She considered him for a long moment, as if wondering for the same fiery reasons he was how truly wise her offer had been. But rather than take it back, she left it there, an opening, an offer, a heady invitation that ripened in the air simmering between them. “I can walk you over, or we can go back to the clinic for your SUV.”
“Why don’t we do that,” he said, barely able to breathe. “I’ve got some files I’ll need anyway, and my laptop and fax machine.”
“Have electronics, will travel?”
“Not to worry,” he told her, smiling. “I still carry a gun.”
5
BY THE TIME JAMIE made it back to the office, the short clinic day was in full swing, and the hustle and bustle of colds and coughs and ear infections so crazy that she barely had time to think. Neither did she have time—nor opportunity—to tell the story of Kell’s visit to Roni and Honoria.
She knew both of her coworkers were curious, but the women also respected Jamie’s privacy; they let her know with smiles and quick hugs that anytime she might need them, and for whatever reason, they were there.Once the noon hour arrived and the clinic’s doors were locked for the day, leaving the women the rest of the afternoon free for phone calls and paperwork while Dr. Griñon drove to Alpine to golf, Jamie quickly explained that she’d be taking Thursday and Friday as personal days. Both women were more than willing to pick up the slack while she was gone.
She didn’t spell out what it was she would be doing, only that she had to go to Midland to do it. Assuring them she was not in any trouble and there was nothing for either of them to worry about, Jamie worked quietly until five, going through the most pressing items on her desk before heading home.
Where Kell was waiting.
She had tried—and failed—to forget he was at her cottage, sitting at her kitchen table with his laptop, pacing the short hallway while making his calls, perched on the edge of the sofa watching cable news while adding details of their trip to his BlackBerry.
All of that was her imagination, of course, because she had no idea how he’d been spending his time. The only thing she knew for sure was that he’d be staying the night. Just the thought had her slowing her steps as she crossed Brick Avenue and continued her walk to Lamplighter Lane.
As Jamie Danby, she’d had very few men in her life. For a year she’d dated Stuart Pearson who managed the Village Greenhouse Co-op south of town. Stuart had been nice, a great guy, patient and kind, and because he’d been all of those things, Jamie hadn’t thought it fair to load him down with her baggage. They’d parted amicably and remained friends; she took the fact that the breakup hadn’t caused more than an uncomfortable twinge as a sign she’d done the right thing for both of them.
Things had been much different when she’d still been Stephanie Monroe. During those days, girlfriends, boyfriends and her social life had been her number-one priority. She’d never spent a Friday or Saturday night alone, and spent more weeknights partying than in study or sleep.
It was hard to believe she’d been that girl, to think back on the number of friends she’d had then when she had so few now. And as far as not having men in her life, or even one good man to make her forget those who’d come and gone, well, at least as Jamie she was safe.
Or she had been until Kell Harding had walked into the clinic. Now she didn’t know what she was. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would do his best to make sure she came to no harm. The doubts crept in when she began to wonder if his best was good enough.
Would anyone’s best be good enough? Or was her best bet for keeping danger at bay to continue as she had been, relying on herself and her mother and their combined instincts for survival?
It was the thought of Kate Danby that had Jamie’s steps slowing. As much as she owed it to herself—and to the families of those who had died the night she had lived—to help close the Sonora Nites Diner murder case for good, she owed it to her mother most of all.
Kate had given up everything to keep Jamie safe, including the Sonora veterinary practice where she’d gone to work after graduating from Texas A&M, and where she’d eventually become a partner.
For ten years, Kate’s life had been Jamie’s life, and it was time Jamie released her mother from the obligation to protect her Kate had assumed. Of course, Kate had done so out of maternal love; Jamie got that. But now it was time for the mother to let the daughter give back.
That left only Kell. The part where he was going to work her case wasn’t an issue; she was committed to following his lead, his suggestions, his orders. He was a professional, unsolved crimes his business.
