by Lyn Horner
Dev knew what she intended to do. He padded quietly after her and watched as she retrieved her jacket from the staircase banister and slipped it on. Apparently unaware of him, she picked up a black purse from the bottom step.
“Are you planning to leave?” he asked, making her gasp and spin around.
“Yes. I’m going to my office.” She started for the front door, but he dashed forward and cut her off. She cried out, eyes growing huge, and fell back a step. Then she scowled. “What are you doing? Get out of my way!”
“No ma’am. You’re not going anywhere without me.” He jammed his fists on his hips and locked his jaw, determined to stop her even if he had to physically restrain her.
She blinked, looking properly intimidated. That didn’t last long. Her lips narrowed and her delicate golden brows dipped over her nose. “Don’t be ridiculous! I need to leave now so I can prepare for my first patient.”
He nodded. “Okay. Let me put my shoes on and we’ll go.”
“But … but you haven’t eaten or showered, and you don’t even have a change of clothes with you.”
“So? I’ll take care of all that after I see you safely to your office.”
She sighed dramatically, threw up her hands and snapped, “I’m leaving. If you’re coming, you’d better hurry.”
“Give me one minute.” Hotfooting it into the living room, Dev jammed his feet into his chukka boots and grabbed his keys off an end table. Hearing the door open and close, he rushed out after Michaela. He was relieved to find her waiting on the porch. She gave him an impatient frown and locked up. After a brief argument, she agreed to ride with him rather than take her car. Score one for me, he thought with a private grin.
When they arrived at the medical building, he led the way to her office, checking every side hall for hidden intruders before motioning her onward. Reaching her office, she unlocked and started to open the door.
“Wait. Let me look around inside first,” he said, gripping her arm.
She stared at him as if he were crazy. “You’re kidding. You think someone could be in there waiting to jump out at me?”
“It’s possible if they know how to jimmy a lock. Stay here.” Receiving a doubtful nod, he walked through her office, opening doors and even looking under desks. He didn’t care if she thought his efforts to protect her overzealous.
He found her right where he’d left her, glancing up and down the hall and rubbing her arms. “All clear. You can go in,” he said, glad to see she wasn’t quite as complaisant about her safety as she pretended to be. A little fear was a good thing in her situation.
Frowning, she marched inside past him, head held high. He grinned behind her back. Her self-confident demeanor probably served her well in her profession, but under that starched shell, he knew there existed a vulnerable woman, and a damn sexy one.
He took a seat in the waiting room and paged through a magazine while Michaela closed herself in her private office, getting ready for her first patient as she’d said. Jennifer the receptionist soon arrived, crying out in surprise when she found him sitting there.
Smiling, Dev said, “Don’t mind me. I’m here to make sure the doc is safe.”
“S-safe? F-from what?” Jennifer stammered in a squeaky voice. Edging behind her desk, she watched him like a rabbit staring at a big, bad wolf.
“From people who might hurt her.” Tossing the magazine on an adjacent table, he rose and walked over to face the redhead. She dropped into her chair abruptly, hugging a large, floppy handbag to her chest.
“She’s being stalked by a man who might try to harm her. Until he’s caught, it’s my job to protect Dr. Peterson.” It was the best story he could come up with and not far from wrong if he was correct about Andrew Kohler being in with the hellhounds.
“Oh!” Jennifer gulped, eyes huge behind her wire rims.
“Look, I need your help.” Trying to sound like a cop and hoping she didn’t ask to see a badge, he said, “I need to run down some leads on the suspects. While I’m gone, will you keep your eyes peeled and call me if any suspicious characters show up here?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good. Here’s my cell number.” Grabbing a pen and note pad from her desk, he scrawled the digits and pushed the pad over to her. “I’ll be back this afternoon to escort Mich … I mean Dr. Peterson home.” He started to turn away but had an afterthought.
“One more thing. Don’t say anything to her about our little talk, okay? She wouldn’t like me getting you involved in all this.”
