Baby steps. That’s what he should take. Get through the trial, then see what came after that.
At the moment, he’d work through breakfast. Then he’d just have to wait and see.
* * *
“Correct me if i’m wrong here,” Gillian said, pushing herself up in bed, “but aren’t I supposed to be taking care of you?” She eyed the elaborate breakfast tray with two perfectly fried eggs, hash browns and saucer of canned peaches—they’d finished the last of the fresh ones days earlier. The potatoes’ peppery smell was the best thing she’d woke to in a long time. Then she made the mistake of glancing at Joe.
God, he was gorgeous.
She swallowed hard.
“You complaining?” He teased her by taking the tray back.
“No way.” She meant to tease him in response, but somehow when her hands landed on his, physical lightning struck, and she snatched them away, back to the safety of her lap. “Thanks, Joe.”
“You’re welcome.” He settled the tray across her knees before returning to the stove.
Gillian had already downed one egg and started on number two when it dawned on her she was in bed instead of the sofa. “Um, Joe?”
“Yeah?” he said over the crackle of his own frying eggs.
“Mind telling me how I ended up between your sheets?”
He told her, and if the food hadn’t been so delicious, she’d have lost her appetite. What kind of marshal was she? Rotten. How could she have fallen asleep like that? So soundly she hadn’t even woken when Joe carried her to bed? Even worse, how could she have forgotten to set the perimeter alarms? What if something had happened to him? How would she live with herself? With the knowledge that everything her father and brothers thought about her had been right?
“Come on, Gil, don’t get all pouty on me. It was an honest mistake. You weren’t feeling well. You said your allergies had been bugging you. Everyone has off days.”
Hands to her forehead, shaking her head, Gillian said, “Take a second to truly hear what you just said, Joe. Then take another second to remind yourself who I am.”
“Yeah, you’re a marshal. What of it?”
“What of it?” Setting the tray aside, she shoved back the covers and stood. “I’m here to protect you, only I’m obviously doing a pretty shabby job.”
He flipped his eggs. “How so? I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“You know what I mean. What if the agents assigned to protect Willow hadn’t felt—” She put her hands over her mouth.
“And she died, anyway. What’s your point?” His posture changed. From relaxed, his whole body went rigid. His jaw hardened. “Supposedly, the guys watching after her had been at the top of their game. Best of the best. Look what happened.”
“Oh, God, Joe. I didn’t mean to be so—”
“What? Insensitive? Look.” He took the pan off the stove. “Maybe the whole reason I even let you stay here was because you’re not like other marshals. And I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
“But don’t you see?” Gillian said. “It is bad. I’m supposed to sleep practically sitting up. You know, the whole one-eye-open routine. Always on alert. I’m not supposed to be having the best nights’ rest of my life. Especially not when—”
“What?”
She’d been about to mention the incidents with the missing muffins and falling log and bloodied sock. But why? Maybe Kavorski had been right, and she was just a hopeless screwup as an agent.
“Gillian? What’s wrong?”
She looked down, then back up, smiling. “Nothing. Nothing at all’s wrong.”
“Good. Then when—and if—the time comes when I truly need protecting, you’ll be wide-awake and good to go.”
10
* * *
“You gonna mope all day?” Joe asked over his shoulder after throwing his latest of three dozen perfect casts off the end of the dock.
“You shouldn’t be out in the open like this. You’re exposed.”
“And here I thought you’d be proud of me for trying to catch our supper.”
“I’ve got plenty of dried food. You’ve got canned goods and pasta and vegetables.”
“Yum,” he said with a deadpan flourish. “Seriously, Gillian, get over it. You fell asleep. One time. I’m fine. You’re fine. I promise not to tell your boss the stupid alarms didn’t get set. And hell, with all this fog, how are the bad guys supposed to even find me?”
“Yeah, and with all this fog, if the bad guys did show up, the good guys wouldn’t be able to see them in time to stop them. Leaving me alone to protect you, which is why I think we should head back to the cabin.”
