could very well be in grave danger.
Whether she was a suspect, a material witness or simply a woman in jeopardy because she got mixed up with the wrong guy, Mac was duty bound to protect her.
Problem was, duty had nothing to do with his incessant need to stick close to her. He was plunging headfirst into personal involvement with a suspect. Something he never did.
But there didn’t appear to be a damned thing he could do about it this time. Some part of him was hell-bent on saving the woman, whether she wanted to be saved or not.
~*~
Elizabeth slept maybe two hours the entire night. Before sunrise she was pacing the floor. At six she’d forced herself to bake her Sunday favorite, blueberry muffins. And she’d made a strong pot of coffee. The way she felt at the moment it would take the entire pot to get her through the day. But she had to work. She simply had no choice.
She pulled on her jeans and a tee-shirt, rolled on a clean pair of socks and then slipped on her sneakers. Another cup of coffee and she’d be good to go.
She stilled, her gaze drawn to the front window. How was MacBride faring? She moved to the window and peeked around the edge of the curtain. He was still there. The driver’s-side window had been lowered to let in the cool morning air. As she watched, he scrubbed a hand over his face. She could just imagine how he felt. Exhausted. Hungry.
“Dammit.”
No matter how many times she told herself that her most recent problems were entirely his fault, she just couldn’t help feeling bad about him sitting out there in a cold car after having no sleep.
Admitting defeat, she filled a thermal to-go cup with coffee and wrapped a couple of muffins in a paper towel. The least she could do was feed him. He had, after all, spent the night watching over her. The thought had her experiencing more of that awareness she could no longer deny. She was sexually attracted to the man.
She groaned. What an idiot she was. Outright asking for trouble. Ignoring the alarm bells jangling in her head, she pulled on a jacket and marched out the door, down the steps and across the street. He caught sight of her before her sneakers hit the pavement and he was climbing out of the car.
“Is everything all right?” Those blue eyes surveyed her from head to toe.
Just like last night, she could feel his eyes roaming her body. And damned if he didn’t look even better with a night’s growth of beard shadowing that chiseled jaw. “Everything’s just peachy,” she lied, forcing the forbidden thoughts to the farthest recesses of her mind. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Actually he looked ravenous. But then, she hadn’t noticed that look in his eyes until after he’d given her the onceover. She scolded herself for allowing such a silly notion. Rich guys like MacBride didn’t bother with working girls like her. Well, working girls in the sense of blue-collar types. She’d been born into a blue-collar family and she was damned proud of it. Her short stint in the high-end design world hadn’t gone so well. She didn’t belong there.
“Thanks.” He reached for the cup. “I was having fantasies about coffee.”
She blinked away the fantasies she’d been having that had nothing to do with coffee. “It’s black. I didn’t know if you liked cream or sugar.”
“Black is perfect.” He had a taste and moaned. “That hit the spot.”
The sound of his satisfaction had her smiling and feeling entirely too warm. “Muffins.” She thrust the still-warm baked goods at him and chastised herself again for being a total schmuck.
He set the coffee on the roof of his car and reached for the muffins.
His fingers brushed hers and butterflies took flight in her belly. She needed to go, now . “I have to get to the job site.”
“On Sunday?”
Shoving her hands into her back pockets, she offered another of those careless shrugs. “Sometimes it’s necessary.” Unlike him, she had to really work for a living. Even
Whether she was a suspect, a material witness or simply a woman in jeopardy because she got mixed up with the wrong guy, Mac was duty bound to protect her.
Problem was, duty had nothing to do with his incessant need to stick close to her. He was plunging headfirst into personal involvement with a suspect. Something he never did.
But there didn’t appear to be a damned thing he could do about it this time. Some part of him was hell-bent on saving the woman, whether she wanted to be saved or not.
~*~
Elizabeth slept maybe two hours the entire night. Before sunrise she was pacing the floor. At six she’d forced herself to bake her Sunday favorite, blueberry muffins. And she’d made a strong pot of coffee. The way she felt at the moment it would take the entire pot to get her through the day. But she had to work. She simply had no choice.
She pulled on her jeans and a tee-shirt, rolled on a clean pair of socks and then slipped on her sneakers. Another cup of coffee and she’d be good to go.
She stilled, her gaze drawn to the front window. How was MacBride faring? She moved to the window and peeked around the edge of the curtain. He was still there. The driver’s-side window had been lowered to let in the cool morning air. As she watched, he scrubbed a hand over his face. She could just imagine how he felt. Exhausted. Hungry.
“Dammit.”
No matter how many times she told herself that her most recent problems were entirely his fault, she just couldn’t help feeling bad about him sitting out there in a cold car after having no sleep.
Admitting defeat, she filled a thermal to-go cup with coffee and wrapped a couple of muffins in a paper towel. The least she could do was feed him. He had, after all, spent the night watching over her. The thought had her experiencing more of that awareness she could no longer deny. She was sexually attracted to the man.
She groaned. What an idiot she was. Outright asking for trouble. Ignoring the alarm bells jangling in her head, she pulled on a jacket and marched out the door, down the steps and across the street. He caught sight of her before her sneakers hit the pavement and he was climbing out of the car.
“Is everything all right?” Those blue eyes surveyed her from head to toe.
Just like last night, she could feel his eyes roaming her body. And damned if he didn’t look even better with a night’s growth of beard shadowing that chiseled jaw. “Everything’s just peachy,” she lied, forcing the forbidden thoughts to the farthest recesses of her mind. “I thought you might be hungry.”
Actually he looked ravenous. But then, she hadn’t noticed that look in his eyes until after he’d given her the onceover. She scolded herself for allowing such a silly notion. Rich guys like MacBride didn’t bother with working girls like her. Well, working girls in the sense of blue-collar types. She’d been born into a blue-collar family and she was damned proud of it. Her short stint in the high-end design world hadn’t gone so well. She didn’t belong there.
“Thanks.” He reached for the cup. “I was having fantasies about coffee.”
She blinked away the fantasies she’d been having that had nothing to do with coffee. “It’s black. I didn’t know if you liked cream or sugar.”
“Black is perfect.” He had a taste and moaned. “That hit the spot.”
The sound of his satisfaction had her smiling and feeling entirely too warm. “Muffins.” She thrust the still-warm baked goods at him and chastised herself again for being a total schmuck.
He set the coffee on the roof of his car and reached for the muffins.
His fingers brushed hers and butterflies took flight in her belly. She needed to go, now . “I have to get to the job site.”
“On Sunday?”
Shoving her hands into her back pockets, she offered another of those careless shrugs. “Sometimes it’s necessary.” Unlike him, she had to really work for a living. Even
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