Free The Stolen Girl by Samantha Westlake

any purchase, couldn’t find any holes in the rhetoric coming from the woman on the stage. As he listened, Sterling had to admit that he felt a faint but growing sense of admiration. This woman had clearly handled situations like this before, and knew how to handle a crowd.
    Sterling’s gaze soon settled onto Carol’s feet, a neutral area for his eyes to rest. She was dressed in a pair of black low-heeled shoes, and her slacks were short enough for Sterling to catch a glimpse of ankle as she shifted back and forth. And, weirdly enough, he noticed how her ankles were quite shapely, pale but unblemished skin curving nicely around the start of her legs. For a moment, his eyes nearly tracked upward towards her ass, but he managed to get ahold of himself before that. It would look terrible if he was seen checking out another woman while at a press conference about his missing daughter!
    Carol took a few more questions, but it was clear that her patience was growing thin. Eventually, she raised her hand, cutting off an especially verbose young reporter mid-sentence, and announced that the conference was over.
    As the reporters still present slumped their shoulders and began to pack up, Carol had gestured to Sterling that they could head back inside, back into the house. She fell in behind him as he walked, but after they had entered through the back door into the kitchen, she gave him a comforting pat on the arm. “You did a great job,” she said, her tone quiet and soothing.
    Sterling nodded, turning to face her after the door was shut. “Thank you,” he said with sincerity. He pulled open his fridge, retrieving a beer, and then glanced over at the agent. “Would you like a drink?”
    He hadn’t meant the offer as anything but friendly (at least, that’s what he said to himself), but the woman blinked in surprise. She began to shake her head, but then paused. “You know what, I think I would,” she said instead.
    Sterling pulled out a beer and passed it over to her. He noted with a hint of appreciation as she easily twisted off the top and took a sip. “Ah, that’s not bad,” she commented with feeling, gazing down at the bottle.
    The senator opened up his own beer, and then strolled into the living room, settling into his normal position on the couch. Carol followed him, stepping over towards the mantle and peering at the pictures set along the shelf.
    “Was this your wife?” she asked in a kind tone, after gazing at a few of the photographs.
    Sterling nodded. “Yes. She passed away when Elizabeth was nine,” he said. He climbed to his feet and walked over to stand next to Carol, looking wistfully at the pictures and doing his best to block out the flood of memories that they evoked.
    Standing this close to the FBI agent, he could catch a hint of her perfume as she moved, her gently flowing hair wafting the scent towards him. She smelled ever so faintly of lavender; the smell was surprisingly calming and feminine for Sterling’s impression of the woman.
    Reaching the last photograph, Carol turned, but she didn’t realize how close Sterling was standing behind her, and the two nearly collided. “Oh! I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, looking up at him, but she didn’t back away immediately. Her eyes met his, and he once again noticed the softness of her face. For just a moment, Sterling felt the inexplicable urge to lean in, to gaze into those blue eyes from just an inch away.
    The moment lasted just slightly too long, neither of them wanting to pull away. To his surprise, Sterling felt a growing attraction to this woman. He had no idea why - the two of them had barely known each other for a day! And yet, inexplicable as it was, it couldn’t be denied.
    Carol blinked, and Sterling finally took a step back, taking his seat once again on the couch. “What about you, Agent Gates?” he asked. “What’s your story?”
    “Carol, please,” she replied, settling onto the couch cushions on the other side of the