Safe in His Sight (9 page)

“Sure.” Mitch suppressed the chuckle. The woman appreciated a good routine. He could respect it, since repeated training and drills kept a firefighter sharp.

She packed up in record time while he straightened the area where he’d been sleeping and stuffed the belongings he’d brought over back into his duffel. Still, she hesitated at the door. “I want to argue,” she admitted. “I feel like moving is admitting defeat.”

“Nothing of the kind,” Mitch replied. “We’re changing the rules midgame to work in our favor. It’s time your stalker learned he doesn’t have all the control.”

She gazed up at him, her chin angled and her eyes sparking with more of the familiar fight. “That’s an excellent assessment. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He meant to reach for her bags and found his hands sliding around her waist. She’d changed into trim jeans and a silky cream-colored sweater his callused hands would probably ruin.

He gave her time to turn away, to stop him as he lowered his lips to hers. She didn’t. All those chaste, brief kisses evaporated in a flash of heat. He sank into the textures and flavor of her generous mouth as his tongue curled around hers. She pressed her lush curves to his body, her hands digging into his shoulders, and her eager response stole his breath.

The kiss surpassed every fantasy he’d woven around her in recent days. His heart pounded against his rib cage, confirmation this hot and tender contact was absolutely real. Pushing a hand into that amazing hair, he angled her head and took them deeper still.

Every need he hadn’t known was essential to his life was right here in his arms. The new awareness rocked him back and he stared down into her dazzled face. Her lips, fuller after the kiss, drew him in for one more swift taste. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in sexy, shallow pants.
Good. That made two of them.

“We should, um...” Her gaze darted to the bed, then quickly back to the door. “Grant is expecting us, right?”

“Right.” He gathered the bags and ushered her out into the hallway. “We’ll grab dinner there, too.”

“Okay.”

She sounded dazed again, and he felt better, knowing that kiss had given her a much better reason than fear.

Kissing her hadn’t been a planned tactic, but it had been an effective restorative for both of them. Whenever he looked her way at the club tonight, he’d know that rosy color in her cheeks was because of him. He felt strong once more, capable of sheltering her from any harm.

Chapter 7

F
or more than four hours, Julia hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss. The happy flutter in her pulse was new. The soft, wistful sigh that occurred when she pressed her lips together annoyed her. There were far more important things to think about, yet she couldn’t quite push Mitch—and that stunning kiss—out of her mind.

She’d caught herself wandering out to the bar to check on him, just to know he was here, in one piece. He’d caught her peeking around the corner more than once. She’d seen the evidence in the cocky tilt of his lips. Lips she wanted to kiss again.

Analyzing that moment, comparing that kiss to the others in her experience hadn’t helped a bit. The exercise had sent her pulse into overdrive, repeatedly. She knew she couldn’t keep her balance or perspective around Mitch if they detoured into intimate behavior, but she had yet to effectively convince herself to tell him they couldn’t have an encore.

She wanted that encore far more than she should. Reaching back, she pulled the tie from her hair and shook it out, massaging her scalp. She had to remember she was all wrong for him, despite the unbelievable chemistry between them.

“Knock, knock,” Grant said, pausing in the office doorway. “Making any progress?”

“I wish,” she confessed. “Without my laptop or phone, there isn’t much for me to do.”

“But without your laptop or phone, the stalker can’t bother you,” Grant pointed out.

“He can’t tell me he’s bothering me anyway,” she corrected him.

Upon arriving at the club, they’d walked Grant through every step of the evening from the power outage to Officer Conway’s arrest of the stalker’s friends. They suspected the stalker managed to interfere with the messages she’d tried to leave Mitch as the situation unfolded. “I wish we knew a name so we could call in an anonymous tip,” she said. “We know he’s responsible for the bomb threat at Marburg.”

“We assume he’s responsible,” Grant corrected. “Jumping to conclusions could make things worse.” He shifted to lean the other shoulder on the opposite side of the door frame, still not coming into the office. “Mitch caught a good look at him this afternoon. Had a conversation, too.”

Julia sat up straighter in her chair. “He didn’t mention that to me.”

“I expect he was more than a little distracted when he found you.”

“True. Do we have a lead?”

“I’m working on it. Mitch will meet with a sketch artist tomorrow.”

“Great.” Even small steps forward were reassuring. Had everything been a ruse to kidnap her or to get into the building? She could make a case for either theory. The mounting, unanswered questions plagued her. Why was she a target? “I need to
do
something,” she said.

“I’ll find something to keep you busy,” Grant replied. “First, walk me through it once more.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you heard something new?”

Grant shrugged. “Not yet. Being retired means the information flows a little slower than it used to. Go on.”