“We will. Just let me catch dinner first.”
She rolled her eyes.
“I saw that. Keep it up, and I won’t let you eat any of whatever I catch.”
Good. I don’t deserve to.
Gillian squared her shoulders, trying to see beyond the fog, but having little luck—not just with uncooperative weather, but the doubts swimming in her head. Were her father and brothers right? Was she not cut out for this job? Did she owe it to Joe to take herself off his case?
Her heart said no, that no one knew him like she did. Cared for him like she did. Her head was only too happy to point out that her heart had no business being involved in any aspect of his case.
A branch cracked somewhere in the forest behind them and she looked that way, only there was nothing to see but swirls of gray. Her stomach tightened.
“If all this scowling is about you feeling like you’re not good enough, Gil, think again. Gotta admit, though I was pretty ticked about it at the time, you have a genuine knack for putting folks at ease. Well, guess I shouldn’t say folks in the plural, seeing how the only people I’ve ever seen you around is me. But seriously, I’m not sure what kind of head games you played on me—if they were games at all, or just part of your natural charm. But you’ve got to know that if it hadn’t been for you, I never would’ve even considered testifying on this case. I would’ve thought it was hopeless. Figured what was the point? That both Meggie and me would be safer if I just stayed put.”
“You mean that?”
He cast again. His hook and sinker made a soft plop when it hit the water. “In the time you’ve known me, have I struck you as the type to lie?”
“No, but—”
“Hot damn! Got one!”
The excitement over watching Joe reel in a huge sea bass won out over her own fears that she wasn’t good enough to do her job. And that cracking branch? Probably just one of the few deer Joe had said were on the island. Not in the mood to stick around and find out, she said, “Seeing how that fish is easily big enough to feed both of us, will you now come with me back to the cabin?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Catching this fish was pretty fun. Sure you don’t wanna give it a try?”
“Maybe tomorrow.”
“All right, then, I suppose you’re boss.” He shot a charmingly roguish wink her way, causing her stomach to flip.
How was she supposed to think of him in terms of being nothing more than a case when he was pulling stunts like that?
He was obviously placating her. So how come if her father, brothers or guys at the office had pulled the same stunt, she’d have gone ballistic? With Joe, she just felt grateful that he’d finally come to his senses.
* * *
“That was delicious,” Joe said, napkin to his lips. “Had I known you were that good with sea bass, I’d have caught you one days ago.”
“Thanks.” His unexpected compliment warmed her to her toes. “You forget, this was my backyard, and with four males in the house, there were always plenty of fish to fry.”
“Yeah, but I thought they wouldn’t let you near a stove?”
“That was only when I was little.” She sipped at lukewarm iced tea. “Once I got into my teens, they were all too happy for the kitchen to be my domain. They were real big proponents of women’s work and all that.” She shrugged. “Guess they probably
still are.”
“Been awhile since you’ve seen them?”
“A nice long while. Can’t say I miss them.”
“Oh, come on.” Joe forked up another bite. “Growing up with all that male attention couldn’t have been that bad. There had to have been some good times?”
In all fairness, yes, there had been some fun, but that didn’t make up for the way her family had made her feel. Like she was just a girl.
“Well?”
“Sure there were. I had the most tricked-out pink bike in town. And the best fairy princess bunk bed on the planet—complete with a tower and moat. Trouble was, I didn’t want any of that. I wanted baseball bats and Matchbox cars. A regular bike like the boys had. Mine was so girly boys my age laughed at it, and the girls called me a snotty show-off.”
“Did you ever try telling your brothers how you felt?”
She shrugged, scooping up a bite of canned green beans. “Wouldn’t have done any good.”
“And you’re the one who’s been lecturing me on taking a second chance with my daughter?” Joe raised his eyebrows.
“Touché. Quite a pair, aren’t we?” She flashed him a wavery smile.
