The Doctor's Defender (Protection Specialists Book 3) (8 page)

“Good job,” Kyle said as they left the shooting range and climbed into the SUV.

“That was surprisingly fun,” she exclaimed.

“Didn’t I tell you you’d like it?” He headed the vehicle out of the parking lot.

“You did.” She sat back, feeling content and empowered. Not that she had a gun to carry, but she now knew how to use one. Just in case. She couldn’t stop the little shudder at that thought. “Thank you for taking me shooting.”

“You’re welcome.” At a stoplight, he looked at her and tilted his head, his blue eyes studying her.

“What?” she asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

He reached out, but when his hand neared her face, she drew back slightly.

“You have a little gunpowder on your cheek,” he said.

Feeling foolish, she froze. The rough pad of his finger brushed across her cheek and lingered, sending little tingles shooting through her like Fourth of July sparklers.

Reflexively her hand came up to wipe at the spot. Their fingers collided.

He drew his hand back and placed it on the steering wheel. She rubbed her fingers together.

Up ahead she saw a big one-stop-shopping superstore. “I’d like to stop there,” she said, pointing.

Kyle parked the SUV in a spot near the side of the
supersize grocery store’s side entrance. When Kyle picked up a small carry basket, she shook her head and grabbed a cart. They’d eaten most of Felicia’s stew last night and her food this morning. Brenda filled the cart with supplies for three.

Kyle didn’t comment on her purchases, even when she grabbed a one-pound bag of peanut M&M’s. If she had to be in seclusion, she was going to have some comfort foods available. Peanut M&M’s, mac and cheese, tomato soup and toaster pops. These were the things that would make life bearable over the next few days.

“You sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” Kyle asked, eyeing her cart.

“I think I’m ready to check out.” She pushed her cart toward the cash register and got in line.

The man in front of her glanced back and then spun around. “Brenda, what a surprise seeing you here.”

Brenda blinked. Wariness had her muscles tightening. Kyle stepped closer, their shoulders touching, his hand settling possessively at the small of her back. She was startled by the contact as well as how nice it felt, right up until he slipped a finger into her belt loop—
undoubtedly so he could jerk her back out of harm’s way if need be. She glanced at him. His strong jaw was set in a firm line, his narrowed-eye gaze trained on the man waiting expectantly for her to respond.

White teeth gleamed against the guy’s tan skin. He had light brown hair and brown eyes and wore a polo shirt, white shorts and deck shoes. She tried to place the face. Dredge up a name. But couldn’t. Could he be the one trying to kill her? She scooted even closer to Kyle and tried for a polite smile, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Roger Harmon. We met at your parents’ home last winter,” he said, his initial enthusiasm dimming slightly. “I called you several times but could never reach you.”

Ah. Now she remembered. Sunday night fix-up. Roger was a dentist, divorced and belonged to her father’s yacht club. She relaxed slightly. There was a reason she didn’t have an answering machine at her apartment. She didn’t want to be obligated to return calls from men her parents set her up with. The answering service at the hospital knew to pass on only legitimate patient calls.

Silence stretched out. She’d been raised to be polite, so she asked, “What brings you to Winthrop Harbor?”

“Sailing tomorrow in a distance race,” he said. “Will you be racing?”

Yearning hit her like a rogue wave. She wanted to be out on the water. “No. No racing this weekend.”

“The weatherman says this will be the last good weekend for a while,” Roger commented.

“I wish you well in your race, then,” Brenda said.

“Sir?” the grocery clerk called.

“It was nice seeing you again,” Roger said and moved forward to buy his groceries.

Brenda could feel Kyle’s gaze on her as they waited for Roger to finish his purchases and head out the store door. When Brenda went to hand the clerk the money, Kyle covered her hand with his, halting her midair.

“Let me,” he said, handing over a credit card.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, frowning at him. She was pretty sure buying groceries wasn’t in his job description.

