He shot her an annoyed look. “We’re going to have to reschedule our meeting.”
Just like that, she’d gone from heroine to the back burner. I’ll never make partner at this rate.
She retreated to her office, wishing Rodney hadn’t called at such a bad time. Or at all. She didn’t dodge the bullet, so to speak, at the rally just to have her career and life go down in flames after all.
Staring at her phone, she was tempted to return dial the number. Tell him she couldn’t see him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Yet.
Chapter Four
Washington, D.C.
A few days later, a knock sounded on the door of Dee’s studio apartment. When she peered out of the peephole, she saw Rodney had indeed arrived for their date. A date she’d never bothered to cancel.
Today, he wore a plaid shirt and no hat, and his hair was pulled into a ponytail. Good. There was no need to draw attention to his identity.
“You came,” she said after letting him in and closing the door.
“You didn’t expect me to stand you up because I’m famous, did you?” He kissed her on the cheek. “You look great.”
After debating whether to wear a nightgown, bathrobe, or evening gown, she’d finally decided on tight black exercise pants and a purple tunic blouse. Luckily, she wasn’t cooking a gourmet dinner because his nearness and sunny-male scent short circuited her entire brain. It reminded her of clothes fresh from the clothesline.
Her kitchen, with its sleek silver appliances, looked a lot different than the old, rustic one of her homeplace.
“Have a seat,” she said, pointing to her simple kitchen table. “I hope you like buckwheat pancakes. It’s the only thing my mother taught me to make really well.” On a woodstove, no less.
“Sounds good and Southern. Where did you grow up?”
She poured the orange juice and coffee. “Wheeling, West Virginia. My parents are retired hippies and live off the grid.”
“I really admire anyone who has the guts to live that way,” he said after dumping a liberal dose of cream and sugar into his coffee.
“For real?” Dee poured some batter onto the grill. “I figured you’d love the rich lifestyle. A lot of people would kill to be where you are.”
“It gets old.” The tired expression on his face made him look older than his years, too, until he smiled again. “You have a nobler calling than I do. I just entertain people, but you help them.”
She flipped the pancakes over when they bubbled around the edges. “My parents raised me to make the world a better place.”
“Was going to the rally part of your job?”
“No. In fact, I’ve been warned not to do any more, which is fine with me. I can’t help anybody dead.”
She served the first batch of pancakes to the table so he could get started, but he didn’t touch them. What a gentleman. She poured the batter for her own cakes onto the griddle.
Why had she invited him here? Lust sprang to mind, which wasn’t very responsible of her. She had an important career and would have aging parents to take care of sooner than later. Was she entertaining a rebel under her roof because she felt a little rebellious herself? If so, she needed to get it out of her system, and quick, or her life might end up worse than the stabbing.
After she served the rest of the pancakes, Rodney finally dug in, as generous with the butter and syrup as he’d been with the cream and sugar for his coffee. Dee couldn’t take her eyes off his hands. He didn’t have long, skinny fingers like a lot of businessmen she dealt with. Instead, they were thick and strong, but he used them with gentleness. Just as he had with her wounds.
For a split second, she pictured him pouring the maple syrup on her breasts. Kissing it off just as gently…
Forcing her gaze back to her own plate, she fixed up her cakes and took the first bite. Speaking of syrup, she’d always assumed his eyes were brown, but up close they looked more like molasses or…whiskey. Something she wanted to sink into, never to be found again.
She was glad they hadn’t gone to a noisy restaurant. She needed to figure him out. See what he stood for. The sooner she got proof he was a bigot, the faster she could forget him, once and for all.
“Tasty,” he said. “Your mother taught you well.”
“Thanks.” She was tempted to keep her mouth shut or stick to light topics. Why ruin the harmony? Having breakfast with a handsome man felt more than good. She could really get used to it.
“Who would have guessed?” she blurted out. “Two people on opposite sides of the statue debate having breakfast together.”
He shot her a wary look while he chewed. “No two people agree exactly on everything. That’s what makes the world interesting.”
Again, the gentleman. Nice, but her job had taught her to sniff out all the facts and examine each one. Then make the judgment. Putting him on trial probably wasn’t fair, but justice was more important. Hadn’t Dad always said that? Making people feel uncomfortable—or comfortable, if needed—was a special talent of his.
She shot Rodney a pointed look. “You must feel strongly about the issue, or you wouldn’t have played there.”
“The gig was my brother’s bright idea to get more fans.” He frowned. “I’m not surprised it backfired. Hell, I never would’ve done it if I’d known it would cause bloodshed.”
Well, score a point for Rodney, but she was far from done with her questioning.
“Is your brother in the band?”
He nodded. “He’s the lead guitarist.”
She forced herself to remember the band playing on the steps, before all hell had broken loose. The guy sort of resembled Rodney physically. Same build, short beard, and long hair, a little browner than gold, but something about him was so different. Harder.
“So, explain the heritage versus hate thing to me because I
