The rest of her threat was lost on Angie as she walked over to pick up the piece of paper Georgia had flung down on her desk. She quickly scanned the typewritten message.
If you know what's good for you, Mayor Hall, you'll change your mind on the city hall issue. If you don't stop fighting those of us who want the new building, your cat disappearing will be the least of your worries. I'll be watching, Mayor, and waiting. Don't disappoint me, or you'll be sorry. Because next time it might not be your car, or your yard, or your cat...
An acrid taste rose in her throat. "Spooky," she whispered, turning pale. Matt was right. Spooky had been snatched deliberately.
A low whistle sounded behind her. Todd had come up and was reading the note over her shoulder. "You think this is a joke?" he asked quietly. He took it from her hand, his eyes moving over it once more.
Angie thought of Spooky's body, lying limp and cold. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "No," she said tonelessly. "No joke." Her legs felt like rubber as she eased herself into her chair.
The room was deathly quiet. At any other time the sight of Georgia wringing her hands fretfully might have made Angie laugh. But laughter was the furthest thing from her mind.
The sudden rap on the door made her jump. She looked up to see Sam Nelson poke his head inside the door. "There you are," he boomed at Georgia. "Can't seem to stay away from this place, so I thought I'd..." His voice faded when he saw the somber faces of the three occupants.
Angie managed a halfhearted smile and waved him to a chair. "Just like old times, Sam. Seems we have a minor crisis on our hands."
"Minor!" Georgia gave her a withering look and hastened toward Sam, the letter in her hand. "Take a gander at this, Sam!"
Sam ran a hand over his chin when he'd finished reading it and looked across at Angie. "Considering all that's happened lately, I don't think I'd take this too lightly if I were you."
"Why do you think he says losing her cat will be the least of her worries?" Georgia asked him anxiously, standing at his side.
"It's obvious," Todd interjected bluntly. "It's a threat. Support the new building or else."
"A threat?" At that, a hot tide of anger suddenly surged through Angie. "Dammit, I'm not letting someone push me around over something as important as this!"
Todd shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Angie. I think Sam may be right. Whoever wrote this means business." His eyes met hers. "You'd better be careful."
The need for caution was the only thing the four of them could agree upon. When Todd left for an appointment fifteen minutes later, Georgia wasted no time in picking up the phone on Angie's desk.
"Who are you calling?" Angie asked suspiciously. She didn't like the utterly determined look on her assistant's face.
"Who do you think?" Georgia pushed her glasses up on her head. "Georgia Hendricks for Chief Richardson, please," she said crisply into the receiver.
Angie's arm shot out to break the connection, but Georgia snatched the phone up against her ample bosom and smiled smugly.
Angie didn't bother to listen to the brief conversation between her assistant and Matt. She was too busy fuming. "There's no need to bring Matt Richardson
into this," she said angrily when Georgia hung up. "Is there, Sam?"
Sam didn't have the chance to get a word in edgewise.
"No need!" Georgia's eyes fairly sparked. "I suppose if you got a bomb threat you'd sit back and do nothing, too! Sam, tell her this is serious!"
"Seems to me you're doing a pretty good job of it yourself." Sam patted her hand and smiled encouragingly up at her.
Smitten! The man was utterly smitten! It was clear to Angie she would get no help from his direction. "This is hardly as serious as a bomb threat," Angie tried to reason with Georgia.
Georgia propped her hands on her hips and gazed down her nose at Angie. "You and Matt Richardson may have had a lovers' tiff, but that doesn't change the fact that this is a matter for the police."
Lovers' tiff! Angie glanced at Sam, her cheeks reddening guiltily. "That's not the case at all," she muttered stiffly. "First of all, there's nothing at all going on between Matt Richardson and me."
Georgia's snort spoke far more eloquently than words. Sam cleared his throat and looked away.
Angie glared at her. "Second of all," she added firmly, "this letter is probably just—"
It was this scene that Matt walked into. "What's up?" he asked casually. "Georgia said it was urgent." He noticed Sam and nodded to him.