That what we are, Gillian? A pair?
What a gift that would be. To once again find a friend like he’d had in his wife. But to set the record straight—just a friend. Yeah, he was physically attracted to Gillian, but that was just science. She was a good-looking woman. No sense in denying that. But there wasn’t more. Couldn’t be more.
“Wonder what the weather’s supposed to be tomorrow?” She took her last bite of fish.
“Anyone’s guess.” He took his last bite of beans.
“Yeah.”
“Why? Got plans?”
She shrugged. “Might be nice to get out of here for a while. I feel cooped up.”
“Thought you said it was safer for me in here?”
“It is.” She shot him a look. “But if the weather’s okay, I don’t see what it’d hurt to take a nice long walk in the woods, where you wouldn’t be exposed.”
He groaned. “Not another picnic?”
“God forbid.” She made a face. “But would it be all right if I happened to stash a chunk of cheese or a candy bar in my pocket? Or do you prefer that your very own personal marshal just starve?”
“Why so testy?” Joe asked.
Gillian looked away.
Gee, could it be she was testy because of his dead silence following her offhand statement calling them a pair? And here he’d had to go and take it all personal, like she’d…like she’d what? Actually thought of the two of them in terms of being a couple?
Absolutely not!
This assignment was wonkers. Way different from any other job her office had handled. Normally, she’d have been on a rotating shift with other teams of marshals. She’d never just be on her own like this. Living with a man. Sharing meals and intimacies such as cooking breakfasts, lunches and dinners. Brushing teeth and helping each other with all sorts of things like applying eyedrops and searching for lost socks.
If it weren’t for the bloodied sock being stowed away for use as possible evidence, she could’ve believed she’d imagined that whole thing. Bud had eaten the muffins. The log had simply fallen. And the island was a little too perfect a setting. Which was the only reason she even had time to ponder her feelings for the man she’d been assigned to protect.
He sighed. “Picnics just aren’t my thing. Willow used to take Meggie on them all the time. In the backyard, to any park with swings or ducks.” He tapped his fork against the edge of his plate.
“You were invited?”
“Well, yeah. Sure, I went, too. It’s just…I don’t know. Hard being on a picnic with anyone but them.”
“You seemed fine the other day.”
“I was. But why tempt fate by doing it again?”
“Sure…Can I ask you a question?” Gillian blurted.
“Go for it.” He eased back in his chair.
“Do you find me attractive?”
Ramrod straight again, he said, “What the hell kind of question is that?”
She raised her chin. “Don’t read anything into it. I’d just like a man’s perspective. When we get off of this rock, I’m thinking about throwing myself back into the dating pool and—”
Leaning across the table, he reached for her hand. “You’re very pretty—and smart. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
“Really?”
“What’re you going for here, because I know you’re not dumb enough to think for one second you’re not a good-looking woman.”
Funny, but in her mind, she still saw herself as a girl. Not big enough to play her brothers’ games. Certainly not mature enough to be part of a relationship. It was for the best that she and Kent had gone separate ways. She wasn’t ready for more. “Did you like being married?”
“Mmm.” He flashed her a weak smile. “Another off-the-wall question.”
“You know what I mean. The day-to-day stuff. Did it ever get boring? I mean, did you ever just wake up thinking, man, this just isn’t working out? I’ve gotta have my own space?”
He took a second to think about it, then said, “Nope. Don’t get me wrong, me and Willow had our share of fights about the usual things. Her spending too much on clothes. Me spending too much time at work. But overall, she was my world. Guess that’s why I’m having such a hard time being in a world without her. Just doesn’t fit.”
“Sorry.”
He shrugged before grabbing both of their plates, then heading for the sink. “If you’re not currently even dating anyone, what do you care about marriage?”
“I don’t.”
He filled a big pot with water, then turned on the stove to heat it.
