Before Sunrise. Diana Palmer

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      She looked as if she’d run straight into his arms with the least invitation, and he smiled indulgently as he gave it to her. He levered away from the wall and opened his arms.

      She went into them without any hesitation whatsoever, nestling close as he enfolded her tightly.

      “You came,” she murmured happily into his shoulder.

      “I said I would,” he reminded her. He chuckled at her unbridled enthusiasm. One lean hand tilted up her chin so that he could search her eyes. “Four years of hard work paid off, I see.”

      “So it did. I’m a graduate,” she said, grinning.

      “Certifiable,” he agreed. His gaze fell to her soft pink mouth and darkened. He wanted to bend those few inches and kiss her, but there were too many reasons why he shouldn’t. His hand was on her upper arm and, because he was fighting his instincts so hard, his grip began to tighten.

      She tugged against his hold. “You’re crushing me,” she protested gently.

      “Sorry.” He let her go with an apologetic smile. “That training at Quantico dies hard,” he added on a light note, alluding to his service with the FBI.

      “No kiss, huh?” she chided with a loud sigh, searching his dark eyes.

      One eye narrowed amusedly. “You’re an anthropology major. Tell me why I won’t kiss you,” he challenged.

      “Native Americans,” she began smugly, “especially Native American men, rarely show their feelings in public. Kissing me in a crowd would be as distasteful to you as undressing in front of it.”

      His eyes softened as they searched her face. “Whoever taught you anthropology did a very good job.”

      She sighed. “Too good. What am I going to use it for in Charleston? I’ll end up teaching…”

      “No, you won’t,” he corrected. “One of the reasons I came was to tell you about a job opportunity.”

      Her eyes widened, brightened. “A job?”

      “In D.C.,” he added. “Interested?”

      “Am I ever!” A movement caught her eye. “Oh, there’s Aunt Derrie!” she said, and called to her aunt. “Aunt Derrie! Look, I graduated, I have proof!” She held up her diploma as she ran to hug her aunt and then shake hands with U.S. Senator Clayton Seymour, who’d been her aunt’s boss for years before they became engaged.

      “We’re both very happy for you,” Derrie said warmly. “Hi, Cortez!” she beamed. “You know Clayton, don’t you?”

      “Not directly,” Cortez said, but he shook hands anyway.

      Clayton’s firm lips tugged into a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you from my brother-in-law, Kane Lombard. He and my sister Nikki wanted to come today, but their twins were sick. He won’t forget what he owes you. Kane always pays his debts.”

      “I was doing my job,” Cortez reminded him.

      “What happened to Haralson?” Derrie asked curiously, referring to the petty criminal who’d planted toxic waste and in one fell swoop almost cost Clayton Seymour his congressional seat and Kane Lombard his business.

      “Haralson got twenty years,” he replied, sticking his hands deep in his pockets. He smiled coldly. “Some cases I enjoy prosecuting more than others.”

      “Prosecuting?” Derrie asked. “But you told me last year in Charleston that you were with the CIA.”

      “I was with the CIA and the FBI, briefly,” he told her. “But for the past few years, I’ve been a federal prosecutor.”

      “Then how did you wind up tracking down people who plant toxic waste?” she persisted.

      “Just lucky, I guess,” he replied smoothly.

      “That means he’s through talking about it,” Phoebe murmured dryly. “Give up, Aunt Derrie.”

      Clayton gave Phoebe a curious glance, which she intercepted with a smile. “Cortez and I are friends,” she told him. “You can thank his investigative instincts for saving your congressional seat.”

      “I certainly do,” Clayton replied, relaxing. “I almost made a hash of everything,” he added, with a warm, tender glance toward Derrie, who beamed up at him. “If you’re going to be in town tonight, we’d love to have you join us for supper,” he told Cortez. “We’re taking Phoebe out for a graduation celebration.”

      “I wish I had time,” he said quietly. “I have to go back tonight.”

      “Of course. Then we’ll see you again sometime, in D.C.,” Derrie said, puzzled by the strong vibes she sensed between her niece and Cortez.

      “I’ve got something to discuss with Phoebe,” he said, turning to Derrie and Clayton. “I need to borrow her for an hour or so.”

      “Go right ahead,” Derrie said. “We’ll go back to the hotel and have coffee and pie and rest until about six. Then we’ll pick you up for supper, Phoebe.”

      “Thanks,” she said. “Oh, my cap and gown…!” She stripped it off, along with her hat, and handed them to Derrie.

      “Wait, Phoebe, weren’t the honor graduates invited to a luncheon at the dean’s house?” Derrie protested suddenly.

      Phoebe didn’t hesitate. “They’ll never miss me,” she said, and waved as she joined Cortez.

      “An honor graduate, too,” he mused as they walked back through the crowd toward his rental car. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

      “Anthropology is my life,” she said simply, pausing to exchange congratulations with one of her friends on the way. She was so happy that she was walking on air.

      “Nice touch, Phoebe,” the girl’s companion murmured with a dry glance at Cortez as they moved along, “bringing your anthropology homework along to graduation.”

      “Bill!” the girl cried, hitting him.

      Phoebe had to stifle a giggle. Cortez wasn’t smiling. On the other hand, he didn’t explode, either. He gave Phoebe a stern look.

      “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s sort of a squirrelly day.”

      He shrugged. “No need to apologize. I remember what it’s like on graduation day.”

      “Your degree would be in law, right?”

      He nodded.

      “Did your family come to your graduation?” she asked curiously.

      He didn’t answer her. It was a deliberate snub, and it should have made her uncomfortable, but she never held back with him.

      “Another case of instant foot-in-mouth disease,” she said immediately. “And I thought I was cured!”

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