DO NO HARM

As a trauma surgeon, Dr. Brenda Storm saves lives every day. But someone wants her dead. It starts with the anonymous delivery of poisoned cupcakes. Now the hospital has hired a bodyguard to protect her 24/7. At first, Brenda doesn’t think too-handsome Kyle Martin is right for the job. Then she discovers his harrowing background—and that Kyle will do anything to keep her safe. With every attempt on her life, she’s more drawn to the strong and silent man who risks his life for hers. But their growing feelings could put them both in harm’s way.

“Do you ever give a straight answer?” Brenda asked.

“Not if I can help it.” Kyle understood she wanted to know what made him tick, what made him qualified to protect her, what made him who he was.

But he needed her to trust him without knowing the answers. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Trust me. I promise.”

Her mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “What choice do I have?”

He grinned again. “Now, that’s the spirit.” He sobered as he approached the next subject, prepared to do battle. “We need to figure out a more secure location for you.”

Dark eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

He gestured toward the covered window. “Too many places a sniper could take a shot from. The outside hallway’s too tight. A perfect place for an ambush. If we needed to escape, all anyone would have to do is pick us off as we came out the door.”

A visible tremor worked over her. “I don’t know where we could go.”

“I do.”

TERRI REED

At an early age Terri Reed discovered the wonderful world of fiction and declared she would one day write a book. Now she is fulfilling that dream and enjoys writing for Love Inspired Books. Her second book, A Sheltering Love, was a 2006 RITA® Award finalist and a 2005 National Readers’ Choice Award finalist. Her book Strictly Confidential, book five in the Faith at the Crossroads continuity series, took third place in the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award, and Her Christmas Protector took third place in 2008. She is an active member of both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children and an array of critters. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, gardening and playing with her dogs.

You can write to Terri at P.O. Box 19555 Portland, OR 97280. Visit her on the web at www.loveinspiredauthors.com, leave comments on her blog, www.ladiesofsuspense.blogspot.com, or email her at terrireed@sterling.net.

The Doctor’s Defender

Terri Reed

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge

and my fortress: my God; in Him I will trust.”

—Psalms 91:2

To my husband, who is always my hero.

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Excerpt

ONE

“You’re working late again.”

Dr. Brenda Storm glanced up from the open files spread out across her desk and winced. Dr. Sam Johnson walked into her office, looking very GQ, with his gelled hair, pressed slacks and starched shirt beneath his white lab coat. She hadn’t heard the door open, let alone a knock.

The thought of having to fend off another of his unwelcome advances made her stomach churn. The plastic surgeon might have excellent skills when it came to facial reconstruction, but he hadn’t a clue about her lack of interest in him. He was probably so used to women falling at his feet that he saw her disinterest as a challenge.

Well, she wasn’t looking for romance. She had too much to accomplish, too much at stake. Her career came first. It would always come first.

And even if she were looking for a relationship, it certainly wouldn’t be with some playboy hotshot whose ego was triple his shoe size. She’d made that kind of mistake once when she was young and naive.

She’d fallen for such a guy once her first year of med school. Josh had been cute, smart and charismatic. A total player.

And she’d been just another conquest to brag about.

Humiliated and hurt, she’d vowed then to be more careful when it came to romance. So far her carefulness hadn’t lent itself to finding a husband, much to her parents’ chagrin.

She forced a smile. “Hi, Sam. What can I do for you?”

His white, even teeth gleamed when he smiled. All practiced charm. It usually worked for him, she was sure, but to her it came across as very phony. Too much like the men her parents were constantly trying to fix her up with. Men who wanted the prestige of having a general surgeon for a wife, but not the lifestyle that went with it.

Long hours and single-minded focus were what got her this far. At thirty-four she was a well-respected general-practice surgeon with ambitions to be department chief. That usually didn’t settle well with prospective suitors.

She’d been called a workaholic, too serious, too controlling, too dispassionate...

“Since we’re both speaking next Friday, I was thinking maybe we could go together,” he said.

She blinked. “Where?”

“The annual fundraiser.”

She’d forgotten about the hospital’s yearly fall gala. She’d been asked to speak about the technological advances used in general surgery. Ugh. No way of bowing out. She scrambled, searching for a reason why they couldn’t “go together” as he put it. “I...”

Gary, the hospital’s security guard, poked his head inside the doorway. “Package for you.”

Glad for the interruption, she waved him in. In his sixties, the man was twice her age, with graying hair and a wide smile, but he was still strong and capable. He’d been a part of Heritage Hospital long before she’d come aboard. She hoped he’d be around for a long time. He helped out when he saw a need, unlike some of the younger guards who manned the front reception area during various shifts.

Given that Heritage Hospital took up a full block in a very affluent suburb of Chicago, she guessed the younger guards viewed their time at Heritage as a cushy job since they saw little criminal activity on a daily basis. Still, having a security presence gave patients and staff of the hospital a measure of comfort.

And for the doctors and nurses, an extra pair of hands was an extra pair of hands. Welcome when needed.

“These smell delicious.” Gary carried a pink bakery box. The distinctive label on the side was from a posh cupcake shop not far from the hospital. “There’s a card taped to the top.”

Brenda rose and came around the desk to peel the envelope from the top of the box. Inside was a pretty thank-you card. The signature of the sender was illegible. She had no idea who was thanking her or why.

“You get cupcakes from patients?” Sam asked, peering over her shoulder. “All I get are pictures once they’ve healed. I’d prefer cupcakes.”

Brenda received other gifts and tokens of gratitude from patients, nice gestures for doing the job she’d spent her whole life training for. She had more wins than losses. Still, the Hanson case hanging over her head robbed her of appreciating this small thank-you.

Three months ago, Peter Hanson had died on her operating table. He’d come into Heritage Hospital with acute appendicitis. She’d been the surgeon on call and quickly assessed he needed surgery. Everything went smoothly until his heart stopped in the middle of what she’d considered a textbook procedure.

The autopsy had been inconclusive. There had been no heart disease. No blockage. No aortic stenosis, no myocarditis. No genetic issues. No structural damage.

And now his family was suing her and the hospital for malpractice.

A blemish on her otherwise spotless record. She felt sick thinking about it. Had she done something wrong, made some crucial mistake? The possibilities gnawed at her, eating away at her confidence.