"Damn right it's urgent!" Georgia thrust the letter at him. "Feast your eyes on that!"
The letter in his hands, Matt eased himself onto a corner of Angie's desk. Only an arm's length away, Angie's heart began to do double duty. She'd put the moments spent in his arms firmly out of her mind, or so she thought until suddenly the memories came rushing back.
She couldn't stop her eyes from roving over him. He'd apparently come straight from his office and hadn't bothered to don his suit jacket. His tie was loosened, and at the sight of the springy dark hairs nestled at the base of his throat, she felt the urge to explore further inside his crisp white shirt. He'd rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, and his muscular forearms, liberally covered with the same dark hair, only enhanced his masculinity.
When her gaze moved reluctantly upward, the hard expression on his face put a halt to any further meandering of her mind.
"How and when did this arrive?" His eyes flashed among the three other occupants of the office.
It was Georgia who responded. "About half an hour ago. With the rest of the day's mail."
"Do you still have the envelope it came in?"
Georgia nodded and disappeared into the outer office. Returning, she told him, "It's postmarked yesterday. From here in town."
Matt nodded. He asked for a large manila envelope and slipped both the letter and its original envelope inside.
"Are you going to check for fingerprints?" Georgia cast an I-told-you-so look at Angie.
"We can try," Matt replied. "But the only way we can come up with anything is if we can get a good clear print and if it belongs to someone with an arrest record." He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "That might not be the case here."
"Oh." Georgia's face fell. "I thought you could tell just about anyone's."
"This is real life, not Hollywood," Sam injected dryly.
Matt echoed the sentiment. "Did anyone touch the letter besides the two of you?"
"Just Todd," Georgia replied.
"Todd Austin? The city manager?"
Angie nodded. "He was here when it arrived."
"We'll have to have the four of you stop by the lab then so we can differentiate between the prints."
Silence settled over the room for a moment, then Georgia anxiously questioned Matt and Sam. "What do you two think? Is Angie in any danger?"
The two men glanced at each other. It was Sam who responded first. "There's always a danger when you don't know who or what you're dealing with. This could be a crackpot, or it could be someone whose intent is deadly serious."
Matt nodded. "What happened to Angie's car and home certainly proves this person isn't entirely harmless. We can't afford to take any chances."
Both sounded anything but reassuring. "Hey," she protested in a rather feeble attempt at humor. "Are you guys trying to make me feel better or worse?"
Crossing his arms over his chest, Matt turned his head slightly to look at her. "I don't believe in sugarcoating the pill."
Her smile was weak. "In other words, better safe than sorry."
"My point exactly." Steadfast gray eyes gazed unerringly into hers. "That's why you can plan on having a shadow until we find out who's behind this whole thing."
His tone was so casual it took a few seconds before she grasped his full import. "Don't tell me," she said slowly, tapping a pencil on her desk. A faint note of disdain colored her voice. "You plan on posting someone outside my office. Something like that, I suppose."
&n
bsp; That dainty little nose tilting pertly toward the ceiling reminded him of the first day he'd been in this office with her. He grinned at the memory. "Something like that," he agreed mildly. One lean hip swiveled neatly on her desktop so that he faced her directly. "It won't do any harm to have someone hanging around your office. Nothing too conspicuous, of course."
Angie tried very hard to ignore the muscled stretch of his thigh poised next to her. To make matters worse, Matt looked very self-satisfied. And she didn't like that look—-at all.
"Sam," she implored, "this really isn't necessary, is it? I mean, if you were still chief..."
"But I'm not," Sam replied grimly. "Sorry, Angie, but if I were in Matt's place, I'd be doing exactly the same thing."
Angie sighed. She was beginning to feel as if a conspiracy was being mounted against her. "Next you'll want someone outside my house, too," she muttered irritably.
Matt's smile widened. "Not exactly," he admitted, then paused. "More like inside the house."