“It will be in my expense report,” he stated as he took his card back from the clerk. They left the store with their groceries. Once the bags were stowed in the cargo space and they were rolling away from the store, Kyle said, “So you race on a team? Why didn’t you mention this before? Maybe one of your teammates has it out for you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t do teams, so there’s no worries there.”

“But you do race? Roger asked if you were competing.”

“I do. In single-person regattas. I have a sweet
Sunfish moored at the Chicago Yacht Club.” Sailing had started as a way for her and her father to bond. But sailing had become her passion. A way for her to let off steam.

“Tell me about Roger Harmon. How do you know him?”

Brenda sighed. “I don’t really know him. He was just someone Mom and Dad fixed me up with last winter. I only met him the one time.”

Kyle lifted an eyebrow as he started the engine. “And he didn’t call?”

She made a face. “He probably did. I don’t have an answering machine.”

“Do your parents fix you up often?”

“Occasionally. They want grandkids,” she stated. They also thought she was lonely and a workaholic. She’d admit to the workaholic charge, but because she spent all of her time at work, in a hospital, with people, how could she be lonely? She didn’t have time to be lonely.

Kyle’s expression turned thoughtful as he drove. “I’m going to need a list of all the men your parents have tried to fix you up with.”

She groaned. “I don’t remember them. One uncomfortable dinner was enough, thank you. I’m sure my parents will have names to give you.” She cocked her head. “Why? You don’t think one of them...”

He shrugged. “Could be. I’ll have Detective Lebowitz
check ’em out.”

“I can’t imagine that someone my parents thought highly enough of to introduce to me would want me dead.” That just didn’t seem plausible. “I think this has to do with the lawsuit. Especially now whoever is doing this is fine with harming other hospital staff.”

“Okay. Let’s go with that for a moment.” He turned down the drive toward the cabin. “What exactly is the suit about?”

“The Hanson family is claiming negligence on my part and that of the hospital killed Mr. Hanson.”

“Did it?”

“No. It was a routine procedure. Everything was going perfectly. And then, it wasn’t,” she said.

He brought the vehicle to a halt. They carried the groceries into the house.

“How can you be sure there was no negligence?” he asked as he unloaded a bag.

She blew out a breath and tucked a pound of chicken in the drawer of the refrigerator. “I’ve gone over the chart notes, the reports and medical history so many times I can recite them by rote. The lawyers have gone over everything. Dr. Landsem has gone over every detail. There was no negligence. There was no logical reason for the man’s death.”

“And everything has to be logical for you,” he said.

“Yes. Is that so wrong?” She folded the empty bags and put them in the recycle bin.

“Not wrong.” He shrugged, his gaze holding hers. “Limiting.”

“How so?” she asked, curious how his mind worked.

“By putting everything into neatly ordered boxes of cause and effect, you leave no room for the unexpected, the unexplainable. You miss out on aspects of life that could bring great joy and peace.”

“Like God?”

“Like God.”

“You sound like my mom and dad,” she said.

His eyes twinkled. “I knew I liked them for a reason.”

“They are likeable.”
Like you.
She let the unspoken thought tumble through her mind.

Needing some air, she headed out the kitchen door. Kyle followed her. She could see the lake through the trees. Desperate for the solace found in the gentle lapping waves, in the expanse of blue water reflecting the orange-and-red glow of the setting sun, she kept walking toward the lake. The temperature had cooled. A slight breeze wafted in the air.

The snap of a branch behind them jolted through her. Sudden fear halted her breath.

In one swift motion, Kyle pulled her against him with an arm wrapped around her waist. He swiveled them around so that his big body shielded her while his free hand reached for his weapon, ready to blast whatever threat came their way.

SEVEN

A
dog burst through the underbrush. Without pausing, the canine dashed to the right and disappeared again through the trees.

Melting with relief, Brenda dropped her head against Kyle’s chest with a strangled laugh. “Only a dog.”

He lifted his finger off the trigger and tucked his weapon back into the small holster at his waist.