She set the pink bakery box on the desk and opened the lid to reveal four fancy cupcakes with colorful sprinkles atop fluffy white frosting and little smiley-faced rings, the kind usually meant for children.

Brenda normally didn’t operate on children. At least not at Heritage Hospital. However, she did treat patients of all age ranges and walks of life at the downtown clinic she’d helped establish.

In the past couple of years, she’d taken out an inflamed appendix on a ten-year-old girl, adenoids for a preteen boy, a ruptured spleen on a six-year-old and tonsils from at least three prepubescent kids. Had this come from one of those families? Or had these been the only available cupcakes at the bakery? That seemed more likely.

“Yum. Those are from Blissful Indulgence,” Sam said. “So much goodness in a small package.”

The cupcakes didn’t look that small to Brenda. Each confection looked to have about five hundred grams of fat ready to clog arteries. “Help yourselves.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Gary said and reached to take a cupcake. He peeled back the paper wrapper around the bottom and took a bite. After he swallowed, he said, “Thanks, Dr. Storm. These are amazing.” He left the office with a smile.

Sam picked up a cupcake but didn’t take a bite. “You still haven’t answered my question. The fall gala? Us going together?” He gave her a searching look. “Unless, of course, you already have a date.”

No date. And she didn’t want one with him. Or anyone for that matter. “Let me think about it and get back to you.”

“I know what that means,” Sam replied with a slightly petulant tone.

Maybe he had more of a clue than she’d thought. She’d give him an A for persistence.

Gary reappeared at the door. “Help,” he croaked, clinging to the door frame, his face ashen as he slid to the floor in a heap.

Alarm jolted through Brenda. Heart attack? A massive coronary, perhaps.

She pushed Sam out of the way and ran to Gary. She rolled him over. “Call for help.”

“On it.” Sam picked up the phone on the desk.

She placed her fingers against Gary’s neck, hoping to find a carotid pulse. He had none. Her stomach sank. “No pulse. Not breathing.”

Sam spoke into the phone. “Code Ninety-nine. Dr. Storm’s office.”

Dread chipped away at her composure. She tilted Gary’s head back and tugged his jaw forward to open the airway. From her coat pocket, she grabbed a microshield CPR mask and placed it over his lips, fitting the mask air valve against his tongue. The faint scent of almonds wafted from his mouth. “Beginning CPR.”

* * *

“Gary died from cyanide poisoning?” Stunned, Brenda sat back in the armchair across the expansive mahogany desk from Ned Landsem, Heritage Hospital’s administrator. Her stomach roiled at the news. The smell of almonds on Gary’s breath hadn’t come from the flavoring in the cupcakes but from poison.

Despite her and the staff’s best efforts, Gary had died. Her heart ached at the loss. She tucked her sadness away in the deep depths of her heart. Compartmentalizing came with the job. “How? Why?”

“I don’t have all the details.” Nearer to seventy than sixty, Ned Landsem was still a dashing man with thick white hair and a robust personality that made working for him a joy. “The police suspect the cupcakes that were delivered to you were laced with cyanide. Once toxicology comes back, they’ll have confirmation.”

Realization slammed into her like a gale-force wind coming off Lake Michigan in the winter. Someone had tried to kill her. Shock stole the breath from her lungs.

She shuddered as anxiety and fear dug deep talons through her, leaving weeping wounds. Someone wanted her dead.

And had murdered Gary instead.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. A senseless death.

“The police don’t have the resources to give you round-the-clock security, so the hospital has hired a protection specialist from Trent Associates.”

She drew back. “‘Protection Specialist,’ as in bodyguard?”

“We had to move quickly. Trent Associates has an exemplary reputation. They were able to send someone out right away.”

She sat forward. “I don’t get a say in this?”

Though she logically understood the need for a bodyguard and could see the value, she hated not being in control of her own destiny. And having someone out there who wanted her dead made her feel vulnerable in a way she’d never felt before. She didn’t like it one bit.

His expression turned parental. “You’re an important member of our staff, Brenda. Your safety is our priority. We care about you.”

As good as the sentiment felt, she had no illusions about her worth. Her skills in the operating room made her a high-priced commodity, one other hospitals and private practices sought after.

But on a personal level, she wasn’t that close to the staff. Relationships only complicated matters. It was easier to keep people at a distance than to risk disappointment. Theirs and hers.

“I’m sure the staff would appreciate the extra security.” The weight of responsibility pressed on her shoulders. Someone had already been hurt because of her; the least she could do was accept the hospital’s generous gesture.

Ned nodded his approval. “I’m glad you understand. This will be in everyone’s best interest—”

A knock interrupted him. “Come in.”

The door to the office opened. She looked over her shoulder to see the newcomer. Her breath stalled out.

Ned rose and came around the desk, his hand outstretched. “Mr. Martin, I trust your trip went well.”

A tall, lean and drop-dead gorgeous man strode forward and halted beside her chair. He wore khaki cargo pants and a loose-fitting shirt more appropriate for a pool party than a professional meeting. And he wore flip-flops on his feet. Did he plan to head to the lakeshore when he was done here?

“Yes, without a hitch. You must be Dr. Landsem.” The two men shook hands.

Surely this wasn’t her bodyguard. Brenda frowned in confusion. Weren’t bodyguards supposed to look tough and intimidating? Like James Bond or something?

This guy with his shaggy blond hair belonged on a movie set for a beach flick or a photo shoot for a male hottie-of-the-month calendar. Not that she didn’t appreciate his handsomeness. She was a woman with a pulse. She rather liked his angular jawline and full lips.

Lively sky-blue eyes met hers. His gaze slowly raked over her in silent appraisal. Would he see the flaws she worked hard to hide?

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile as if pleased with what he saw. Her pulse skyrocketed.

She sat up straighter. Oh, no. No, no, no. This guy couldn’t be the protection specialist the hospital hired. He was too...too much. Too young. Too good-looking. Not a man to be easily ignored.

Ned gestured to the man and said, “Dr. Brenda Storm, I’d like you to meet Kyle Martin. Your bodyguard.”

* * *

“Hi there, Dr. Storm, I’ve heard good things about you.” Kyle Martin extended his hand toward the brunette beauty sitting perfectly straight in the leather armchair.

She didn’t move. Her lips pressed into a firm line. She couldn’t disapprove of him already, could she? No matter, she wouldn’t be the last.