11 Inside the house!" She shot to her feet. "Dammit, Matt, I value my privacy too much to let a perfect stranger—regardless of the fact he might be one of your officers—inside my house. I... I'd feel like I was under house arrest!"
And well he knew it. She guarded her privacy, her person, her feelings, like a fortress made of steel. His smile vanished.
Georgia's head swiveled from Angie to Matt. Matt had risen by now and towered over Angie. Nonetheless, knowing her boss as she did, she wouldn't have cared to place bets on the outcome of this discussion. "Excuse me, I think I'd better get back to my desk," she muttered. "Sam?" Sam wasted no time in rising and accompanying her.
The door closed silently behind them. Neither Angie nor Matt seemed to notice the pair had left.
"We're not talking about a perfect stranger or one of my officers," he emphasized quietly. "We're talking about me." He waited silently for the explosion he knew was coming.
It came soon enough, in exactly the form he expected. Surprise flashed for a fraction of a second in her eyes. Then they began to blaze. "All right," she flung at him flatly. "You were right. You were right about everything—my tires, the vandalism in the yard and Spooky. Is that what you want to hear? I have absolute faith in your ability to do your job. You don't have to prove anything to me!"
"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he demanded.
She opened her mouth to deliver a vehement yes, but something in his expression made her reconsider. Matt's face was carved in harshly rigid lines, revealing the tough, hard side of him she'd always known lurked beneath the smooth exterior. A muscle worked tensely in his cheek, but she could have sworn there was a flash of hurt in his eyes.
She walked around her desk, feeling she needed to put some distance between them so that she could think
straight. She turned to face him when she reached the other side.
"Maybe not," she admitted reluctantly. She hesitated, groping for the right words. "But aren't you letting your personal feelings enter into this? If some other city official received a threatening letter, I don't think the long arm of the law, especially the police chief's arm, would extend all the way into his home."
"Probably not," he agreed. "But we're not talking about some other city official. We're talking about you, and I intend to make certain nothing else happens until we find out who's behind this." His gaze captured hers, and the intense warmth reflected there sent her senses clamoring wildly.
She turned aside before he could see the effect he had on her. There would be no arguing with him. Angie could see he was steadfastly determined, but thinking of the two of them together under one roof caused a flicker of unease to trace her spine. Matt had made no bones about his intentions, and it would be that much harder to keep him at arm's length—and that much easier to say yes to something she wasn't sure she could handle yet.
Still, she trusted Matt—at least as much as it was possible for her to trust any man. He wouldn't push her.
She hoped.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The evening wasn't quite the ordeal Angie had expected. Not wanting to alarm Kim and Casey, she decided against telling them about the note she'd received. But she did have to come up with a reason for Matt staying with them, so she finally said he was having some remodeling done on his house.
"I hope you don't mind," she told him in a low voice after the girls had left the dinner table. "I didn't want to upset them." She hesitated. "Kim is...well, she's rather sensitive. I hate to rock the boat too often where she's concerned."
He nodded his agreement. "There's no point in scaring them." He pensively watched Kim run upstairs. "She's not overly fond of men, is she?"
A grim smile touched her lips. "You've noticed?"
"It's hard not to." His response was dry, but his eyes were filled with compassion.
Angie instinctively found herself softening. "Kim likes you, though," she admitted.
"I'm glad." There was such warmth in his voice that Angie felt a painful twist in the region of her heart. Matt could be so good for them—for all of them. Kim, Casey and herself. But knowing that didn't erase the twinge of fear in her heart, the fear of letting someone that close again.
"Losing her father was hard on Kim, wasn't it?"
Angie's fingers tensed on her napkin before she nodded and dropped the wadded ball onto her plate. "Casey was only two when Evan died, so she doesn't really remember him," she said quietly. "But Kim was older, and she and Evan were very close. He was at home with her for well over a year."
His brows lifted. "A house husband?"