Jennifer straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Yes, sir. You can depend on me,” she said with only a slight quiver in her voice.
Satisfied, Dev smiled and walked out. Returning to his hotel, he grabbed a bite to eat and more coffee in the restaurant then headed for his room to clean up. He showered and was drying off when his cell phone rang out the opening notes of The Yellow Rose of Texas. His heart slammed against his rib cage. Was it Jennifer calling to report trouble, or Michaela herself? Snatching the phone off the granite sink countertop where he’d laid it, he glanced at the caller’s number but didn’t recognize it. He punched Talk.
“Yeah!” he said in alarm, nearly shouting.
After a pause, a woman spoke. “Dev? It’s Lara. Are you okay?”
Sighing in relief, he leaned on the counter. “I’m fine, Lara. Sorry. I didn’t mean to holler in your ear.”
“That’s all right. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I was just worried it might be Michaela or her receptionist calling for help.”
There came another pause, then, “Who is Michaela?”
“Shi … oot! I forgot you don’t know.” He ran a hand through his long, damp hair. “I decoded Dr. Peterson’s first name wrong. It’s Michaela, not Michael.”
“Oh! She’s a woman!”
“She sure is.” And what a woman, he thought with a grin. “Guess I’d better fill you in on things.” Cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder, he grabbed a dry towel and wrapped it around his waist. “But first, tell me how you’re doing. Did you and Conn find Josie Tseda?” he asked as he padded out to the bedroom, referring to the ex-Army Navajo pilot they’d gone to find and ask for refuge.
“Yes, we did, and Josie has been very helpful. She led us to a place where I’m sure no one will find us. In fact, I think you should bring Dr. Peterson here as soon as possible.”
“I’d like to, but the lady isn’t cooperating.”
“What do you mean? Did you tell her my uncle was murdered? Did you explain she may be in grave danger?”
“I did. She took the news of your uncle’s death hard, but she doesn’t believe his killers might learn her identity and come after her.”
“But she must! You have to convince her, Dev.”
Struggling for patience, he paced back and forth past his bed. “I’m trying, Lara, but she’s refusing to leave Galveston. She’s a psychiatrist and has her practice to think of.”
“That’s no excuse! She is duty-bound to protect the … thing she has in her keeping.”
“You want to tell me what that thing is?”
“I can’t. All I can say is it could be dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands.”
The call ended with her final plea for him to make Michaela listen to reason, and Dev’s promise that he would, one way or another. He was left wondering how to keep that promise.
*
Michaela’s day passed with the usual procession of troubled patients who she counseled to the best of her ability. Nothing unusual happened except for Jennifer’s oddly nervous behavior. Suspecting Dev was at fault, she asked him about it as they walked out to the parking lot after work.
“Did you say something to frighten Jennifer this morning?”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Not that I recall. Why do you ask?”
“She seemed jumpy every time I spoke to her and she offered to order lunch brought in for both of us. She’s never done that unless I as
ked her to. When I declined the offer because I’d already agreed to meet a colleague for lunch, she tried to talk me out of going, as if she feared something might happen to me. I asked her if something was wrong. She said no, but I know she wasn’t being honest, and I think you had something to do with it.”
“I can’t slip anything by you, can I,” Dev said with a rueful laugh. “You’re right, I did speak to Miss Jennifer. I told her you’re being stalked and asked her to call me in case of trouble. Guess she took the job seriously.”
Michaela halted beside his SUV and faced him, hands on her hips. “I knew it! You had no right to go behind my back and scare the poor girl that way. And I’m not being stalked.”
He crossed his arms, biceps bulging, and said sternly, “Goldie, I’ll do anything I have to do to protect you. If I fibbed it wasn’t by much. Kohler might be following you. Now where would you like to eat?” He opened the passenger door and eyed her expectantly.
