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Wes waited to see where this would go. If Jennifer said something about not trusting Ryan Cosgrove, it might kill Bailey, but it might be the answer she was searching for.
“Women who complain often aren’t seen as within their right to speak up. Like if they do, they’re not up to the challenge. Especially living in New York City. If someone were bothering Caitie, she wouldn’t have mentioned it. Her head was in the books, and her ambition was unstoppable. She wanted to work on Wall Street and knew it would take thick skin and fighting for her place. Women bury awful things, sometimes subconsciously, other times…because we’re scared, and it’s self-preservation.” Jennifer swallowed hard. “That’s what I understand now that the nineteen-year-old me didn’t.”
The silence hung again as if Jennifer and Bailey were silently cataloging every instance where they’d battled misogyny dressed as roadblocks throughout a lifetime of getting where they were. Finally, Bailey laid down her pen. “You’re right.”
Jennifer nodded, and the women shared a knowing look that he would never understand, as much as he hoped to support them.
“Thank you,” Bailey added.
That was his cue to tear down their equipment setup.
It wasn’t that Jennifer Yang revealed a missing piece of evidence or a witness they needed to speak to, but Jennifer explained why the evidence and the witnesses might be missing. They could be lost to the world where young women fought to make it in a place that didn’t welcome them.
They walked out of the house and into the summer sunshine under a clear afternoon sky. He wished the sun would bleach the heaviness he carried out of Jennifer’s house. Only after they loaded into his truck and headed to the hotel did he start to decompress. Bailey let out a deep breath.
His gaze lingered on her as he threaded out of the suburban maze of well-manicured streets. “Are you okay?”
“I’m completely exhausted, but that was to be expected. How far are we from the hotel?”
They were in a beach town with plenty of hotel options. Their reservation was less than three miles away, though they were headed toward the beach during June. “You’ll be in your room in less than twenty minutes if traffic goes our way.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Perfect.”
His questions about the swipe card error would have to wait.
The hotel might have been close by, but parking was chaotic, and check-in was painfully slow. He didn’t mind the families checking in for their beach vacation. Tired toddlers demanded attention, bored teens sulked in the lobby, and judging by the number of lacrosse sticks he saw within fifteen minutes, some kind of travel tournament was nearby.
Their rooms were across the hall from each other. Wes carried her recording equipment into her room. Bailey dropped her overnight bag next to the desk and shrugged off the cardigan she’d worn over her long dress, revealing thin straps and sun-kissed shoulders that made his blood run hot. He didn’t know when shoulders had started doing it for him, but it was hard to tear himself away. He abruptly turned to check her door locks and not her shoulders.
“Standard hotel security.” He walked by the bed, where she’d tossed her cardigan and purse, and inspected the window. “Not much of a view.”
She took down her ponytail and shook her hair out. His fingers itched to run through the honey-brown strands. Wes refocused on the parking lot. “This place has a tenth as many security cameras as Jennifer Yang’s house.”
“I also noticed that.” She retied her hair.
Wes focused on the interview, not her hair, not the bed, not the way he wanted to explore every inch of her skin with his hands and tongue. Fuck. He’d ask Bailey more about what she made of Jennifer’s cameras after he’d pulled himself together. As long as he kept his head on the job, he had nothing to distract him.
He headed toward the door. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.” Far away, with two hotel doors between them. Plenty of space to clear his head.
“Wait.”
He really needed to leave. She stopped him at the desk, and the silky, soft caress of her arm brushed his. Arousal stormed over him. His breathing wasn’t as even as it should have been. He shoved his fists into his pockets. God, Wes had to get the hell out of a room with a bed and this beautiful woman who had his complete attention. Bailey could only be Bailey. Colleague. Podcaster. Mother. She wasn’t someone he could want. Wasn’t someone he could fuck. Not even someone he could continually fantasize about. But damn did he. Don’t go there should have been flashing like a neon sign above her head. Instead, he could only dream about kissing her sweet mouth.
She flipped open a hotel portfolio listing important numbers, room service, and local sights. “I thought I wanted a nap, but really, I need to eat.”
She was hungry. For food, and clearly not interested in every single blazing thought burning up his mind. Bailey needed him to be the professional she’d hired. Not to mention, single moms didn’t have the luxury of casual…whatever this could be, and he didn’t have that luxury because she was Bailey. Wes pulled a quiet breath through his nostrils and held it.
“There are a couple of restaurants we can walk to,” she suggested.
Just as quietly, he released the breath he’d been holding.
“Are you not hungry?” she asked.
“I am.” He concentrated on the list of nearby dine-in restaurants and needed to erase every thought of her. A blank canvas. Nothing on his face. How he went from detesting Bailey Cosgrove to wanting to touch her was lost on him.
Except it wasn’t. Not really. She was strong, smart, and stunningly beautiful. Wes shoved his hands back into his pockets and would sew them there if it kept him from accidentally grabbing her.
“Is anything catching your eye?” Bailey flipped the page, positioning the restaurant list so he could look more closely.
