decidedly.

“Very good.” The manager plucked two menus from a stack at the end of the sushi bar and led her through the narrow aisle to the table.

“Can I get you anything while you wait?” he asked.

She knew the menu and the wine list by heart. The restaurant was close to the White House and a favorite place for the press corps to grab takeout or a fast sit-down meal. She ordered her usual glass of white wine.

“One moment,” he said and disappeared with practiced efficiency.

A waitress returned far less than a moment later with her wine. Viv sipped, surprisingly content just to relax and wait. She didn’t even bother taking her phone out of her pocket to check her mail. She chose instead to enjoy the swirl of expectation building along her spine, something she rarely experienced. She wasn’t averse to dating, she just didn’t have the time or the inclination to make time for the few people who had caught her interest in the last year or so. She’d been dating a gallery owner steadily before she’d gotten the White House press assignment. Back then she’d been hustling to win a slot on a regular column, and she’d taken whatever story assignments had come her way. Since there weren’t all that many, her hours were fairly regular. Once she’d caught the White House beat, her work hours doubled overnight and her schedule descended into total chaos. She canceled dinner dates, had to jump out of bed in the middle of the night—occasionally in the midst of intimate moments, and finally missed one too many art openings or evenings at the theater. Her lover delivered an ultimatum that had been as unexpected as it had been unfathomable. Choose between her job and her relationship. She’d been too shocked to do anything more than say she was sorry, but there was no way she could give up her job. She didn’t add: not for a relationship that was nothing more than pleasant. Pleasant wasn’t something she had time for any longer. Pleasant was undemanding companionship, good conversation, a shared meal, a mutually satisfying evening in bed. Pleasant was nice but not critical, and ultimately expendable.

She sipped her wine, savoring the woodsy flavor and the warmth that stirred in her middle. Warmth that was only partly due to the wine. She was looking forward to the possibility that a meal with an interesting woman presented, anticipating the discovery, the surprise, the excitement. Things she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Things she hadn’t realized, until just this moment, she missed.

“Is this seat taken?”

Viv blinked and heat rushed to her face. Dusty stood a few feet away, her hand on the back of the empty chair across from Viv, a whimsical glint in her eyes.

“Oh my God,” Viv said, hoping she hadn’t been ignoring her. “I was daydreaming and didn’t see you coming.”

Dusty took mercy on her and pulled out the chair and sat down. “A good daydream?”

Viv suspected her face was on fire at this point, but something about Dusty emboldened her, made her take chances. She turned the wineglass in her hand, her gaze meeting Dusty’s questioning one. “A very good one. I was thinking about you, actually.”