Protecting the Pregnant Witness by Julie Miller Page A

responsibility. I’m not looking for a handyman, either.”
    Rafe pushed to his feet, catching her arm and turning her to face him, stopping her in the middle of kicking off her shoes. “No arguments on this, Jose. Your anonymity’s a thing of the past. Montgomery may think keeping a low profile and all your dad’s friends at the Shamrock are enough to keep you safe from that bastard, but I’ve seen what the guy can do. He’s a damn chameleon. Like today at the hospital. You don’t even know he’s there until it’s too late.” He threaded his fingers into the sable-colored silk of her ponytail where it fell over her shoulder, and let just a little of his own frustration and fear bubble to the surface. “I can’t handle too late with you.”
    “Because of the promise you made to Dad?” Reaching up, she cupped her hand against the pulse beating alongside his jaw, the gentleness of the gesture warming his skin, soothing his pain, making him wish he could give her what she needed. “You made that promise to my father when I was fifteen years old, Rafe. I’m a grown woman now. Isn’t there any promise you want to make to me?”
    The back of his knuckles brushed over the swell of a small breast that was firmer, fuller than he remembered. “I promise to keep you safe.”
    Her lips parted and her breath caught on a barely audible gasp when he couldn’t help but repeat the caress. Her blue eyes tilted toward his. “And the baby?”
    “Yeah. That, too.”
    “That? It? We created a human being, Rafe, not a thing. I can’t imagine what you must have endured growing up that makes you so afraid of caring.” Her eyes sparkled with a hint of moisture, but her posture rebuffed the impulse to pull her into his arms to deny the accusation and console her big heart. Rafe buried the urge to hold her altogether when she tugged her hair from his fingers and tossed her ponytail behind her back. She gave him a slight shove to push him out into the living room and close the door between them. “Give me a couple of minutes to change and then you can drive me to the Shamrock.”
    Rafe stood there as the door closed in his face. He wanted nothing more than to push it back open and either hash it out with Josie or haul her into his arms and kiss her until this raging frustration left his system and he could get back to being the man who’d once joked so easily with her, the man who was welcome to take her hand or touch her hair or lend some help or just spend a quiet evening in the peace and acceptance and joie de vivre that was Josie Nichols.
    He shot his fingers through his hair with a curse and paced across the tiny apartment. Yeah, like that was going to happen. He’d betrayed his word to Aaron and messed up what he had with Josie the night he’d slept with her.
    But he’d been so raw with Calvin Chambers’s death, so riddled with guilt. So damn helpless when he’d devoted his life to fixing what was wrong in the world and saving people. That could have been him a lifetime ago—a wounded child, helpless and friendless—in so much pain, yet filled with a futile hope. Rafe had hurt so bad that night and he’d turned to Josie. The person who knew him best. His friend. His solace.
    Now he’d given her the burden of a baby. Another child he was afraid to get attached to, afraid he’d fail. Then there was this damn murder, and Josie had had the dumb luck to be the one person who could identify the man KCPD had been tracking for two years. She shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.
    He had so much to atone for. So much to make right. So much he needed, but couldn’t have and shouldn’t want—and it was all back there, behind that closed bedroom door.
    Rafe stopped in his tracks, braced his hands on his hips and tilted his head back, venting his frustration to the ceiling. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do, Aaron.”
    The walls in Josie’s apartment were so thin that even though he tried to politely tune out the