“I’d like to ask you a few questions if you have a minute?”
She hesitated, not wanting to ruin her big night with a bout of nerves.
“I’ll be sure you don’t miss your entrance for the statue unveiling,” Cole assured her.
Anxiety fluttered through her. She really needed to help him. To protect her child’s future, she was invested in finding Rich Lowell and holding him accountable for everything he’d done. But she regretted the timing for this interview during an important night for her career.
Before she could respond, Vaughn separated himself from the crowd, reaching her side with three long strides. A bolt of relief—and the ever-present desire—shot through her to see him. He looked incredible in his perfectly fitted tuxedo and—more surprisingly—a clean-shaven face that revealed a slight scar along the bottom of his chin that gave his handsome face character. And made her want to kiss him right there.
“You look beautiful, Abigail,” he murmured, sliding a possessive arm around her waist and drawing her against his side. Then he turned his attention to the private investigator. “Cole Sullivan, it’s been a long time.” He shook the man’s hand and the two men exchanged pleasantries.
Cole was a member of the Texas Cattleman’s Club, apparently, and a local rancher who worked part-time for the Walsh Group. The former Texas Ranger handled the security firm’s most challenging cases.
All of which she gleaned in the rapid back-and-forth between the men before Cole repeated his original request.
“I’d like to speak to Ms. Stewart for a few minutes, Vaughn.” The PI’s gaze returned to her. “I believe she was just about to agree to that.”
Anxiety spiked again. No doubt about it, Cole Sullivan made her nervous. Or maybe it was simply the thought of revisiting that night at the Ace in the Hole and the fight she’d seen there. Knowing how close she might have come to real danger was scary.
“May I join you?” Vaughn turned toward her, the question directed toward her and not Cole.
Vaughn’s green eyes searched hers, warming her insides and soothing some of the jitters she’d been feeling.
“I would appreciate that.” She’d like his company, his touch, his presence in her life a whole lot more than he would ever know.
But for right now, she was just grateful she wouldn’t be facing more questioning alone.
“Fair enough.” Cole nodded his satisfaction with the plan. “Where can we speak privately? This isn’t a conversation I want anyone else to overhear.”
Ten
Vaughn glanced back at Abigail as they left the rooftop garden with Cole, descending the stairs that led toward his office, where they could speak privately.
She looked incredible. The mass of dark hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, the glossy curls spilling down the center of her back. Her scarlet-colored cocktail gown had a floaty fabric around it that gave her the look of an ethereal creature, like one of the winged fairies he’d seen her carve in hidden nooks in the sculpture she’d made.
More than that, she glowed. He’d heard that about pregnant women, but had never noticed it with his own eyes the way he could see it in Abigail. Her skin had the dewy appearance that women tried to recreate with makeup, her cheeks pink with good health. When Vaughn had first seen her at the party he’d done a double take. Not that she was more beautiful in extravagant clothing, because he thought she was perfect in the tennis shoes and T-shirts she favored for work. But seeing her tonight was like discovering a new side of her, another fascinating facet to a woman who intrigued him at every turn.
“Thank you for joining us.” She said the words softly as he led her and Cole Sullivan out of the stairwell and into the corridor that led to his office. “I feel better having you here with me.”
With Cole a few steps behind her, checking messages on his phone, she probably thought their conversation was private enough. Although Vaughn would lay money Cole didn’t miss much.
“I’m hoping to wrangle a dance out of you in return.” He wanted to spend every minute of this evening with her, in fact, although some of his evening would need to be devoted to mingling.
Securing donations.
Because while the cost of admission covered the expense of the party as well as some money toward necessary hospital improvements, Royal Memorial counted on this well-heeled segment of the community for more than that. Vaughn was reasonably good at securing those kinds of donations, too. He had sacrificed the easy path in life—taking over his father’s business—to make a difference in the world. He walked the walk. So he didn’t mind urging people with deep pockets to make a difference by writing a check.
“I’ll definitely be ready for a dance afterward.” Her eyes glowed with warmth. With awareness.
Vaughn was glad to have distracted her from the questioning for a minute at least. The stress of those worries wasn’t good for her...or the baby. He opened the door to his office with a key card that tracked hours and time of use for the space. The medical arts building was attached to Royal Memorial, but occupied its own wing.
“Come on in.” Vaughn flipped on the lights, then held the door for both of them before letting it fall shut behind them. Inside, there was a consultation area with a couch and two chairs, so he wasn’t stuck sitting behind a desk when speaking to patients. The dynamic put people more at ease.
He took a seat beside Abigail on the low gray sofa, leaving Cole to take the chair opposite them. Abigail’s eyes wandered around the space briefly before Cole asked her to recount the night she’d gone to Ace in the Hole. While she shared the story Vaughn already knew, he wondered what she’d seen when she looked around the office.
He’d always viewed it as functional. But seeing the couple of generic canvases that had come