Her first impulse was to tell him she didn’t need his protection, but his mention of Andrew chilled her, raising gooseflesh. She glanced around but saw no sign of the Minnesotan. “I-I’d like to eat at home tonight,” she said, hastily climbing into the vehicle. “First, I’ll need a few things from the market.”
“Sounds good to me.” Taking his place behind the wheel, he followed her directions to the grocery store she preferred. Once there, he pushed a cart up and down the aisles while she picked out what she wanted. Later, when they arrived at her house, Dev carried in the grocery bags and helped her unpack them.
“I want to change into something comfortable. Would you mind starting the grill? It’s on the deck, outside the back door.” Standing in the kitchen doorway, she gestured down the hall behind her, toward the rear of the house.
“Sure. I’ll just bring in my stuff. Then I’ll get right on it.”
“Your stuff?”
“Yeah, my duffle bag. I checked out of the hotel where I’ve been staying.”
“What!” She gaped at him. “I never said you could move in here!”
He arched one dark blond brow. “I stayed here last night, remember? And you’re still in danger. Did you think that was only a one time thing?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I did.” Temper soaring, she stormed, “What makes you think you can move into my house without even asking my permission?”
“Dammit!” he shouted, making her jump. Hands splayed on the island, he scowled at her across it. “I promised Lara I’d keep you safe. She called me today, all worried about you, by the way. And by God, that’s a promise I mean to keep! With or without your permission. Is that clear?”
Cowed by his outburst, Michaela swallowed hard. “I’m going to change.” Whirling around, she dashed into the hall, hearing him mutter in a disgusted tone behind her. She couldn’t make out the words, probably just as well.
She changed into faded jeans, a loose tunic top and a pair of comfortable flats. Back downstairs, she spotted Dev’s black duffle bag sitting in the hall. Frowning, she followed the sound of movement into the kitchen and found him standing at the island, seasoning the butterflied pork chops she’d purchased at the market. He looked up when she entered.
“The grill is heating up. I found your spice rack. I’m doing a rub I learned from my mama. Hope you like it.” He smiled as if their furious exchange had never happened.
“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said warily, still annoyed by his invasion of her home but not wanting to set him off again.
“They need to sit for a little while,” he replied, turning to wash off his hands at the sink. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“You … you can open a bottle of wine if you want to. There’s a wine cooler in the pantry.” She pointed to a door at the back of the kitchen, off her small breakfast nook.
“What kind of wine do you want?”
“White Zinfandel, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’m not fussy, at least not about wine,” he said with a playful wink.
Wondering how he could flirt with her after nearly biting her head off minutes ago, she added, “You’ll find glasses in a rack above the cooler.” With that, she crossed to the fridge and gathered what she needed to round out their meal. Once a pan of seasoned potato wedges were ready to brown in the oven, she paused to sit with Dev on stools at the island and sip a glass of wine. Neither spoke at first.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said abruptly, slowly twirling his glass with his forearms resting on the granite island top. “I’m doing my best to keep you safe. I wish you would accept that.”
She hesitated, studying the pink blush wine in her own glass. “I’m sorry too. I know you’re trying to help me, but it’s hard to give up control of my life to another person.”
His broad, tan features softened with a smile. “I get that and I’d feel the same way in your place. Just be patient. With luck this will all be over soon.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed it lightly. “I’d better start the chops grilling.” He stood, picked up the meat tray and walked out to the deck.
Feeling somewhat better about the situation, she started the potatoes baking and rinsed off a bunch of fresh asparagus. Needing to wait a few minutes before steaming the vegetable, she walked quietly to the back door and peeked out the window. Dev stood at the grill, tending the chops. With him facing away from her, she had a perfect view of his broad back and tight butt.
Watching powerful muscles flex beneath his t-shirt and jeans, she imagined seeing him in the buff and touching all that hard male flesh. Then she thought how pleasant it was to have someone share the mundane task of preparing a meal. What would it be like to come home every night to him?