Odd that she’d wear all black beneath her white lab coat on a hot late-September day. Black slacks, black buttoned-up blouse. Okay, not everything was black. Her red pumps sporting little embroidered roses were in vivid contrast to the stark outfit. Not as somber as she wanted others to believe? Interesting. And intriguing.

Her dark hair was twisted up in a fancy bun in the back. He wondered what she’d do if he undid the pins holding her hair. She’d look softer with all that mass spilling about her shoulders.

Probably slug him. His lips twitched with a suppressed chuckle.

“Okay, we’ll skip the pleasantries,” he said. “I hear you’ve had a tough time lately.” He’d read the dossier on her during the plane ride from Boston. A lot of facts but no real hint of her personality.

She slanted him a glance. Were those tears shimmering in her dark eyes? “If you mean someone trying to poison me and instead killing a sweet man who’d done nothing wrong except indulge in a pretty cupcake, then yeah, I’d say a tough time.”

She was not impressed. Tough. Like it or not, she was stuck with him.

“And being sued for malpractice. I’d say that qualifies, as well.”

With a quick glance at her boss, she said, “Well, you can hardly protect me from that, now can you?”

“You’d be surprised what I can do,” Kyle quipped.

She jumped to her feet, her dark eyes no longer filled with tears. Now they flashed with indignation. “I do not need you.”

Kyle grinned. “Yes, you do need me. I’ll be sticking to you like surf wax to a surfboard until the police catch the person who tried to harm you. No one’s getting near you without going through me.”

Her eyes widened. Her mouth clamped shut. She swung her gaze to the boss man. “This won’t work. I can’t have him—” she waved a hand in Kyle’s direction “—with me in the O.R. The man has on flip-flops. Please, Ned. This isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s an excellent idea.” Ned tipped his chin in Kyle’s direction. “Mr. Martin will take very good care of you.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of,” she argued. “I need to get back to work.”

Ned slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Once the police find who tried to hurt you, everything should all settle down.”

“If it doesn’t, then what?” she asked with a quick glance toward Kyle.

Kyle widened his grin, enjoying the myriad emotions traipsing across her expressive face. She’d bounced from sorrow, to fear, to anger to more anger in the space of a heartbeat.

Her frown deepened.

Okay, shadowing the doctor for the next few days was going to be a challenge. But man, she was easy on the eyes. That was a huge plus. Not that it mattered what she looked like. Protection was protection. He’d do his job and then walk away like always. That was why he liked his job. Each assignment was different, mostly interesting and always temporary.

He was a temporary type of guy.

Especially when it came to women. Prickly women, like the doctor, in particular.

“All we can do is pray the police find whoever did this and arrests them quickly,” Ned said.

“What if they don’t?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

Clearly, she was more freaked out by the threat hanging over her head than she’d like to admit. Kyle figured the doctor was used to being in charge and having everything under control. Most doctors he knew did.

But this was a situation she couldn’t control. He’d have to pick his battles. He didn’t need to be distracted by fighting her for control when a very real and dangerous threat loomed on the horizon. Who knew when this nut job would strike again?

“The police department is top-notch. They’ll find the suspect soon,” Kyle said, hoping to alleviate her stress.

Fear marched across her pretty face. “Fine. You can protect me.” Her voice hitched on the last word. She glanced at the thin gold watch on her delicate wrist. “I’m due in the O.R. in ten.” She gestured to his feet. “Do you have other shoes?”

He grinned and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Her lips thinned as she turned away and stepped toward the door. “Just stay out of my way.”

Kyle snagged her wrist. His palm came in contact with her bare skin, soft and smooth. Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers. Kyle couldn’t figure out what he’d done to upset her. It usually took longer before he offended someone.

“I promise this won’t be so bad,” he said, his voice coming out huskier than he liked. “You’ll hardly even know I’m around.”

She arched a raven-black eyebrow but didn’t shy away from his touch. “That’ll be a feat.”

Not sure what to make of her remark, he shrugged and let go of her. “I can be unobtrusive.”

“We’ll see.” She shimmied past him and exited the room.

Ned clapped Kyle on the back. “You have your work cut out for you. But I trust you’ll keep her safe.”

His gaze remained on the door. “On my life.”

He only hoped the prickly doctor let him do his job.

* * *

Five hours later, exhausted from the stress of her bodyguard’s watchful eye during two minor surgeries, Brenda led the way to her condo. They took the elevator to the fifteenth floor. Her stomach fluttered with nerves. The space was too confining. He was too close. She was having way too much trouble ignoring the waves of attraction sizzling between them. She met his gaze in the reflection off the smooth metal doors. He seemed to see right through her, to her very core.

She averted her gaze, mad at herself for the ridiculous thought.

Just how was this going to play out? Surely he wasn’t expecting to sleep in her apartment. She could only pray he’d make sure she was safely inside and then disappear until morning.

Wishful thinking.

As she approached her door, she dug inside the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled out a set of keys. She reached to insert the key in the doorknob. As quick as lightning, her new bodyguard snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her backward, against his hard chest. Awareness of his muscles and strength slipped over her like a sheet of silk.

Maybe she’d been wrong to think this man couldn’t be tough and intimidating.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, trying to reconcile the warmth spreading through her to the outrage she should be feeling at being manhandled so unceremoniously. She couldn’t quite get there though.

His corded arm and the musky scent of his aftershave distracted her. Not to mention the fact that she hadn’t had this kind of close contact with a man in...well, a long time.

“Saving you from yourself.” His whispered answer tickled her ear and caused a rippling effect of shivers to course through her. “The door could be booby-trapped. Someone wants you dead, remember?”

If he was trying to frighten her, he succeeded. Her stomach rolled. She hated how vulnerable she felt. Someone out there wanted to hurt her and didn’t care who they hurt in the process. And she didn’t know who or why. She could only guess and make assumptions. She bit her lip, a habit she’d dropped years ago but fear had resurrected.

Kyle set her aside. Impossibly she felt even more vulnerable without his strong arms around her. He moved closer to the door and slowly ran his hand around the edges of the frame, inspected the lock and then held out his hand. “Keys?”

She handed over her flashlight key chain with all her keys. “The silver, square one.”