“Neighbor’s dog. I’ll have Felicia call and tell them to keep him on a leash.”

“Good idea,” she said and forced herself to step away from the security and warmth of his arms.

For a long moment neither spoke. She stared at the lake, letting the peaceful scenery smooth the edges of her fear.

Kyle placed his hands on her shoulders. She jumped. She gave him a nervous smile. “Sorry. A little on edge.”

“Understandable.” Peering at her with an intensity she found disconcerting, he picked up their conservation. “Have you talked to the Hanson family?”

She sighed as an ache sliced through her heart. “Once, right after his death.” She closed her eyes briefly as the memory assailed her. “The hardest part of my job is delivering devastating news like that. It’s standard for the operating doctor to inform the family of the outcome of the surgery, good or bad.”

“What did you say?”

Her heart squeezed tight as she relived that moment. “I told them what happened and that we tried our best to save him. There wasn’t much more I could say.”

“But you haven’t talked to them since then?”

She shook her head and watched a gull dive into the water for food. “The hospital’s attorney said we shouldn’t have any contact. It could hurt our case and would make me seem guilty.”

His eyebrows drew together. “I don’t think showing some empathy would make you seem guilty. Sometimes people just need to know others understand.”

“Maybe in a perfect world,” she said. “This is not a perfect world.”

“Perfection is in the eye of the beholder, yes?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you feel guilty?”

She turned to stare at him. She studied his face, liking the sharp angles and straight lines. Handsome, yes, but there was something about this man that drew her to him in a way she’d never experienced before. And that scared and confused her almost as much as someone wanting her dead.

When he arched an eyebrow, she realized she hadn’t responded to his question. “I do because I can’t explain what happened,” she admitted.

“Which pricks your pride?”

Her defenses rose. “It’s not pride, it’s expectations.” Since as far back as she could remember, people expected her to do well; ace her tests, excel at her chosen field and perform flawless surgeries. Be the best, do the best.

“Ah, but whose expectations?”

“Everyone’s.” The pressure to live up to the expectations placed on her at times seemed overwhelming.

One side of his mouth curved. “Yours included?”

“Yes,” she conceded. “I’m expected to be perfect all the time. I have to be.”

“No one can be perfect all the time, Brenda,” he said, his voice gentle.

Figured she’d get a bodyguard who noticed and dissected stuff. Funny. She was usually the one doing the dissecting. Only she dissected the physical, not the emotional. Life was easier that way. Keeping everyone at an emotional distance allowed her to remain focused on her work. But it also kept her from being hurt. The realization didn’t settle well.

She blew out a breath. “What are you? Some armchair psychologist?”

A flash of sadness marched across his face. “No. I could never claim to be that.”

Meeting his gaze, her mouth went dry. Her insides turned to mush. He was perfect in an imperfect way that defied logic. Strong, capable, charming, yet irreverent. From the moment he’d walked into Dr. Landsem’s office, she hadn’t intended to like him. Yet she did.

Attraction sizzled in the air around them, making her yearn for something she had no business wanting. He was her bodyguard. His objective was to keep her alive, not fulfill some latent girlhood fantasies of being rescued by a knight in shining armor.

Okay, so he didn’t have on armor. He had on jeans, a T-shirt and canvas shoes, but he’d saved her life. She had to remember not to let the situation go to her head.

* * *

Later that evening, Brenda shooed Felicia out of the kitchen. “I’m making dinner for us.”

Delight lit up Felicia’s eyes. “You are? How lovely.”

A pink hue touched Brenda’s cheeks. “I took some cooking lessons last year. I make a mean chicken soup.”

“Sounds delicious,” Felicia said with a wide smile. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”

Kyle leaned against the counter. “You took cooking lessons, huh?”

Brenda set the oven to heat up. “My mother tried to teach me when I was young, but I wasn’t much interested. I was too focused on my grades as a kid. But after years of eating out or eating microwavable food, I decided I needed to know how to make a few things just in case—” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out several items.