Don’t be an idiot! You don’t need him! Remember what happened the first time, the only time, you let a man into your life, into your heart. As if she could ever forget.
Keeping that thought firmly in mind, she strove for a cautiously sociable demeanor over dinner. It was difficult, however, with Dev seated across from her at her tiny kitchen table, with their knees occasionally bumping. He’d assured her they needn’t eat in the dining room. Now she wished she’d insisted upon it.
The wine she consumed further eroded her intention to maintain a safe distance between them. She’d never had a strong tolerance for alcohol. His funny stories about family and the men he worked with made her laugh and by the time she finished her second glass of white zin, she was feeling warm and pleasantly relaxed.
“I’ll clean up,” Dev said, pushing back his chair and collecting their plates.
“You don’t need to do that.” Jumping up, she tried to take the plates away from him.
He lifted them out of her reach, grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Here’s an idea, let’s do it together.”
She giggled at his antics. “Oh, all right.” Ridiculously light of heart, she helped him clear the table. Soon, they had the dishwasher going and the kitchen spic and span. Leading the way into the living room, she plopped into her fan back chair and watched Dev saunter over to the antique book cabinet where she kept her CDs.
“You’ve got quite a collection here,” he said, bending over to examine the rows of plastic sleeves. “Mostly jazz and big band, I see.”
“Yes, I love both. What about you?”
“I’m partial to jazz and certain big band tunes,” he replied, pulling out a CD and looking over the label. “Ever been to New Orleans?”
“Once, a long time ago.”
“Nothing beats the sounds of Bourbon Street,” he said, inserting a CD in the player.”
“I know, it’s amazing.” Hearing the notes of “I’m Glad There Is You” by Jimmy Dorsey and His Orchestra, she met Dev’s gaze as he walked toward her. “That’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.” He held out his hand to her. “Let’s dance.”
“Oh, I don’t think –”
“Come on, Goldie, don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared. I just –�
�
“Prove it,” he challenged, crooking his finger.
Pride drove her to her feet. Lifting her chin, she stepped close. He placed both hands at her waist. Her own hands went automatically to his shoulders.
“Relax, honey, and let the music take you away,” he murmured, gently swaying from side to side.
Captivated by his electric blue eyes, the music she loved and the warm essence of the man, she let him lead her in a leisurely waltz around the room. When the song ended, a faster tune began, not lending itself to slow dancing. Dev brought them to a halt.
“I’m going to kiss you, Goldie. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
His lips settled on hers, tasting, testing, luring her to respond. Opening her mouth, she allowed him in, touching her tongue to his. His arms tightened around her while hers circled his neck beneath his sensuous, shoulder-length hair. Her body suddenly felt ultra sensitive and needy. She pressed tightly against him, drawing a deep growl from his throat and sending his hands on a provocative journey over her back and bottom.
Michaela’s heart galloped in time to the throbbing swing melody booming from the CD player. Desire swelled like a tidal wave, flooding through her veins. She couldn’t remember ever being so attracted to a man. She wanted to escape into the world of pure physical abandon. She tore her mouth free.
“Do you have protection?” she gasped. She never took it for granted with any man.
“Yeah!” Breathing hard, face flushed, he looked as desperate as she was for what this evening had been building up to.
“Good. Come on.” She gripped his hand and led him upstairs to her room. They didn’t bother shutting the door. In a heated rush, they disrobed each other until they both stood naked.
“You’re magnificent!” Dev said hoarsely, holding her at arm’s length, hot gaze burning a path up and down her body.
“So are you,” she whispered. What she’d imagined earlier while staring at his clothed form couldn’t hold a candle to this impressive hunk of masculinity. He was perfection, broad of shoulder and chest, narrow at his waist and hips. His tan skin tone added to the glorious effect. He made her think of some battle-hardened warrior of old, always ready for war. At the moment, though, this warrior was primed for a different kind of battle.