He inserted the key in the lock and turned it. Brenda winced, half expecting an explosion. None came. He turned the handle and cracked the door, once again inspecting the edges.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, grimacing at how small her voice sounded.

“Trip wires.” He pushed the door wide. “Door’s not rigged.” He held up a hand. “Let me clear the place first.”

She blinked with alarm as he withdrew a gun he’d kept hidden at his back beneath the loose shirt. Now she better understood his garb. He dressed to conceal his weapon.

Probably made people underestimate him, just as she’d done when she’d first set eyes on him. He entered the condo with the gun held in front of him and disappeared from view while she waited in the hallway. Her gaze strayed to the elevators, half expecting some bogeyman to come bounding out.

Kyle returned, the gun out of sight and a grin on his handsome face. “Nice place.”

“Thanks,” she said automatically.

Though the idea of him entering her home and inspecting every nook and cranny left her feeling exposed. She never let anyone into her inner sanctum. But she didn’t have a choice. And that grated on her. Her unknown assassin had taken her options away. Anger stirred, mixing with the fear.

She placed her purse on the maple side table just inside the doorway. Since she’d worked a double shift at the hospital and had stayed the night there last night, the place smelled musty and hot after several days of being closed up.

She went straight to the window, drew back the floor-to-ceiling drapes and cracked the windows to let in some fresh air. They were fifteen floors up with an unobstructed view of Lake Michigan. The sight of sailboats gliding on the blue water made her smile. She wished she were out there, where the only thing she had to worry about was the wind and the rigging.

“This view is the reason I picked this building,” she explained. “I’m a little farther from the hospital than I’d prefer, but being this close to the lake and having this view makes the trek worth it.”

“Fantastic view, but a security nightmare,” Kyle commented as he moved to stand directly in front of her. He propelled her back several feet.

She cocked her head. “How can you say that? No building lines up directly with this one.”

“A sniper doesn’t need a direct angle.” He rocked back on the heels of the loafers he’d changed into earlier. “I could make the shot from the roof of the structure to the right, no sweat.”

She peered over his shoulder to the rooftop of the closest apartment building. Chills swept over her despite the humidity. Great. Now she had to worry about snipers, too.

He drew the drapes closed, shrouding them in a false sense of intimacy.

“I’m starved.” Kyle flashed a breath-stealing grin.

She didn’t know if she’d get used to that. He’d been a constant distraction all day. She’d had to force herself not to glance at him during her surgeries for fear she’d make a mistake and slice where she shouldn’t.

She normally didn’t have a problem concentrating while performing an operation. In fact her single-minded focus set her apart from other doctors who liked to talk or listen to music during a procedure. Not her. She needed the room quiet so the patient had her complete attention.

But today...though Kyle had remained quiet and out of the way near the door as promised, he might as well have been wearing a neon flashing light. The man disturbed her on so many levels.

“We can order in or there’s a good Thai place around the corner,” she said, glad for the neutral subject.

“Thai sounds good. Plus, we can talk about how this is going to work. Set some ground rules.”

“Rules?”

His grin widened. “Yep.”

Her stomach clenched.

Needing some space, she said, “I’ll change and we can go eat.” And talk about the rules. Oh, joy.

She retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom and closed the door, grateful for the momentary respite from his overwhelming presence. There was something about him, his energy and charisma, that made the air around him vibrate. It was exhausting. And thrilling.

She quickly changed out of her hospital attire and into casual clothes. She hesitated before stepping out of her room. How was she going to survive the next few days with that hunk of a man in the other room dogging her every step? Physical distance from him wasn’t possible. He was here to protect her, and that meant sticking close. But she could keep an emotional distance. She was good at that.

* * *

Kyle studied the professional portrait hanging over the gas fireplace in Brenda’s living room. The image captured a very stern-looking man—who Kyle guessed was Brenda’s father—a perfectly coiffed dark-haired woman—presumably Mrs. Storm—and Brenda as a young woman. Probably late teens, Kyle decided.

Her raven hair was gathered to one side by a thin ribbon, her face fuller, her smile uncomfortable, as if she’d posed for far too long and wanted to escape. Brenda resembled both parents in various ways. She had her mother’s brunette hair, her father’s slim nose. The shape of her eyes was more her father’s, while the color was a tad darker than her mother’s.

He wondered what it had been like growing up with two parents. Two parents who cared.

He shook his head to dispel that mistruth. His mother had cared before she’d died. His father...not so much.

Thoughts of his past had no place in this assignment. He turned from the portrait and moved to look at more framed photos gracing the cream-colored wall leading to the hallway. Each photo was posed, with perfect lighting and perfect expressions. Not one candid shot among the lot.

In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing anything in the apartment during his security check that wasn’t perfectly arranged, perfectly ordered.

Very little to suggest someone actually lived here.

His gaze made a slow sweep over the condo. Except for her purse sitting on the little stand by the door, there was nothing personal in view. The place reminded him of a hotel suite.

Something was off here. From all accounts, Dr. Brenda Storm was a highly skilled surgeon sought after by the best hospitals in the world. She was paid well for her work and had prestige most would envy. Yet, she lived like a guest in her own home.

A door down the hall opened and Brenda emerged from her bedroom. She’d changed from the austere black outfit, which she’d put back on after discarding her operating scrubs, to a fitted navy skirt that showed off her curves admirably and white sleeveless blouse that made her look delicate. Her idea of casual?

A knock sounded on the door.

Kyle stilled, his senses at attention. “Expecting someone?”

Brenda shook her head, her eyes growing round. “No.”

Kyle motioned her back toward the kitchen. He approached the door from the side and peered through the peephole. An array of pink and purple flowers blocked the view. Whoever was on the other side of the door was holding a bouquet of flowers in front of his or her face.

“Know of anyone who would send you flowers?” he asked.

“No one.”

Kyle withdrew his gun.

Time to meet this threat head-on.

TWO

Kyle pressed his back against the inside wall next to Brenda’s front door. Nerves stretched tight, he regulated his breathing. Brenda’s life was at stake here. He needed to keep control of the situation. “What do you want?”

“Floral delivery,” came the muffled reply. “For Dr. Brenda Storm. Is she here?”

Wariness narrowed Kyle’s focus. She didn’t need to be home for the flowers to be delivered. He could have left them at the front desk. How had the guy slipped past the doorman?

