Belonging (22 page)

"We'll have to have the four of you stop by
the lab then so we can differentiate between the prints."

Silence settled over the room for a moment,
then Georgia anxiously questioned Matt and Sam. "What do you two
think? Is Angie in any danger?"

The two men glanced at each other. It was Sam
who responded first. "There's always a danger when you don't know
who or what you're dealing with. This could be a crackpot, or it
could be someone whose intent is deadly serious."

Matt nodded. "What happened to Angie's car
and home certainly proves this person isn't entirely harmless. We
can't afford to take any chances."

Both sounded anything but reassuring. "Hey,"
she protested in a rather feeble attempt at humor. "Are you guys
trying to make me feel better or worse?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Matt turned
his head slightly to look at her. "I don't believe in sugarcoating
the pill."

Her smile was weak. "In other words, better
safe than sorry."

"My point exactly." Steadfast gray eyes gazed
unerringly into hers. "That's why you can plan on having a shadow
until we find out who's behind this whole thing."

His tone was so casual it took a few seconds
before she grasped his full import. "Don't tell me," she said
slowly, tapping a pencil on her desk. A faint note of disdain
colored her voice. "You plan on posting someone outside my office.
Something like that, I suppose."

That dainty little nose tilting pertly toward
the ceiling reminded him of the first day he'd been in this
office with her. He grinned at the memory. "Something like that,"
he agreed mildly. One lean hip swiveled neatly on her desktop so
that he faced her directly. "It won't do any harm to have someone
hanging around your office. Nothing too conspicuous, of
course."

Angie tried very hard to ignore the muscled
stretch of his thigh poised next to her. To make matters worse,
Matt looked very self-satisfied. And she didn't like that look—-at
all.

"Sam," she implored, "this really isn't
necessary, is it? I mean, if you were still chief..."

"But I'm not," Sam replied grimly. "Sorry,
Angie, but if I were in Matt's place, I'd be doing exactly the same
thing."

Angie sighed. She was beginning to feel as if
a conspiracy was being mounted against her. "Next you'll want
someone outside my house, too," she muttered irritably.

Matt's smile widened. "Not exactly," he
admitted, then paused. "More like inside the house."

¹¹
Inside the house!" She shot to
her feet. "Dammit, Matt, I value my privacy too much to let a
perfect stranger—regardless of the fact he might be one of your
officers—inside my house. I... I'd feel like I was under house
arrest!"

And well he knew it. She guarded her privacy,
her person, her feelings, like a fortress made of steel. His smile
vanished.

Georgia's head swiveled from Angie to Matt.
Matt had risen by now and towered over Angie. Nonetheless, knowing
her boss as she did, she wouldn't have cared to place bets on the
outcome of this discussion. "Excuse me, I think I'd better get back
to my desk," she muttered. "Sam?" Sam wasted no time in rising and
accompanying her.

The door closed silently behind them. Neither
Angie nor Matt seemed to notice the pair had left.

"We're not talking about a perfect stranger
or one of my officers," he emphasized quietly. "We're talking
about me." He waited silently for the explosion he knew was
coming.

It came soon enough, in exactly the form he
expected. Surprise flashed for a fraction of a second in her eyes.
Then they began to blaze. "All right," she flung at him flatly.
"You were right. You were right about everything—my tires, the
vandalism in the yard and Spooky. Is that what you want to hear? I
have absolute faith in your ability to do your job. You don't have
to prove anything to me!"

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" he
demanded.

She opened her mouth to deliver a vehement
yes, but something in his expression made her reconsider. Matt's
face was carved in harshly rigid lines, revealing the tough, hard
side of him she'd always known lurked beneath the smooth exterior.
A muscle worked tensely in his cheek, but she could have sworn
there was a flash of hurt in his eyes.

She walked around her desk, feeling she
needed to put some distance between them so that she could
think

straight. She turned to face him when she
reached the other side.

"Maybe not," she admitted reluctantly. She
hesitated, groping for the right words. "But aren't you letting
your personal feelings enter into this? If some other city official
received a threatening letter, I don't think the long arm of the
law, especially the police chief's arm, would extend all the way
into his home."

