stalker that raised goose bumps along her soft skin. “We’re still in the process of gathering facts to see if we need to launch an investigation. Thanks, Kate.”
“Anytime. Stay safe, Miss Brown. Goodbye, everyone.”
With Elise’s distracted focus turned down to the screen of her laptop, George reached across the desk to disconnect the call himself.
The shadows under her pretty blue eyes indicated the restless sleep she’d had. Even though George had spent the night on the couch in the construction zone of her living room to offer some degree of security, and she’d had that pint-size guard dog upstairs to keep her company, Elise’s bed had rattled overhead as she’d tossed and turned. And when she couldn’t fight her troubled thoughts any longer, she’d gotten up and turned on lights and spent an hour or more opening closets and drawers and moving things around in muffled noises that sounded suspiciously like cleaning house...or taking inventory to make sure nothing else had been touched or taken by the intruder.
Fueled by the aching frustration in his gut, George had lain awake most of the night, too, deciding exactly what he should do to help. Elise’s problem wasn’t something he could fix by writing a report, negotiating a compromise or issuing a statement.
This was old-school. She needed someone to stand between her and the nut job who was stalking her. She needed a man in her life. A bodyguard. She needed a cop.
More than anything—more than he should—George wanted to be that man.
But his years behind a desk had made him soft. Sure, he passed all his physicals and kept in shape, but when was the last time he’d run after a perp and taken him down? He’d grown more cerebral, less instinctive. The sidearm he’d strapped onto his belt this morning felt heavy against his hip. He hadn’t taken the lead on an investigation since he’d left the Narcotics division. He was used to giving the orders, letting his team make things happen while he watched the budget, supplied the equipment and approved the manpower they needed to do their job.
Elise’s intelligence, caring patience and endless legs gave a man plenty to notice and appreciate. But there was something more than the dark caramel hair and undeniable efficiency that had gotten beneath his hardened exterior. For years he hadn’t cared about anyone on this gut-deep level. He loved his sister and her family. He cared about Courtney being happy. But he hadn’t wanted anything like this for himself for a long time. There was a vulnerability about Elise Brown that had awakened some basic primal need in him. He hadn’t even thought about falling in love again, about being with a woman for something more than companionship. But Elise had him thinking.
That forbidden kiss.
Those tight embraces.
I need you.
What was he supposed to make of a woman who called him with a panicked request like that and clung to him like a second skin, yet pushed him away and quoted departmental protocol if he overstepped the lines of friendly concern or, God forbid, tried to get ahead of the slimy psychopath who’d made her so afraid?
George’s chest expanded with a deep breath. Being a frontline cop wasn’t the only skill that had gone rusty on him. Elise’s fingers were moving over her keyboard again, and she seemed completely oblivious to his assessing gaze and uncharacteristic introspection.
“Uncle George?” Startled from his thoughts by his nephew’s voice, George reached up to massage the tension beneath his collar before slowly turning, masking any reaction. Nick had pulled out his notebook and pen, ready to work. And if that was suspicion narrowing the blue eyes that looked so like his sister’s, it had better be aimed at finding answers for Elise, not reading anything into George’s long silence. “I said, do we have any suspects?”
Propping his hip on the edge of his desk, George turned his attention to the family he’d called in for
“Anytime. Stay safe, Miss Brown. Goodbye, everyone.”
With Elise’s distracted focus turned down to the screen of her laptop, George reached across the desk to disconnect the call himself.
The shadows under her pretty blue eyes indicated the restless sleep she’d had. Even though George had spent the night on the couch in the construction zone of her living room to offer some degree of security, and she’d had that pint-size guard dog upstairs to keep her company, Elise’s bed had rattled overhead as she’d tossed and turned. And when she couldn’t fight her troubled thoughts any longer, she’d gotten up and turned on lights and spent an hour or more opening closets and drawers and moving things around in muffled noises that sounded suspiciously like cleaning house...or taking inventory to make sure nothing else had been touched or taken by the intruder.
Fueled by the aching frustration in his gut, George had lain awake most of the night, too, deciding exactly what he should do to help. Elise’s problem wasn’t something he could fix by writing a report, negotiating a compromise or issuing a statement.
This was old-school. She needed someone to stand between her and the nut job who was stalking her. She needed a man in her life. A bodyguard. She needed a cop.
More than anything—more than he should—George wanted to be that man.
But his years behind a desk had made him soft. Sure, he passed all his physicals and kept in shape, but when was the last time he’d run after a perp and taken him down? He’d grown more cerebral, less instinctive. The sidearm he’d strapped onto his belt this morning felt heavy against his hip. He hadn’t taken the lead on an investigation since he’d left the Narcotics division. He was used to giving the orders, letting his team make things happen while he watched the budget, supplied the equipment and approved the manpower they needed to do their job.
Elise’s intelligence, caring patience and endless legs gave a man plenty to notice and appreciate. But there was something more than the dark caramel hair and undeniable efficiency that had gotten beneath his hardened exterior. For years he hadn’t cared about anyone on this gut-deep level. He loved his sister and her family. He cared about Courtney being happy. But he hadn’t wanted anything like this for himself for a long time. There was a vulnerability about Elise Brown that had awakened some basic primal need in him. He hadn’t even thought about falling in love again, about being with a woman for something more than companionship. But Elise had him thinking.
That forbidden kiss.
Those tight embraces.
I need you.
What was he supposed to make of a woman who called him with a panicked request like that and clung to him like a second skin, yet pushed him away and quoted departmental protocol if he overstepped the lines of friendly concern or, God forbid, tried to get ahead of the slimy psychopath who’d made her so afraid?
George’s chest expanded with a deep breath. Being a frontline cop wasn’t the only skill that had gone rusty on him. Elise’s fingers were moving over her keyboard again, and she seemed completely oblivious to his assessing gaze and uncharacteristic introspection.
“Uncle George?” Startled from his thoughts by his nephew’s voice, George reached up to massage the tension beneath his collar before slowly turning, masking any reaction. Nick had pulled out his notebook and pen, ready to work. And if that was suspicion narrowing the blue eyes that looked so like his sister’s, it had better be aimed at finding answers for Elise, not reading anything into George’s long silence. “I said, do we have any suspects?”
Propping his hip on the edge of his desk, George turned his attention to the family he’d called in for
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