Brenda moved forward. “Who—”

Kyle lifted a finger to keep her quiet. He waved her back again. She nodded and stepped closer to the kitchen archway. “She’s not available. Take them back.”

“I can’t. I’ve got a schedule to keep. My boss will have my head if I return to the shop without delivering them. Guy paid to have them delivered pronto.”

“Guy?” Kyle wasn’t sure he bought the story. “You have the name of who sent them?”

“Yeah.”

A heartbeat of silence passed. “Well, what’s it say?”

“You gonna open the door, or what?”

“No, you’re gonna tell me through it.”

“My hands are kinda full here, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Obviously, he knew Kyle was watching through the peephole. If he were an assailant, he knew he wasn’t going to have an easy time of it today. “Leave the flowers on the floor and back up ten steps.”

Kyle watched through the peephole. The flowers were lowered. A man wearing a black fedora perched low over gray eyes stepped back. He was older than Kyle would have thought, given the job. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, making an odd contrast with his hat. He held a clipboard and flowers.

“I said flowers on the ground,” Kyle repeated.

The vase of the flowers lowered to the floor.

Cautiously, Kyle opened the front door, careful to keep his weapon at the ready yet out of sight. One wrong move...

The delivery guy moved closer.

Kyle countered with a step forward, drawing on the guy.

“Whoa! Dude!” He raised his hands in the air. Fear widened the man’s gray eyes. “I need your John Hancock on the last line.” He lowered the clipboard slightly.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” Kyle grabbed the clipboard and inspected the form. It looked legit. So did the flowers. The name of the flower shop was emblazoned across the top of the form.

“How long have you worked for this store?” Kyle asked.

The guy swallowed. “A few weeks. I’m lucky to have a job in this economy.”

True enough statement. The state of the job market had hit everyone hard. Kyle signed for delivery. “So who sent them?”

The guy shrugged and gestured with his chin to the vase. “There’s a card.” He tried to peer over Kyle’s shoulder. “Is the doctor home?”

Shoving the clipboard into the guy’s chest and pushing him back another step, Kyle replied, “She’s not available.”

“You her boyfriend?”

Kyle narrowed his gaze on the man. “Time for you to go.”

The guy held up his hands. “Hey, man, just asking. Didn’t mean anything by it.” He retreated, going down the hall to the elevator, then disappearing inside.

Kyle stared down at the array of bright flowers. A small white envelope peeked out among the blooms. Squatting down, he inspected the water-filled, fluted clear vase. He scrutinized the blossoms, looking for anything suspicious. There didn’t seem to be any substance coating the petals. He didn’t see any hidden items that would suggest the flowers had been tampered with. He carefully ran a finger around the rim of the vase to check for wires or anything that would indicate the bouquet was rigged with an explosive device.

When he was satisfied that the arrangement wasn’t fitted to detonate, he lifted the vase and carried it inside the condo. Brenda stood stock-still in her kitchen, her hands gripping the marble counter, her knuckles white.

Her upset had his insides knotting. He wanted to ease her fears. “It’s okay. Guy’s gone.” He set the vase on the counter. “Nothing dangerous here but flowers.”

Wariness crossed her face. She backed away. “Who sent them?”

“There’s a note card,” he said. “Do you have a plastic baggie?”

She opened a drawer. Inside were neatly placed boxes of plastic bags. “Which size?”

“Sandwich.”

She withdrew one and handed it over. He tore off a paper towel from the dispenser near the sink and used the sheet to protect the tall plastic cardholder from his fingerprints as he lifted the thing from the flowers and set it on the counter. He’d worked long enough with several ex–law enforcement personnel to know how to be cautious and preserve possible evidence. Still using the paper towel, he removed the envelope from the prongs and flipped up the seal.

He slid the card-stock note out and read the scrawling words out loud. “Hope your day will be better now. Are we on for next Friday? It’s signed Sam.”

A frown pinched the space between Brenda’s winged eyebrows. “A doctor at the hospital.”

“Your boyfriend?” From the dossier he’d read on her, she wasn’t married, engaged or involved in a serious relationship that they knew of. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone in her life. Kyle didn’t understand why the thought bothered him. Of course Brenda had to be seeing someone. A looker like her couldn’t be unattached. She probably had a dozen men clamoring for her attention.

She gave a vehement shake of her head. “No. Not even close. He’s too...not my type.”

Now why did that please him? And just what was her type? Not that the type of man she dated mattered. His job wasn’t to pass judgment or probe his protectee’s psyche. Though if they’d met under different circumstances... He gave himself a mental shake. Not. Going. There. “This Sam would like to date you, though.”

She sighed. “He’s asked. Often. Wants me to go to the hospital fundraising gala with him next Friday. He can’t seem to get it through his brilliant thick skull that I’m not interested.”

“The gala is out.” No way would he let her go anywhere near such a security risk.

She frowned. “I have to be there.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. Your boss will understand.”

Her lips pressed into a firm line. A sign of acquiescence? He doubted it. But that was a battle they could have at a later date.

To preserve the note, he slipped it into the baggie and then placed it into his shirt pocket. “What’s this doctor’s full name?”

“Samuel Johnson.”

“I’ll have a background check run on him.”

She drew back slightly. “Sam would never hurt me.”

“Maybe the doctor has someone in his life who’d like to get rid of the competition. I need to know the players in this game.”

“Game? This isn’t a game! This is my life!”

The outrage and fear in her face twisted him up inside. He held out a hand, palm facing out. “Sorry, didn’t mean anything by that. Just a figure of speech. You’re right, this isn’t a game. I take it very seriously.”

Her lovely features turned stony. She went into the living room and sat on a plush chair. “I hate this. Hate feeling scared and out of control.”

He followed her and squatted beside her. “That’s understandable. And you’re doing great.”

“Yeah, we’ll see how I’m doing by the time this is done.” She scoffed and shook her head. “I can’t imagine living in fear for very long. Always wondering if the next knock at the door might be a deranged killer. Who knows what else this crazy person will try. Or who might get hurt because of me.”

“That’s why you have me. I’ll protect you. You might not believe it, but I’m very good at what I do.”

Her dark eyes searched his face. “Why do you do this? Work as a bodyguard, I mean?”

Uncomfortable with the focus turning to him, he rose. And deflected. He was good at deflecting. “Guy’s got to make a living.”