Although she didn’t see how it helped anything, she relayed the story one more time, answering Grant’s more detailed questions about the fake policemen. Hopefully, his instincts would lead to something that helped identify or catch the stalker making her life miserable. When she finished, Grant walked over to the desk and handed her a tablet. “Do me a favor and page through these arrays. Tag anyone who looks familiar.”

“All right.” It wasn’t the distracting task she’d anticipated, but it would suffice. With the fake cops in custody, she had to assume she was looking at their known associates, one of whom might be her stalker.

“How did you disarm the man holding you?” Grant asked.

She rubbed a hand gently over her sore arm. There would be bruises from those horrid, hard fingers by morning. “Self-defense and martial arts classes in college,” she explained. “I’m pretty good with my elbows and the element of surprise.”

“Good to know,” Grant said. “Why don’t you come out to the bar and enjoy the music while you page through those arrays,” he suggested with a fatherly smile. “You’ll be the perfect decoration.”

“Decoration?” She gave him a hard look, pretending to be offended while she weighed the offer in the friendly spirit he’d intended. Still, going out there was an invitation to trouble. She couldn’t afford for her boss to get another picture and accuse her of having a personal life again. “I’m safer back here.”

Grant shook his head slowly, staring at her with the wisdom of a man who understood the complexities of human nature all too well. “Nowhere is safe, Julia. Not entirely. There’s less risk with our help, but there’s still risk.”

“I’m aware.” Too aware. This club existed primarily because Grant had been forced into retirement after being shot in the line of duty.

“Then multitask. No one wants to look at scumbag mug shots on a Friday night. It’ll be easier to take if you’re surrounded by music and upbeat energy. We’ve got quite a crowd tonight.”

“You don’t have any receipts I can sort? Supply orders to place? When I’m done with the photo arrays, I mean.”

“Julia.” He shook his head. “Next you’ll ask to wash dishes. I can’t afford the cleaning bill if your clothes get ruined,” he added when she perked up at the idea.

She laughed. Her position at Marburg required her to dress the part, and her past had trained her how to manage that requirement without blowing the budget. “I picked up this outfit on clearance.”

“In that case...”

“Nope.” She stood up and scooped her hair back from her face, pocketing the hair tie. “First choice was being a decoration and I’m taking that one.”

Tablet in hand, she followed Grant out of the office and into the club. She caught the curious expression on Mitch’s face when she was settled on a bar stool with a frosty bottle of beer at her fingertips.

He worked his way down the bar, serving customers until he was right in front of her. “Does the most beautiful woman in the place need anything?”

Her heart did a little pirouette at his words and the heat in his eyes sent her temperature climbing. She moistened her lips and his eyes tracked the motion. “I’m good, thanks,” she managed.

“I’m surprised to see you sitting out here,” he said. “I like it.”

“Me, too.” She leaned a little closer to the warm affection in Mitch’s face. “Better than playing scared and peeking around corners.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he teased. “That move had its charm.”

“It did not,” she countered, unable to stop grinning and blushing like a crushing teenager faced with her favorite idol. She wanted to kiss him again, until neither could have a single thought outside of each other.

Mitch reached out and curled a lock of her hair around his finger, laying it over her shoulder. “What changed your mind?”

Her entire body sighed into that movement. “Grant had a valid argument.” Thank goodness the music was loud enough that she had to shout rather than dissolve into a breathless puddle at Mitch’s feet.

“Which was?”

“He said cruising through the perp version of online dating would be more fun out here with you.” The little voice in her head insisted countless things in life would be more fun with Mitch.

“Hmm.” His brown eyes twinkled. “You’re not the sort to dismiss a valid argument.”

“That’s true.” She also wasn’t the sort to boldly flirt with a bartender, a fireman or anyone else. He made her forget everyone in the club and their cell phone cameras. “Maybe I should go make a case for getting you out of here early.” What was she saying?

He leaned back and shook his head, a hungry grin tilting his mouth. “No. I’ll finish out the shift.” He applied his bar towel to the gleaming wood in front of her and then flipped it over his shoulder. “Then when we go home there won’t be any second thoughts.”

As he turned back to the customers vying for his attention, she admired the view and the easy way he had with them. Men or women, he managed each order with a friendly smile and economy of movement.

She’d never been that easy with anyone, not even growing up. That sense of belonging, of having a safe place, had always eluded her until she’d landed at Marburg. Even as an intern, she’d been comfortable there and somehow found her rightful place within those elegant and stately offices, so far from where she’d started. Studying each face in the various arrays, she worried about the stalker robbing her of the one place where she felt she belonged. She could
not
let him win.

“That’s a serious expression for a pretty girl.”

Julia glanced up at the strange voice, to find a man leering down at the scoop neck of her sweater. His sharp features might be considered handsome, but his calculating gaze ruined the overall effect for her. She pegged him as the type who believed the undivided attention of any woman he deigned to approach was merely his due.