“Just in case?” he prompted when it seemed she wouldn’t continue.

“I ever wanted to entertain.” She found a pot, filled it with water and set it to boil on the stove.

“And have you?”

Her mouth pressed into a line for a moment. “No. I haven’t.”

There was the barest hint of regret in her tone. Was the regret because she hadn’t taken the time? He pushed away from the counter. “Tonight you do. What can I do to help?”

She sent him a startled look. “You want to help?”

“Sure. Need anything cut up?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m pretty good with a sharp blade.” He didn’t tell her he had a butterfly knife strapped to the inside of his left calf.

She blinked then returned his smile. “Good. That makes two of us.”

He burst out laughing as one of the region’s best surgeons tossed him a plastic bag filled with veggies.

“Okay.” She pointed toward the wooden block filled with cutlery. “You can cut up the carrots, celery and mushrooms.”

“So why haven’t you entertained?” he asked as he set about slicing the vegetables and putting the pieces in a large bowl.

She turned on the faucet to rinse the chicken. “I haven’t met anyone outside of my parents that I’m interested in entertaining.”

Kyle almost cut off his thumbnail. “
Ever?
Or just in the past few days?” he teased, referring to his unexpected appearance in her life.

She shook her head. “The past few days don’t count.”

For some reason that pleased him. Maybe she wasn’t as immune to his charm as she appeared. Hmm. Interesting. “Come on. You expect me to believe you haven’t had anyone in your life to cook for?”

She cocked her head and looked at him. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Seriously?” Was she fishing for a compliment? She hadn’t struck him as that type. He started chopping the celery.

Pushing at a stray strand of hair with the back of her hand, she said, “Yeah, seriously.”

He didn’t detect any guile in her dark eyes. “Because you’re beautiful, smart. Fearless.”

She made a face and returned her focus on cooking. “Right. Get real.”

He chuckled. “Okay, maybe not fearless. But definitely brave. You’ve handled the past few days admirably. No hysterics. Which is a huge plus, believe me.”

“Have you had to protect many hysterical females?” Curiosity echoed in her tone.

“My fair share.” Careful not to divulge identities, he told her about some of his more colorful assignments as they worked side by side in the small kitchen.

Her laughter filled his heart, making his chest expand as he added a dramatic flair to his tales to keep her laughing. He got a kick out of the way her nose crinkled and her eyes danced with enjoyment.

“Stop,” she said, holding a hand to her side. “That can’t all be true.”

“It totally is.”

“You should have been a comedian,” she commented as she turned to clean up the mess they’d made.

“My sister would agree with you on that.”

Brenda paused. “You have a sister?”

“A twin, actually.”

“That must be wonderful.” Wistfulness tinged her words. “Where does she live?”

“Kaitlin moved to Boston when I took the job at Trent Associates. She’s a librarian.”

“You’re proud of her,” Brenda stated, her chocolate-colored eyes regarding him perceptively.

“I am. When my mom died, Kait turned inward. She didn’t speak for the longest time. But she loved books. Still does.”

“Must have been hard on you and your father.”

His heart ached to remember those days. “I was totally self-absorbed in my own pain. I acted out, taking advantage of the fact that my dad pretty much forgot about me. He was an alcoholic and doted on Kait. It wasn’t until later that—”

He cut himself off. What was he doing? He never talked about this stuff. He wasn’t one of those touchy-feely kinds of guys. He didn’t usually feel the need to open up and let anyone see the pain inside. He’d tried that once four years ago with a woman named Linda Francis. She’d thought she could heal him. She’d been wrong. Her disappointment was more than he could take. He’d decided then it was better to keep things light.

“That what?” she asked.

The concern in her pretty eyes called to something deep inside him. A need to share the burden he carried welled up. He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and resisted the urge to dissemble with a joke. Amazing how that often filled in for him when he was uncomfortable. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it again with Brenda.