“There are other ways to make a living.” The studied way she peered at him made him think of microscopes and petri dishes. He wasn’t some bacterium she had to try to understand. “Less dangerous ways.”

A shudder worked its way through him. “Yeah, boring ways.”

He had no doubt that, being a surgeon, she saw the aftermath of dangerous careers and hobbies alike, which gave her a different perspective. She could never understand the inherent need to live life on the edge, to push as close to danger as possible, to risk life and limb to feel alive, to feel...something.

“Ah, you’re a thrill seeker, then.” There was just the barest hint of censure in her tone.

He grinned, undaunted by the disapproval. It wasn’t the first time a woman said that to him. It wouldn’t be the last. “Always looking for the next gnarly wave to come rolling in.”

“Gnarly, huh? You’re a surfer?”

“That obvious?”

A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth. He had the sudden longing to see a full-blown smile, to hear her laugh, to see her relax. So not what he should be concentrating on. Her physical well-being was his priority. Not her mental health.

“Yes, it is,” she admitted. “But I can’t imagine there’s much surfing in Boston. You must not have grown up there.”

“No, I didn’t. Southern Cal. On some of the best beaches in the world.”

A momentary bout of nostalgia hit. He missed the California sunshine and the smell of the Pacific Ocean. The Atlantic smelled different. Brinier. “There’s always windsurfing in Massachusetts. You can be at a great surf spot within two hours from downtown Boston.”

He remembered the last time he’d been out on the Atlantic Ocean planing across the tips of the waves, catching enough speed to loop. “Not quite the same rush as traditional surfing...but still fun.”

“How did you end up in Boston?”

She was full of questions, and that wasn’t a tale he cared to share. Revealing his painful past wasn’t part of his job description. He kept his life under wraps. Better that way. He’d hate to see the look of pity or judgment or both in pretty Brenda’s eyes if she knew how he’d ended up where he was. “Life. Funny how it works out sometimes.”

“Did you move there because of a wife or girlfriend?”

He arched an eyebrow. She was fishing to see if he was attached. Interesting. “No wife, no girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back.

She hesitated. “I’ve been focused on my career.”

“Ah. But someday you hope to get married?” He wondered what kind of man would snag the doctor’s heart.

“Don’t you?” she countered without answering his question.

“No,” he stated with certainty.

She studied him. “Why not?”

He thought about that for a moment. He wasn’t sure where his reluctance to relationships stemmed from. Maybe it was his parents’ rocky marriage before his mother’s death. Or maybe the way his high-school girlfriend, Anne Tucker, had stomped all over his heart when she’d gone to the prom with his best friend because Kyle hadn’t the money to pay for their ticket. She’d ended up pregnant that night. Kyle knew he’d dodged a bullet, or rather a situation that he wouldn’t have been able to handle. A kid at seventeen? No way.

Better not to get too involved with any woman and avoid such a sticky and permanent situation.

Realizing the doc was waiting for an answer, he went with the easy one. The one he knew would keep her at arm’s length. “I like playing the field. Keeping my options open.”

She stiffened. The corners of her mouth tightened. “What training do you have? How do I know my life is safe in your hands?”

Appeasing her curiosity and reassuring her he could protect her were two different things. He held his right hand up, his index and middle fingers in a V shape. “Cub Scout promise. I had my Bobcat pin within the first three months. Had it turned right side up by the next day.”

Irritation crossed her face. “I have no idea what that means.”

“You wouldn’t. You’re a girl. Only boys can be Cub Scouts.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever give a straight answer?”

“Not if I can help it.” He understood she wanted to know what made him tick, what made him qualified to protect her, what made him who he was. That was only natural. But he needed her to trust him without knowing the answers. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Trust me.” He made the Cub Scout sign again. “I promise.”

Her mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “What choice do I have?”

He grinned again. “Now that’s the spirit.” He sobered as he approached the next subject, prepared to do battle. “We need to figure out a more secure location for you.”

Dark eyebrows shot up almost to her hairline. “Excuse me?”

He knew that wouldn’t go over well. He gestured toward the covered window. “Too many places a sniper could take a shot from. The outside hallway’s too tight. A perfect place for an ambush. If we needed to escape, all anyone would have to do is pick us off as we came out the door.”

A visible tremor worked over her. “I don’t know where we could go.”

“The dossier said your parents have a home in Forest Park. The house is armed with a state-of-the-art alarm system.”

She shook her head. “I would hate to put them in danger.”

“It will be safer there.”

“I don’t know...”

He’d hoped to ease into this over Thai food. “It’s already been arranged.”

Her eyes widened with outrage. “You’ve spoken to my parents?”

“Trent is thorough in our protection.”

She made a face. “Unbelievable.”

“We’ve been here long enough. Do you want to pack a few things?”

“What choice do I have?” Anger laced her words.

Empathy twisted his stomach in knots. He knew firsthand how upsetting, annoying and humiliating it was to have someone else calling the shots. “It’s for your safety.”

“Of course it is.” Though the words dripped with sarcasm, her posture was resigned. She returned to her room. A few minutes later she came out carrying a small suitcase. “I have some clothes already at their house.”

“Do you want to keep the flowers?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Let’s leave them in the lobby.”

He wondered briefly if it was the flowers themselves or the sender she wanted to leave behind.

He escorted her to his rental car, a black Suburban. The modern, everyday version of the layman’s tank. He did a quick sweep of the exterior before allowing her too close to the vehicle. Checked the undercarriage, made sure the doors hadn’t been tampered with. Standard operating procedure. When he was sure the SUV was safe, he helped Brenda into the passenger seat.

As he drove he kept a vigilant eye out for a tail. Nothing. A half hour later they arrived at her parents’ Forest Park home. Behind a gated community, which provided twenty-four-hour security, the Storms’ residence was a large, gabled brick house with manicured hedges, Astroturf green lawns and flower beds with a kaleidoscope of colorful flora and visually interesting plants. A magazine-worthy home.

“Nice place,” Kyle commented. A far cry from the double-wide prefabricated place he’d called home as a kid. “You grew up in this house?”

“No. My parents bought this home after I’d graduated from med school.”

“Where did you live as a kid?”

She opened the passenger door. “Evanston.”

“Did you go to Northwestern?”