No, she found herself dreading the next couple of days in his company because having accepted her fate as a singleton, it wasn’t easy to come face-to-face with what she was missing in such a very big way. In such a fit and gorgeous and amazingly kind way.
When she turned the corner onto Lamplighter Lane and saw his big four-wheel-drive vehicle hulking in front of her cottage, she stopped walking and stood there, imagining for a moment what it would be like to come home to that sight every day. Come home to him every day.
Was it something she would ever grow used to? Or take for granted? Having a man like Kell Harding in her life? Being resigned to living alone, she couldn’t imagine doing either one, but he wasn’t in her life, not in that way, and her daydreaming wasn’t productive. She shook it off, continuing down the sidewalk to her back door.
That was when the fantasy and the reality collided. She stopped on the top of the three concrete steps that led from her driveway into her kitchen; the screen door bounced against her rump because she had yet to move. The room smelled like heaven. She rarely cooked. She was one person, easily pleased with a sandwich, and she hated the heat of the stove. But the smell was only half the picture.
The real picture was Kell.
He’d taken over her kitchen. He was tall; his boots made him taller. She’d seen his jeans and white dress shirt before, but this was different. He was in her house, cooking, his long sleeves cuffed up his forearms. He had nice forearms, dusted with dark hair, muscled, a road map of veins in relief beneath his skin.
His hands were large, dwarfing the slotted spoon he held as he lifted home-cut fries from a skillet to drain. He salted them, peppered them, added garlic and what looked like paprika, but could just as easily have been cayenne.
He opened the oven door then, and slid two steaks beneath the broiler before pulling a big bowl of tossed salad from the fridge. That was when he turned, when he killed her with his smile, and with his eyes that twinkled like the stars over the mountains at night.
“Looks like I timed things pretty well.”
He had. Perfectly. She came the rest of the way into the kitchen and shut the door on the heat of the day. The heat in the kitchen she could handle. As long as she kept it in the kitchen, and didn’t start wondering if Kell was as clever in the bedroom. She was a spinster, remember? And he wasn’t here to have sex.
Before she could do more than set her bag on the antique washbasin where she kept her keys and her cell charger, and where she dropped the day’s mail, Kell had returned to her cupboards for salad bowls, dinner plates, and grabbed knives and forks from the right drawer without second-guessing.
Just as if he lived here. Just as if he’d been the one to decide where things would go.
She arched a brow, tried not to show all of the appreciation she was feeling. She couldn’t let herself get comfortable having him here when it was only for one night. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
“Only in the kitchen. I swear,” he said, giving her a wink before turning back to the broiler and the steaks. “Well, I did use the facilities, but I washed my hands and aimed true.”
Oh God. He was cute, and funny, made jokes at his own expense, and confident enough to take over her kitchen without asking. She really needed to stop noticing, to remember he was a Ranger sergeant and here for only one thing. And that one thing wasn’t dinner, nor was it her.
She headed for the fridge and the pitcher of tea there, was reaching for two plastic tumblers in the cupboard when she and Kell touched. He turned from the stove with the basket of home fries. She took a step in the same direction at the same time, and he reached to stop her from tripping over his feet.
It was nothing but his hand on her arm, his thumb brushing her breast accidentally, yet she felt the shock of electricity deep in her core, saw the same jolt spark in his eyes. She wanted to shake it off, to smile and put the tea on the table, to talk about the weather or the case. He still held her, however, his fingers flexing, as if he didn’t know how to let her go, and when he finally did, she sensed regret.
“Sorry about that.” He set the fries on the table, and made sure to step around her when he went back to turn the steaks. “I’m used to navigating a one-man kitchen.”
She gathered herself close. “Hey, at least you’re navigating. I don’t do much more than make a beeline through the room to the door.”
“You don’t cook?” he asked, closing the broiler.
“How much of what we’re about to eat, and thank you for that—” she stopped to add along with a nod “—did you have to go out and buy?”