“I was just curious, that’s all. About what it’s like—being married. Nothing personal.” Like wondering if she were to ever meet a guy like him outside of a work situation, if things might be this good. This easy. Sure, she’d enjoyed her time with Kent, but she’d never once experienced this magnetic hum of perfection.
“Come on, Bud.” She pushed back her chair. “Let’s go outside so I can set the alarms before conking out.”
The dog just sat on his pillow looking at her.
“Tired?” Joe asked from the sink.
She nodded before taking her jacket from the peg beside the door.
Bud slowly made his way, toenails clicking, after her.
“Let me take him,” Joe said. “The fog’s cleared since we went fishing. Bet your fellow good guys are doing a swell job patrolling my shores.”
“Right. They’re doing their job, meaning I should do mine—not you.”
“You PMSing?”
Casting him the mother of all glares, she said, “You didn’t just say that.”
He dried his hands on a dish towel before tucking his hands in his jeans pockets, casually strolling her way. A smile played about the corners of his full, sensual mouth, but there was nothing happy in his eyes. They read intensity. Heat. “What are you going to do if I did?”
He stood so close, she could’ve reached out and grabbed a fistful of his smooth cotton T-shirt. She could have slipped her other hand over the dimple at the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss that would rock both their worlds.
She could’ve done all that, but being a professional, she settled for just licking her lips.
“What’re you doing to me?” he said, close enough that his warm breath did the kissing for him.
Grabbing the open sides of her jacket, he eliminated the space between them, closing his eyes before resting his forehead against hers.
Afraid her legs might buckle beneath her, she said,
“I—I’m not on my period.”
“I know.”
How?
“Guys aren’t dumb. Especially not married guys.”
“But you’re not married anymore.”
“I still think like I’m married.”
Th
en why are you holding me?
He skimmed his broad hands, his long strong fingers, up the sides of her face and into her hair, freeing it of its scrunchie. He held her hair, shifting to bring some to his nose. “I love the smell of this stuff. Any guy would.”
I’m terrified that I don’t want any guy. Just you.
“Let me take care of Bud.”
From somewhere, she found the strength to shake her head. With narrowed eyes, she made out the shape of his mouth. Her lips tingled from craving him. Not just his touch, but his taste. “You shouldn’t go outside.”
“I’m the man. Dog walking is my duty.”
“Protecting you is my duty.” Her heart hammered, as did his. She felt it pounding against her. “I can’t do this,” she softly said.
“Me, neither.”
Bud whined. Scratched at the door.
“So what do you want to do?” Joe asked, easing his broad hands down her back, putting her in far more danger than she’d ever been in from a mere gun-toting thug. That was just her work. This, standing in the circle of Joe’s all-too-capable arms, was the real deal.
What did she want to do?
Forget Tsun-Chung’s trial even existed. Forget her father and brothers and career, and focus solely on Joe. His taste, touch. His taking her roughly, right there on the floor in a crushing union that made her forget everything she thought she was and ever wanted to be.
She wanted him.
Only him.
But it was wrong, and so she stepped away, then called out to the dog.
Her hand on the doorknob, she was pulling the door shut when Joe said, “Gillian?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Your, um, eyes look red. Like your allergies are bugging you. Want me to put more drops in them when you get back?”
“Yes, please,” she murmured, drawing the door closed, trying to ignore the contentment his simple, sweet caring sent shimmering through her body.
11
* * *
“Joe, nothing happened last night.” The next morning, Gillian begrudgingly followed Joe along a trail so heavily wooded, it almost felt as if they were marching through a cave. And make no mistake, they were marching. Joe seemed driven by an invisible wolf pack nipping at his heels. If she had her way, they wouldn’t have left the house. Her unease was back, along with a queasy, prickly sensation that something far more than Joe’s grumpy mood wasn’t right. “We didn’t even kiss, if that’s what has you so upset.”
U.S. Marshals: Hunted (U.S. Marshals Book 1) Page 10