"Probably not," he agreed. "But we're not
talking about some other city official. We're talking about you,
and I intend to make certain nothing else happens until we find
out who's behind this." His gaze captured hers, and the intense
warmth reflected there sent her senses clamoring wildly.

She turned aside before he could see the
effect he had on her. There would be no arguing with him. Angie
could see he was steadfastly determined, but thinking of the two of
them together under one roof caused a flicker of unease to trace
her spine. Matt had made no bones about his intentions, and it
would be that much harder to keep him at arm's length—and that much
easier to say yes to something she wasn't sure she could handle
yet.

Still, she trusted Matt—at least as much as
it was possible for her to trust any man. He wouldn't push her.

She hoped.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The evening wasn't quite the ordeal Angie had
expected. Not wanting to alarm Kim and Casey, she decided against
telling them about the note she'd received. But she did have to
come up with a reason for Matt staying with them, so she finally
said he was having some remodeling done on his house.

"I hope you don't mind," she told him in a
low voice after the girls had left the dinner table. "I didn't want
to upset them." She hesitated. "Kim is...well, she's rather
sensitive. I hate to rock the boat too often where she's
concerned."

He nodded his agreement. "There's no point in
scaring them." He pensively watched Kim run upstairs. "She's not
overly fond of men, is she?"

A grim smile touched her lips. "You've
noticed?"

"It's hard not to." His response was dry, but
his eyes were filled with compassion.

Angie instinctively found herself softening.
"Kim likes you, though," she admitted.

"I'm glad." There was such warmth in his
voice that Angie felt a painful twist in the region of her heart.
Matt could be so good for them—for all of them. Kim, Casey and
herself. But knowing that didn't erase the twinge of fear in her
heart, the fear of letting someone that close again.

"Losing her father was hard on Kim, wasn't
it?"

Angie's fingers tensed on her napkin before
she nodded and dropped the wadded ball onto her plate. "Casey was
only two when Evan died, so she doesn't really remember him," she
said quietly. "But Kim was older, and she and Evan were very close.
He was at home with her for well over a year."

His brows lifted. "A house husband?"

Angie slowly placed the dishes on the
counter. "In a way," she admitted, then dropped her eyes before he
could see the bitterness she was sure would be reflected there. In
a minimum of words, she told him how Evan had lost his job at the
bank, then briskly she began to gather the plates and cups.

Matt followed her to the kitchen, a soiled
casserole dish in one hand, a salad bowl in the other. He placed
them on the counter, another question about Evan poised on his
lips. At the sight of Angie's closed expression, he knew the
discussion was over—before it had even really begun. Silently he
cursed. Dammit, did she trust him so little that she could share
nothing of herself with him? She had no need to protect herself
from him.

Protect. The thought was jarring. It was an
odd word to use for a woman who had loved her husband so much. It
was obvious her reluctance to become involved with him had
something to do with Evan—she'd told him so, in fact—yet some sixth
sense told him she was also afraid. He wanted to demand that she
talk to him, tell him what was behind her fear. And he would have,
if it hadn't been for that damn threatening letter. No, now was
not the time to press her. Better to wait.

But he'd been waiting all his life for a
woman like Angie, so long he'd begun to wonder if she even
existed. He'd loved Linda, yes, but not like this, nothing like
this. Each time he saw Angie, he felt something new, something
different from any emotion he'd ever experienced. There was the
strong Angie, strong in her weakness, so determined not to show him
her vulnerability. That made her all the more vulnerable, all the
more dear to his heart. And there was the woman Angie, all soft,
tempting curves and pliant feminine warmth. He ached for her so
much he woke up shaking in the night, his body taut and demanding,
longing for the time he could express that love in the way God
intended.

What hurt was knowing that she was capable of
the very same powerful emotions that stirred his soul. It hurt even
more to acknowledge that she wouldn't allow herself the slightest
of intimacies with him. She wouldn't let herself care.