“I did. The university was practically in my backyard.” She climbed out of the vehicle and walked toward the house.

Kyle grabbed her suitcase from the back and followed her to the front door. Humidity made his shirt stick to his back. He glanced around, noting the quiet street and the other homes visible over the hedges marking the property lines. The hedges weren’t exactly the best for security—too many places a bad guy could slip through undetected.

He would have preferred a fence or a rock wall. Better yet, barbed wire.

Brenda opened the door. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.”

The temperature change between the outside and the inside was drastic. The sweat from the late-September humidity outside chilled on Kyle’s skin. Brenda rubbed her arms as goose pimples appeared.

As they stepped around the entryway corner, a well-dressed woman hastily shoved amber pill bottles into the drawer of the side table. A gray-haired man lay stretched out in a recliner. He adjusted the blanket covering him over his torso and legs. If he was cold, why not turn down the air conditioner? The place was like a meat locker.

“You’re here early,” her mother said, her voice sounding strained. Her red eyes made Kyle think she’d been crying recently. No doubt upset by Brenda’s brush with death.

The photos in Brenda’s apartment didn’t do Mrs. Storm justice. Kyle could see the resemblance between mother and daughter. Mrs. Storm’s dark hair was cut short to frame her youthful face. If not for the silver streaks, Kyle wouldn’t have guessed she was old enough to be Brenda’s mother. “We weren’t expecting you until later this evening. Are you all right?” Mrs. Storm asked.

“I’m fine, Mom.” Brenda went to her father’s side and pressed a hand to his forehead. “Dad, are you okay? You look feverish.”

Mr. Storm shooed her away. His eyes were not quite focused. “Stop your fussing. You’re not my doctor.”

“Just a cold, dear,” Mrs. Storm said quickly, though she wouldn’t meet her daughter’s gaze. “You know your father. Nothing for you to fret about.”

Kyle’s chest knotted at the hurt in Brenda’s pretty eyes as she stepped back.

“Brenda, please introduce your guest,” Mrs. Storm said.

“Mom, Dad, this is Kyle Martin of Trent Associates, the bodyguard the hospital hired,” Brenda said.

“We’re so thankful you’ll be protecting our daughter.” Mrs. Storm offered a smile.

“I will do my best, ma’am,” Kyle replied.

“Please call me Maggie.”

Mr. Storm held out a hand to Kyle. The effort seemed to cost him energy. Sweat beaded his forehead. “Mr. Martin.”

Kyle grasped the older man’s hand, noting how thin and fragile the bones felt. The man’s grip was stronger than Kyle would have thought given how ill he appeared. “Mr. Storm, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ned tells me you come highly recommended.” Mr. Storm’s gaze focused on Kyle. “Tell me what qualifies you to protect my only child.”

The man asked virtually the same questions as his daughter. “Ex–special operations, Navy.”

Releasing his hand, Mr. Storm gave an approving nod. “Excellent.”

One glance at Brenda told Kyle she wasn’t as appeased. He’d have some explaining to do. Came with the territory. “Glad we got that settled,” Kyle said. “I’m going to do a perimeter sweep.”

He lifted his right hand and gave a Cub Scout salute by touching his forehead with his index and middle fingers pressed together. He could feel Brenda’s gaze on his back as he walked out the front door. She’d have more questions. It seemed in her nature to be inquisitive. As long as she didn’t probe too deep, they’d get along fine.

* * *

“Something’s up with my parents. Dad doesn’t look good,” Brenda confided to Kyle later that evening when they were alone. Her parents had retired, leaving her and her bodyguard alone in the living room.

Here she was hiding at her parents’ house from some madman bent on hurting her, she had an annoyingly handsome protector by her side and her parents weren’t being straight with her.

She’d taken one look at her father when she’d arrived this afternoon and known he’d had a fever.

It was infuriating to stand by while her dad was sick and not be allowed to treat him. They’d spent tons of money for her to become a doctor, and though her specialty was general surgery, she was still an experienced physician able to do more than just cut people open. It hurt that even in this she didn’t measure up.

“You think it’s more than a cold,” Kyle said, his voice low. Light from the overhead track shone on him, shadowing his handsome features, making him appear mysterious.

Feeling a bit awkward with Kyle so close, she sat on the love seat, putting some distance between them. “They’ve both been acting so strange lately. We usually have Sunday dinner together, but the past two weeks they’ve canceled, saying they had something come up unexpectedly. A golf tournament one weekend and a retirement party the next. But...I’m not sure what to think. Dad’s lost a lot of weight. He’s never been heavy, but now he’s almost gaunt, haggard even.” Nothing like the stalwart, healthy man who’d taught her to sail.

“They’re your parents. Parents tend not to want to worry their children with their problems. Tomorrow you can ask more questions and press for answers.”

She heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I just wish I could do something now.”

“There’s nothing you can do tonight. He’s resting, and so should you.” Kyle held out his hand.

She slid her hand into his, and the roughness of his palm rubbed against hers, creating friction. Sparks shot up her arm as he helped her to her feet. Not unpleasant but very surprising. How could just holding someone’s hand create such chaos inside her? She’d never experienced anything like it before.

She extracted her hand. “You told my father you were ex–special operations for the Navy. What exactly does that mean?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “It means I’m special, in a good way.”

She shook her head. He’d been charming to her mother and respectful to her father all evening. But with her, he was the jokester. Why didn’t he want to talk about himself? Most men she knew did. “Seriously. What did you do in the Navy?”

“Swim.”

Exasperation sharpened her tone. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

His expression turned earnest. A look she liked on him. “I really did swim. My specialty was underwater reconnaissance and demolition.”

It sounded dangerous. But then she already knew he was a man who sought the rush, the buzz, of danger. It made for a great protector but not the type of guy a woman could pin her heart on. If she were interested in pinning her heart on any man. Which she wasn’t. “I’ll say good night now.”

“I’ll see you to your room,” Kyle countered. “After you.” He gestured toward the staircase.

He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he was sticking close. “I hardly think anything’s going to happen to me on my way to my room.”

“I’m cautious. Plus, I need to know where you are. Just in case.”

Just in case the lunatic after her tried something here in her parents’ home. She rubbed her arms, fighting back a shiver of fear. “My room’s the first one at the top of the stairs.”

She led the way upstairs. At her bedroom door, Brenda asked jokingly, “Do you need to check the room?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “What a good idea.”

