Page 31 of Missile Strike

His presence was a solid wall behind her—a wall that felt oddly comforting even though she lived in a perfectly safe neighborhood.

When they reached the front stoop, she dug in her purse for her keys. Trip barked a welcome from inside the house.

“Thank you again. I had a nice time.” He was standing so close that the difference in their heights was even more striking. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

He smelled of the ocean and driftwood—like the beach on a warm, sunny day. And if she closed her eyes, she could picture him as a teenager in his brightly patterned board shorts, bare-chested, throwing a football with friends across the sand as the tide lapped at their ankles.

“You’re welcome.” His voice had gone all husky.

Her eyes flew open. Crap. Had she actually closed them while standing this close to him, her head tilted up, as if expecting a kiss?

He was watching her too closely with the same heated look he’d given her at the restaurant when he’d been putting on a show for the reporter.

Heat flushed her cheeks.

Silence hung between them, thick with humidity and tension.

A curtain came down over Danny’s expression, shuttering it. He stepped back, letting her draw a full breath. “Let’s go over the gala guest list tomorrow after you get home from work. I’ll bring takeout. How’s Indian sound?”

Before she could sputter out a reply, he’d returned to his car. She backed inside and closed her door, then peered through her front window as the Mustang’s red taillights disappeared around the corner.

In less than twelve hours, Danny Mayhew had upended her quiet, orderly existence.

Trip nudged her hand.

She patted him on the head with a sigh and glanced around her living room. She’d wanted more color, but Talia had convinced her a neutral palette would stay current longer, leaving only the bedroom as her minor rebellion.

Speaking of Talia, she needed advice—from someone she trusted.

After pouring herself a glass of wine, she curled up on the couch and called her friend.

“You’re not going to believe who showed up as the new head of security for my dad’s event,” she blurted out the second Talia answered her phone. “Danny Mayhew.”

“Wait, why is that name familiar?” Talia’s gasp buffeted Isabella’s ear. “Oh my God. Your high school crush. Lunch tomorrow. I want to know everything!”

“It’s a date.”

Chapter Seven

The next afternoon, Isabella found street parking in South End and paid through the parking app on her phone.

Across the street, Talia waved from the entrance of the vegetarian café where they’d agreed to meet. She was dressed in her classic corporate banker uniform—tailored navy trousers paired with a cream blouse and modest closed-toe pumps. Her stylish bob fell just below her chin and was an attractive shade of dark auburn, thanks to her favorite salon. Dark brown eyes framed by plum shadow and black liner drew attention to her face, where a small crescent-shaped scar rested beneath her right eye.

Isabella smiled and waved back.

Talia had always been impossible to ignore. They’d met at an economic development conference sponsored by Providence Bank shortly after Isabella got her job with AegisShield. Isabella had been standing alone near the edge of the ballroom, feeling hopelessly out of place among Charlotte’s business elite, when a brunette about her age appeared at her side with a glass of wine and announced, “Thank God. I thought I was the only person here hiding from the professional networkers.”

Isabella had laughed.

Somewhere between lunches, happy hours, and Talia’s refusal to accept polite distance, she’d become the closest friend Isabella had in Charlotte.

She used to have a wider circle of friends, but careers, moves, marriages, and time had slowly narrowed it until only Talia remained.

Or maybe she’d gotten lazy, and it was easier to manage fewer relationships. Sharing the details of her life had never come easily, but Talia was the exception.

A smile tugged at the corner of Isabella’s lips at the memory. Best of all, Talia never treated her differently because of who her father was.

“Izzy, I’ve been counting down the hours,” Talia gushed as she hugged Isabella. “I checked your location three times on the way here.”