He heaved a frustrated sigh, his thoughts
faintly colored by cynicism. For his whole life nothing had ever
come easy. He'd hoped Angie might be the exception. But that was
not to be.

"Matt?" He felt a tentative tug on his sleeve
and looked down into Kim's narrow, upturned face. "Matt, will you
play baseball with me?"

He glanced at Angie. "I really should help
your mom with the dishes, Kim. Can you wait just a few
minutes?"

Angie was a little surprised by his
generosity. Evan had never been a man to offer assistance with the
housework. Catching him with a dishcloth, dust cloth or vacuum in
his hand had been a rare occurrence, even while he'd been
unemployed. Most times he'd left meal preparation and cleanup for
her.

She waved away his offer and busied herself
at the sink. "The dishwasher can handle the dishes, Matt. There's
no need for you to stay inside and help." Belatedly it occurred to
her she'd taken it for granted that he wouldn't mind playing with
the girls. "Unless you've got something else you'd rather do," she
added quickly over her shoulder.

He seemed to read her mind. "I like being
with the kids, Angie." One dark brow quirked humorously. "And it
isn't a way of trying to earn my way into their mother's good
graces, either."

She swiped at the counter with the dishcloth,
then turned to face him. "I know that," she told him softly, an
even softer smile hinting at the corners of her mouth. Matt was not
a man to pretend to emotions he didn't genuinely feel, emotions
that came straight from the heart.

Yet the thought dismayed her as much as it
filled her with a reluctant pleasure. Slowly but surely, Matt was
tearing down all the barriers. Soon there would be nothing between
them. Soon... In spite of the day's warmth, a sudden chill came
over her. How would she feel when that day came?

An hour later, Matt called a halt to the
horseplay going on in the backyard. Casey howled indignantly as
he gave her a last push on the swing set. Kim frowned
disappointedly and dropped her ball into her glove, but she didn't
say anything.

Matt glanced between the two youngsters and
pleaded, "Come on, ladies. Have a little mercy on a poor, crippled
old man like me."

"Ladies?" Kim giggled.

Casey slid off the swing and ran up behind
him. "How old are you?" she asked curiously.

Matt grinned, having no doubt about her
reaction. "Thirty-eight."

"Thirty-eight!" she echoed. "Even Mommy's not
that old," she mused with childlike candor. Then she boasted, "I'm
gonna be five pretty soon."

"You are?" Matt smothered a laugh as her
small chest puffed out proudly. "When?"

"On my birthday!" The child looked at him as
if he'd suddenly lost his mind before skipping into the house. Ask
a stupid question, he thought to himself wryly.

"Her birthday's in September," Kim offered.
"Mine's in April."

"Is it? So is mine." His eyes softened as he
looked down at Kim. Casey had her mother's coloring, but Kim's
poignant air of vulnerability reminded him so damn much of Angie
and her reaction to him—and it tugged at his heartstrings almost as
much. "We'll have to celebrate together next year, won't we?"

She responded with a timid smile, then bit
her lip and hung her head. She looked so pitifully uncertain that
Matt dropped down on one knee beside her. "What is it, Kim?" he
encouraged gently. "What's wrong?"

The tip of one sneaker toed the ground
repeatedly before she finally looked up hesitantly. "Do you like my
mommy?"

Both the question and the solemnly intent
expression on Kim's face took him by surprise. He was on the verge
of frowning when he realized she might take it the wrong way. Like
her? Good Lord, he loved her.

His voice was curiously unsteady. "Yes, Kim.
I like her... I like her very much." There was a brief pause while
he took one small hand in his. He half expected Kim to draw away,
but she didn't. "Do you mind?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I... I like you, too,"
she confessed shyly. "Lots better than Todd." She smiled timidly,
but a troubled look appeared in her eyes once more. "You won't hurt
my mommy, will you?"

His answering smile faded as he felt her
fingers tremble in his. Her anxious whisper tore into his heart,
even while he wondered why on earth a child of eight would ask such
a question. Yet somehow he sensed that his answer was somehow
vitally important to Kim.