Her mouth gaped. She hadn’t meant for him to actually do it.

He reached around her to open the door and brushed past her to enter the room. A second later he reappeared at the doorway. “No bad guys.”

“That’s reassuring.” She met his gaze.

The light from the hall heightened the blue of his eyes. They reminded her of a summer sky reflecting off Lake Michigan. The sudden longing to be out on the water, gliding through the waves, the sound of sails filling with the wind, gripped her.

Just her and the boat on open water as far as the eye could see.

She heard herself sigh. Saw the slow spread of a smile lighting up his face and realized what he must be thinking. Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She was not sighing over him. But telling him that would only sound lame. And make her sound like an idiot. “Good night, then.”

He set his hands on her shoulders. She sucked in a quick breath. Twin points of heat seared her flesh from where he gripped her with strong hands. With gentle pressure, he moved her aside so he could step into the hall.

A fresh wave of embarrassment flushed through her. She’d been blocking his path out of her room. He must think her a complete airhead. Or worse, that she didn’t want him to leave her alone.

Well, okay, maybe a part of her didn’t want him to go too far away. For safety reasons. Just in case. And if she kept telling herself that, maybe it would be true.

“Good night, Brenda. Sleep well,” Kyle said with a two-fingered salute.

She nodded like a bobblehead doll and watched him saunter down the stairs and disappear into the dark.

She sagged against the door frame. She had to get a grip. She would not be interested in her bodyguard. No matter how attractive he was. He was a danger junkie. Only here to protect her. Period. She wasn’t looking for a romance, a relationship or anything in between. With him or any man.

She’d been down that rocky path before and found herself at a dead end. She was not going there again.

As she slipped into her room and closed the door, she only wished her heart would stop racing every time he was near. It was only a biological response to an attractive man, but it sure felt like something more. Something she had no intention of pursuing.

* * *

After one more perimeter check, Kyle was satisfied the grounds of the Storm house were as secure as they could be with only the eight-foot-high laurel hedges as a barrier to the outside world. He dialed Trent offices. He stood in the shadowed driveway, listening to the ring of the cell phone pressed to his left ear, while keeping his gaze on the street. A few lights dotted houses down the block. Several houses over a parked car sat at the curb.

“Trent Associates, Simone speaking. How can we help?”

“Hey, it’s me,” Kyle said by way of greeting. The former Detroit homicide detective had joined Trent Associates around the same time he had. “How’s it going?”

“All’s quiet here,” she replied. “Everyone’s out in the field except me and James. How’s your assignment?”

“Interesting.” He quickly filled her in on Brenda and the case. “I need a couple of things checked out. Can you help?”

“Of course, anything for my favorite frogman.”

“Ah, you’re gonna make me blush,” he quipped. From the day they’d met they’d had a good-natured banter going. Simone was all sleek polish. While he was...well, himself. They couldn’t be more opposite. Brenda, in fact, reminded Kyle a little of Simone. The same quick wit and standoffish manner.

“First up a Dr. Sam Johnson, plastic surgeon at Heritage Hospital. Has a thing for Brenda and doesn’t seem to understand no. He’s probably not our perp, but maybe someone close to him wants Brenda out of the picture. Dig up whatever you can.”

“Got it. Next?”

“Her parents. I need everything you can find on them.”

“Wait, you want me to do a deep dig on her family? You think they’re behind the attempt on your

protectee’s life?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “But there’s something off. I’ve got a gut feeling that there’s more going on than they are saying. Mrs. Storm was quick to hide some medication when we arrived unexpectedly. Brenda says they’ve been acting strange lately. According to Brenda, her dad’s lost a lot of weight and was feverish tonight.”

“All right. I’ll do some digging, though you know with HIPPA I won’t get far on the medical,” Simone said. “Anything else?”

Kyle hesitated. Something niggled at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t put a bead on what was bothering him. “I’m good for now. But I’ll call if I have anything else.”

“Sounds good. Hey, Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay safe. I’m praying for you.”

He smiled, glad to know someone was putting in a good word with the man upstairs. Kyle prayed often, but sometimes God felt so very distant. Kyle had come to know the Lord at the Special Warfare Center in Coronado, California. There were days when his faith was the only thing that sustained him through the vigorous training and later combat. “You’re concerned about me? How sweet.”

He heard her exasperated sigh. “As I am for every member of the team.”

Kyle sobered. “I know. And I’m grateful.”

“Be careful.”

She’d shared her story with him after a harrowing assignment had left another team member in the hospital with a bullet wound. She’d lost someone close to her, someone she felt responsible for. Simone took everyone’s welfare very seriously. He appreciated that about her. “I will. You, too.”

“Thanks.”

Kyle hung up and stared at the house shrouded in darkness, his hinky alarm jangling. Just what were the Storms hiding? And was their secret the reason Brenda was in danger?

The house was quiet when he came back inside. Only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the slight creaking of the floorboards settling for the night kept the place from being completely silent. Kyle swept the downstairs, making sure all windows and doors were locked tight and the security alarm was set. He headed to the guest room on the main floor near the kitchen.

The room was done in muted tones of green and brown. More masculine than not, yet it wouldn’t necessarily be considered a man’s domain, not with the bits of lace on the cherry dresser, the painting of a field of flowers and a lazy creek on the wall and the ruffles on the accent pillows he’d tossed onto the wingback chair in the corner. Still, as digs went, this was cushy and more than adequate to provide a good night’s sleep.

He stretched out on the queen-size bed with every intention of relaxing. But his mind wouldn’t shut off. He kept reliving the moment upstairs when Brenda had sighed. Such a small sound, hardly worth noting. Except she’d been staring at him with such yearning on her pretty face, his ego had ripped the curl. He’d wanted to explore what that sigh meant. He hadn’t. And told himself he couldn’t. That wouldn’t be professional.

Giving up on sleep, he rose and dug through his “to-go” bag, double-checking his weapon and ammo. His hand brushed over the photograph he always kept with him. He didn’t need to see the image to recall the picture of him, his twin sister, Kaitlin, and his parents. Before his mother had taken ill. Before his world came crashing down in a fiery flame of heartache. He zipped the bag closed.

A high-pitched noise pierced the quiet of the night.

His heart jolted.

The house alarm had been tripped!

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