“I realized what he’d done to Kait.” His fingers curled into a ball at his side as old rage roared to life.

Compassion and horror mixed in her expression. “He abused her?”

The words were like a serrated blade slicing through his gut. He wanted to deny it, wanted to rewind the clock and go back. He wanted to protect his twin. Regret and guilt lay heavy on his heart. “Yes. But by the time I learned of it, I was miles away at boot camp and she’d run away.”

“She never said anything to you?”

He shook his head. “No. She’d suffered in silence while I was out getting myself in trouble. I should’ve been at home protecting her.”

“Even if she’d told you, what could you have done? You were both just kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s my twin. I should have known. If I’d paid any attention, stuck around the house, he wouldn’t have been able to hurt her.”

“Where did your sister go? She obviously came back.”

“Running away saved her life. She ended up in a shelter. Felicia—” Affection filled his chest. “Aunt Felicia ran the place and took Kait under her wing.”

Brenda’s eyes widened. “So that’s how you know Felicia. Wow, that’s...amazing.”

“She’s amazing. She worked with Kait, got her speaking again. Felicia found out what had happened and called in child protective services. The police took my father into custody. He did jail time.”

“That was the right thing for her to do,” Brenda said sagely. “When you’re in a position of authority, like a doctor, teacher or director of a shelter, and you suspect child abuse, you call CPS. I’ve had to call on several occasions. Not on cases at the hospital, but patients at the downtown clinic.”

Another reason to admire this woman. She always did the right thing. Unlike him. He’d turned his back on his sister when she’d needed him the most. “I’m sure child abuse in all its forms happens more than it’s reported.”

Brenda nodded. “Unfortunately, I suspect you’re right. I can only imagine how traumatic it must have been for your sister, for you both, to lose your mother and then to have your father...”

“It was.” Her words brought to mind the situation she faced with her own family. “But losing a parent at any time, for any reason, is traumatic.”

Her gaze dropped, but not before he saw the welling of sadness in the dark depths of her eyes. “Yes.”

He crossed to her and folded his arms around her, feeling her sorrow and pain acutely. He wanted to offer what comfort he could because he understood her hurt so well. She felt stiff within the circle of his embrace, as if she didn’t want to depend on him or anyone else for comfort. “You can’t lose hope that your dad will beat his illness.”

On an audible exhale she softened, relaxing slightly against him. Her head fit perfectly in the well of his throat and her breath, warm through his cotton shirt, was in time to his. He liked having her in his arms a little too much, but he couldn’t find it within himself to let go. She was a client, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t be letting things get so personal. Knowing that and acting on it were two different things. Right now, he wanted personal.

“I’m trying not to,” she said. “But sometimes hope is hard to find.”

Knowing she might refuse, he asked anyway. “Would you like me to pray for him?”

She drew back to look at him, seeming to turn his words over in her head. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He could see skepticism in the depths of her eyes, but he’d never let that stop him. “Lord, we ask for healing for Brenda’s father. We ask for peace and comfort. Amen.”

A smile touched the corner of her mouth. “That was short and to the point.”

An answering smile curved his lips. “I’m not big on long and drawn out. Usually no time for much more than a ‘Help me, Lord.’”

Her expression closed as she stepped out of his embrace. “In your line of work, I can see how that would be true.”

She quickly turned to check on the casserole.

Kyle wanted her back in his arms. How crazy was that?

Not so crazy, really. They’d shared a moment that went beyond the physical attraction he felt toward her. Heady stuff for sure. But she was the client, and he didn’t have any intention of letting either of them become entangled in something that had no hope of going anywhere.

When this assignment was over, when the man wanting to kill Brenda was caught, Kyle would move on to another assignment. That was how it worked. How it had to work. He didn’t want anything permanent.

Time to put a little emotional distance between them and concentrate on why they were at the cabin in the first place.

He took out his cell phone. “I’m going to step outside to make a call.”