Hawthorn’s stare could have bored through steel. Conn knew his answer wasn’t an affirmative, but his time in the army taught him how and when to keep his mouth shut. When uncomfortable, most people talked to fill silences; it was one of a detective’s main staples to get information. Just wait, because the witness or the suspect would crack and start talking first.
But Hawthorn wasn’t a witness, or a suspect. He’d been a cop longer than Conn, and came from a family of cops. But Conn knew he didn’t have to outlast his LT. He just had to last long enough for Cady to get off the phone with Chris. But it was like being ground between two stones: the LPD and Cady’s safety.
“What are you two doing over here?” she asked. “Having a staring contest?”
“We’re coming to an agreement, Ms. Ward,” Hawthorn said, his gaze still fixed on Conn. He waited for his LT to throw him under the bus and tell Cady everything. “Is there anything else the department can do to help you feel safe?”
“No, thanks,” Cady said. “You’ve already done so much. I’m comfortable with where we’ve left things.”
“Then we will proceed exactly as we have been,” Hawthorn said, still looking at Conn.
Conn didn’t flinch. He didn’t so much as blink. It was easy enough for Hawthorn to make promises and walk away, back to his budget meetings and his statistics. He wasn’t the one guarding Cady every hour of every day, watching her struggle to finish her album, worry about her future, handle her family and friends and fans with grace and aplomb with this threat hanging over her head.
He wasn’t the one in love with her.
Oh, shit.
“Great,” Cady said cheerfully.
Conn startled before he remembered that while Cady’s songs made it seem like she could see into his soul, she couldn’t. She was looking at him like she’d looked at him every other second they’d been together, wary and fascinated, like she wanted to touch but wasn’t sure she could.
Hawthorn arched an eyebrow, clearly catching some nuance he’d missed before, one Conn didn’t want his LT recording, analyzing, slotting into the statistics and bar charts he probably kept on all his officers. Likes Indian food and country music. Drives a Bronco. Takes kids on ATV rides in the winter. Breeds angora rabbits because his daughter loves them. Divorced twice.
Falling in love with Cady Ward.
For the life of him, Conn couldn’t figure out how to get out of this one. Cady saved the day. She held out her hand to Hawthorn, gave him a wide smile, and said, “Thanks so much for coming all the way out here, Lieutenant Hawthorn. I really appreciate it. If you’re interested, I can get you tickets and backstage passes to the kick-off concert for my next tour. I always start in Lancaster.”
Hawthorn blushed. Conn got a grip on the counter, because the world was reeling on its moorings. Ian Hawthorn actually blushed like a little girl, the tips of his ears going as red as the tomatoes ripening on Cady’s counter. “That’s not necessary, Ms. Ward,” he said. “We’re just doing our jobs.”
Conn tried hard not to think about how extremely unprofessional his interactions with Cady had been as he watched Cady arch an eyebrow at Hawthorn. “You came to my house on a Saturday afternoon before the holidays. I’m sure you have better things to be doing, and I appreciate you going above and beyond to keep me safe. I’d be honored to have you come to the concert as my guest.”
Hawthorn struggled with professional ethics for maybe another five seconds, then gave in. “That would be great,” he said. “I used to watch you sing in SoMa, when I was on patrol.”
She smiled. “I’ll be in touch when we have a date, so I know how many tickets you want.”
She’d managed to totally disarm Hawthorn, something Conn had never seen in all his time working with the undercover unit. Hawthorn collected his folders and his laptop, pulled on his coat and said goodbye. When she closed the door behind him, she flipped the deadbolt and turned to Conn.
“What was that all about?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What do you mean?” Conn said, stalling for time. He’d been in love before. He wasn’t that badly fucked up that he thought he’d never love again. This felt different. Trying to pinpoint exactly why while Cady glared at him with narrowed eyes was beyond him.
“We’re coming to an agreement? He’s not trying to push cameras on me, is he?”
“No,” Conn said, totally truthfully. “He meant something else.”
“The accusation that you beat up that prisoner?”
Damn, she was quick. Also, not self-centered. Unlike all the stories he’d heard of celebrities becoming self-absorbed divas, Cady thought about the people close to her. If anyone was acting like a self-absorbed diva, it was Emily, but maybe that was just teenage girl.
He had less than a second to decide whether or not to involve her even more deeply in that case. “Yes,” he said.
“Well? What’s happening?”
“Nothing,” he said. He took her arm to guide her away from the windows at the front of the house, but ended up with her fingers woven through his as they headed to the sofa in front of the fireplace.