Angie slowly placed the dishes on the counter. "In a way," she admitted, then dropped her eyes before he could see the bitterness she was sure would be reflected there. In a minimum of words, she told him how Evan had lost his job at the bank, then briskly she began to gather the plates and cups.
Matt followed her to the kitchen, a soiled casserole dish in one hand, a salad bowl in the other. He placed them on the counter, another question about Evan poised on his lips. At the sight of Angie's closed expression, he knew the discussion was over—before it had even really begun. Silently he cursed. Dammit, did she trust him so little that she could share nothing of herself with him? She had no need to protect herself from him.
Protect. The thought was jarring. It was an odd word to use for a woman who had loved her husband so much. It was obvious her reluctance to become involved with him had something to do with Evan—she'd told him so, in fact—yet some sixth sense told him she was also afraid. He wanted to demand that she talk to him, tell him what was behind her fear. And he would have, if it hadn't been for that damn threatening letter. No, now was not the time to press her. Better to wait.
But he'd been waiting all his life for a woman like Angie, so long he'd begun to wonder if she even existed. He'd loved Linda, yes, but not like this, nothing like this. Each time he saw Angie, he felt something new, something different from any emotion he'd ever experienced. There was the strong Angie, strong in her weakness, so determined not to show him her vulnerability. That made her all the more vulnerable, all the more dear to his heart. And there was the woman Angie, all soft, tempting curves and pliant feminine warmth. He ached for her so much he woke up shaking in the night, his body taut and demanding, longing for the time he could express that love in the way God intended.
What hurt was knowing that she was capable of the very same powerful emotions that stirred his soul. It hurt even more to acknowledge that she wouldn't allow herself the slightest of intimacies with him. She wouldn't let herself care.
He heaved a frustrated sigh, his thoughts faintly colored by cynicism. For his whole life nothing had ever come easy. He'd hoped Angie might be the exception. But that was not to be.
"Matt?" He felt a tentative tug on his sleeve and looked down into Kim's narrow, upturned face. "Matt, will you play baseball with me?"
He glanced at Angie. "I really should help your mom with the dishes, Kim. Can you wait just a few mi
nutes?"
Angie was a little surprised by his generosity. Evan had never been a man to offer assistance with the housework. Catching him with a dishcloth, dust cloth or vacuum in his hand had been a rare occurrence, even while he'd been unemployed. Most times he'd left meal preparation and cleanup for her.
She waved away his offer and busied herself at the sink. "The dishwasher can handle the dishes, Matt. There's no need for you to stay inside and help." Belatedly it occurred to her she'd taken it for granted that he wouldn't mind playing with the girls. "Unless you've got something else you'd rather do," she added quickly over her shoulder.
He seemed to read her mind. "I like being with the kids, Angie." One dark brow quirked humorously. "And it isn't a way of trying to earn my way into their mother's good graces, either."
She swiped at the counter with the dishcloth, then turned to face him. "I know that," she told him softly, an even softer smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. Matt was not a man to pretend to emotions he didn't genuinely feel, emotions that came straight from the heart.
Yet the thought dismayed her as much as it filled her with a reluctant pleasure. Slowly but surely, Matt was tearing down all the barriers. Soon there would be nothing between them. Soon... In spite of the day's warmth, a sudden chill came over her. How would she feel when that day came?
An hour later, Matt called a halt to the horseplay going on in the backyard. Casey howled indignantly as he gave her a last push on the swing set. Kim frowned disappointedly and dropped her ball into her glove, but she didn't say anything.
Matt glanced between the two youngsters and pleaded, "Come on, ladies. Have a little mercy on a poor, crippled old man like me."
"Ladies?" Kim giggled.
Casey slid off the swing and ran up behind him. "How old are you?" she asked curiously.
Matt grinned, having no doubt about her reaction. "Thirty-eight."
"Thirty-eight!" she echoed. "Even Mommy's not that old," she mused with childlike candor. Then she boasted, "I'm gonna be five pretty soon."
"You are?" Matt smothered a laugh as her small chest puffed out proudly. "When?"
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