She’d had enough trouble for one night. Ignoring him in favor of her beer, she hoped he’d take the subtle hint. After the past few hours, it wouldn’t take much for her to deck him rather than find the right words to send him packing.

He tapped her shoulder. “Come dance with me. I’ll make you forget whatever his name is.”

Julia recoiled at the touch. “No, thanks. I’m not your type.”

“You’re just the girl I’m—”

She stopped listening to his nonsense. At the other end of the bar, Mitch caught her eye. She could see the protective streak from here and gave a little shake of her head. Between the two of them, edgy as they were from the near miss earlier, she decided to get rid of this idiot on her own. She couldn’t ask Mitch to fight every battle or rescue her from every arrogant man who crossed her path.

Twisting in her seat, she aimed her best and brightest smile at the stranger. “I’m not your girl.” She showed more teeth. “I’m an attorney here on business. If you don’t want that business to be you, I suggest you leave me alone.
Now
.”

The stranger’s eyes went wide and he backed away quickly, squeezing into the safer anonymity of the crowd.

“Who was that?” Mitch asked when he reached her.

“An idiot, not another problem,” she explained calmly.

His gaze scanned the crowd behind her. “You’re sure?”

She nodded, infused with a fresh surge of independence. “I like watching you work,” she blurted out, bringing those intense brown eyes back to her.

His expression softened. “You’re joking.”

She leaned across the bar and kissed him. “Not a bit.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask for any specific examples.

He glanced at the bottle in front of her, his brow creasing. “Did the idiot drop something in your beer?”

“No.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, pleased to see him track the small movement. “Go do your job so I can enjoy the view again.”

His grin was absolutely wicked. “There’s a suggestion I won’t ignore.”

For the remainder of his shift, Julia could almost believe she was here under purely social circumstances. The music pounded from the band onstage to the swell of cheers from a raucous, appreciative crowd. Only the photo arrays reminded her she had more serious problems.

By the time Grant retrieved his tablet and cut Mitch loose, she was a messy blend of exhaustion and excitement. She wanted to fall into bed, and knowing it would be a bed in Mitch’s house had filled her brain with tantalizing, unwise scenarios.

It didn’t help that his hand was at her back, making her want to snuggle into the shelter he offered as they headed down the hallway. Someone called Mitch’s name as they passed by the kitchen. He tensed, doing that thing where he put himself between her and the unknown as he turned. He was so close she felt his body relax in one fluid rush.

“Carson Lane!” Mitch reached out to give the other man half a hug and then introduced Julia. “What are you doing here?”

“Marking time,” he replied.

Julia noticed the pervasive sadness lingering in the man’s eyes and she felt an unexpected urge to comfort him.

“I heard about what happened. I’m sorry, man.”

“We’re in a risky business.” Carson’s shoulders hitched in a valiant effort to shrug off the sympathy. “Grant threw me a line. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I do,” Mitch agreed, his hand flexing on Julia’s waist.

“Hey, Grant said you need a sketch artist.”

“Crap.” Mitch tensed again, shooting her a contrite look. “I meant to tell you.”

She waved off his unnecessary worry. “We’ve been busy.”

He turned back to Carson. “He meant you? You’re a sketch artist, too?”

“I prefer driving the ambulance, but I have some other skills.” A hint of a smile tugged up one side of his mouth. “You want to do this now?”

Julia was relieved to hear Mitch ask for a rain check. “We’ve had a long, tough day,” he said. “Will tomorrow work?”

“Sure.” With a swift exchange of phone numbers, Mitch and Julia made a hasty exit.

“What happened to Carson?” she asked quietly when they reached Mitch’s car.

“His partner on the ambulance was killed while they were out on a call. He’s had some trouble overcoming it and getting back on the job.”

She couldn’t imagine that kind of struggle. “I hope spending time with Grant helps.”

“Grant won’t let him slip through the cracks,” Mitch said, reaching over and patting her hand. “Carson will find his feet again.”

“Grant is a good man.”

“Definitely.”

They let the rest of the short drive to the west side go in silence until he took a quick detour and pointed out the garage where Mitch and his brother restored cars. She twisted in her seat, craning to get a better look. “Will you take me by in the daylight sometime?”

“Are you telling me you’re into classic cars?”

She was into
him
, a fact that worried her a bit more without the diversions of the club as a buffer. “It sounds interesting. And I’d like to meet the man who’s taken over my apartment.”

“Ah. That makes more sense,” he said, turning the corner and immediately pulling into a narrow carport tucked back between two houses. He stopped in front of a detached garage and turned off the car. “Home sweet home,” he said, pushing open his car door.