Out of Control by Shannon McKenna Page A

“Sorry,” he said. “I can’t seem to help looking at you. I find you…interesting.”
    She looked wary, but her lips twitched. “Interesting, huh? That’s one of those sneaky, double-edged words. Interesting how? Interesting like flesh-eating bacteria? Interesting like something out of The X-Files ?”
    â€œLet me pick another word,” he said smoothly. “Fascinating.”
    She snorted. “Oh, get out of town. Fascinating, my butt.”
    â€œThat, too,” he said, before he could stop himself.
    She muffled a crack of laughter behind her hands. “Look who’s trying to be cute. Hang on to your day job, McCloud. You weren’t cut out to be a comedian.”
    He was pleased to have made her laugh, even if it took making an ass of himself. “Please call me Davy.”
    â€œDavy.” She said the word slowly, like she was tasting it.
    He reached across the table and took her cool, slender hand in his. “You want to talk, Margot? I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
    She hesitated, mouth trembling, and slowly pulled her hand away. “No. Not now. It’s a long story, and I’m late for work.” Her voice turned brisk. “I dragged you out of bed at an ungodly hour—”
    â€œI get up early anyhow,” he assured her.
    â€œI really appreciate the moral support, but if you’ve got things to do, you don’t have to hang around here. I’m past the worst of it. Now I just have to get on with my day somehow.”
    He could’ve howled with frustration. She’d been so close to talking. “We could go someplace and get some breakfast,” he said.
    She flinched at the mention of food. “God, no. I’ve got to clean that blood up somehow, and get Mikey to the kennel, and see if I can get to work in time to salvage my job, so maybe you should just—”
    â€œI know a good cleaning service that can take care of your porch,” he offered. “And I’ve got a friend at an independent crime lab. I’ll take a sample of that blood to be analyzed. You don’t know who or what it’s from. Don’t handle it yourself. Let professionals deal with it.”
    She looked doubtful. “I don’t think I should have to handle it either, but I can’t afford the luxury of—”
    â€œThey’re my friends,” he insisted. “They’ll cut me a deal.”
    Her eyes were full of wary confusion. “Don’t, Davy,” she said softly. “It’s sweet of you, but…just let it be. I’ll take care of it when I get back.” She stopped whatever else she was going to say, shook her head and scurried into her bedroom.
    He headed out to the porch and stared at the dark, glistening pool. He wasn’t great with blood. He could handle it if forced to, but it made him queasy and depressed, stirring memories he really didn’t want to unearth. He forced himself to concentrate as he scraped a sticky flake of the blood into a plastic bag with the point of his knife.
    When he came back into the kitchen, she was dressed in a dowdy blue waitressing uniform, somehow managing to look sharp and sexy in it. Her hair was twisted up into a spiky fountain of dull brown wisps.
    She pulled a set of purple spandex workout gear off the drying rack in the kitchen, shoved them into her gym bag and pulled open the door. She jerked her chin for him to precede her out.
    â€œWill you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked, as she followed him out. “We can do Thai, or sushi. You’ll be hungry by then for sure.”
    A reluctant smile curved her soft mouth. “You’re slick, McCloud.”
    â€œCall me—”
    â€œYeah, OK. Davy. But tonight’s not good. I’ve got a lot to deal with. As you well know.” She locked the door and marched down the steps, head high, back straight. Her moment of weakness was definitively over.
    He tried