Catch a Mate by Gena Showalter Page B

the middle of the night?”
    Instead of giving her the same answer she’d given Brent, Jillian said, “Here’s a better question—why do you always call me in the middle of the night after she’s called you?”
    â€œWell, duh. If I have to suffer, so do you. So what are we going to do about Mom?”
    â€œLet’s buy her a cat.”
    â€œShe’s allergic, silly.”
    Sighing, Jillian gazed through the slit between the beige curtains draping the bedroom’s only window and out at the moonlit night, soaking in the gently swaying trees. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.” Brent and Brittany got to hear about the problems and Jillian got to fix them. At least it would take her mind off Marcus.
    She hoped.
    Â 
    B ACK AT HIS APARTMENT , Marcus sat in his recliner, staring at his magnificent poker table—the felt was the color of money and the base was intricately carved, high-glossed maple. It was his altar. His place of worship.
    He glanced over at his weights and the boxes scattered across the living-room floor, each one filled with his stuff. Clothing, dishes and basically everything he needed to survive. He hadn’t unpacked yet, though he’d had several weeks. He didn’t think he would for several more. He’d been too busy trying to buy CAM and now he was too busy trying to make it a success. Not to mention, too busy annoying Jillian.
    He should call her again.
    He frowned. No, he shouldn’t. He’d acted unprofessional all night, which was very unlike him, and it was time to put a stop to it. He blamed Jillian. He needed to stay away from her. Far, far away. That woman irritated and excited him on levels he’d never experienced before. Every time he was near her or heard her voice or thought about her, he became primed.
    He needed her gone, out of the company. But…
    She’d made him laugh. She’d gotten the better of him. He wanted her to get the better of him again.
    Shit. Frustrated, he tangled a hand through his hair. Yes, he needed her gone, but if she went to another agency he wouldn’t be able to control her assignments. Annoying as she was, the woman needed a protector. One day she was going to piss off some poor sap and the poor sap was going to snap, hurting her. At least Marcus could keep an eye on her if she worked for him.
    When Darren had grabbed Jillian’s arm to keep her in place, Marcus had nearly broken the man’s nose. Of course, that wouldn’t have been painful enough, so he then would have ripped off the man’s arms and legs and beaten him over the head with them. But Jillian had shoved Mace in the guy’s face before Marcus could make a move and all had ended well.
    But what if it hadn’t? Jillian could have been hurt, beaten. That was enough to make him sick to his stomach. Women were cheaters by nature, but they didn’t deserve physical pain.
    He’d never worried about female bait before, but he was worried now. Jillian was such a delicate little thing—okay, she was average height and probably packed a punch like a linebacker. She was self-reliant, tough and fearless. Still. Men were stronger. The fact that Jillian and the other female bait usually went on assignments alone, placing themselves in the line of fire without any true means of escape, froze his blood and he vowed then and there to make sure it never happened again.
    Of all of them, Jillian would need the most protection. He didn’t need a reason for that assessment, he just wanted it to be true. She had an appeal that drew all kinds of immoral attention. Just sitting at the bar, he’d watched man after horny man scope her out and contemplate making a play for her. She’d looked aloof, untouchable, yet still utterly willing to try any sexual act suggested, the more depraved the better.
    He himself had wanted to do wicked things to her. Wild things. Illegal in thirty-two states