The Protector. Jule McBride
then did Judith register that her vision was blurry because tears had filled her eyes. She blinked them back. She hadn’t seen her mother or stepfather for years. Was she ready to risk betrayal and bring love into her life?
Pushing aside the question, she focused on two lovers below the window, happily holding hands as they walked along the crowded sidewalk. Her next thought was that Sheila Steele lived just around the corner. No doubt Sullivan lived nearby, too, since most officers, especially captains, lived in or near their precincts. In this city, he could have lived in the same building with Judith for years and she might never have realized it.
Sighing, she thought about Sullivan. He was thirty-seven. She knew because she’d checked his records, and judging by the hard glint in his knowing eyes, he was cynical and not getting any younger. Gray wisps painted the tips of the honey strands of his hair, and crow’s-feet were visible at the corners of his eyes, giving his face a rugged, weathered look. He was sexy, too—sexy as sin.
But she wondered if she looked as cynical as he. Her eyes drifted to the letter again. There was a seemingly nice man out there who liked how her personality sounded in the letters she’d written to him. Was she ready to meet him?
At the thought, abrupt, unexpected pain seared through her. For an instant, all the trauma of her past came racing back, and she felt alone, betrayed and broken. So alone, she thought. As if the whole world had been hollowed out and she’d been left in the emptiness. Every time she started to hope someone might love her, she was filled with pain—because with the hope of that came the fear of loss. It was so hard to admit how much she needed love….
She hadn’t mentioned her past to her correspondent, of course. She never would. But maybe she could open up to him just a little. If she didn’t start making an effort, she was going to wind up like Sullivan Steele, unmarried and hardened by a cop’s life. Guilt niggled at her again. Was her investigation going to shatter his trust in his parents? The way her own trust had been shattered?
She stared down at the letter again. If she agreed to meet her mystery man, at least she knew she’d be physically safe. She was well-trained in tai kwon doe, not to mention good old-fashioned street fighting. She also carried a gun.
Picking up a pen, she began to write.
Dear Mr. X,
I hope you don’t mind the name, but I never know what to call you. Maybe you’ll share your real name with me soon when we meet? Yes, I’ve given it some thought and think we should.
Pausing, Judith mulled over a date and place.
She wanted her next encounter with Sullivan Steele out of the way first, and because she was consumed with searching for his father, she’d be preoccupied the following week.
If I don’t hear from you, I’ll meet you on the Saturday after this coming one. At five-thirty in the evening, I’ll be in Central Park, on the bridge in front of Bethesda Fountain, overlooking the boathouse. I’m tall, with dark hair, and I’ll be wearing a red silk scarf, so you’ll know who I am.
And then, her heart pounding, Judith quickly sealed and stamped the letter before she could change her mind. It was time to move on from her past. She’d learned how to survive. How to make a good living. She was at the top of her profession.
Now she had to acknowledge that love was out there in the world, just waiting for her. The magical experience of finding a message in a bottle had started to convince her of that. What an unlikely thing to have happen!
Judith could only hope she’d be able to meet her mystery man with an open heart.
3
“HAVE YOU CHANGED your mind about us Steeles yet?” Sullivan asked as he and Judith strolled along the stone pathway that wound through the lush, thriving courtyard garden his mother tended behind the family’s three-story brownstone. By design, they’d dined late, after the sun went down, and they’d eaten dinner at a round glass table, where Sullivan’s brothers and their fiancées were still talking with Sheila, sipping ice-cold margaritas until they felt ready for dessert.
“I came to observe,” Judith said, “not draw conclusions—”
“How clinical. I feel like a lab specimen.”
“You may not like it, but that’s not far from the truth, Steele.” The cold fried chicken and Waldorf salad Sheila Steele served for dinner had calmed Judith’s nerves and mitigated her caustic tone, though not the words that came under her breath, so only Sullivan could hear. “And if anything, your lifestyle’s made me even more suspicious,” she admitted.
“Lifestyle?” He had the audacity to chuckle, and when the genuine merriment was undercut by the intensity of his gaze, Judith was reminded of their situation. Sullivan might be the perfect host, but he’d invited her here with an agenda—to get closer to her, so he could monitor the case. “Does that mean you find more than our humble home suspicious, Judith?”
“Humble home,” she muttered, slipping a finger beneath her hair to lift it off her neck for relief from the heat. “This is a mansion, Steele.” She made a point of eyeing him. “And look at your suit.” During dinner, he’d removed the jacket, but even wearing only a well-tailored shirt and tan, finely woven linen trousers that matched his hair and eyes, Sullivan looked every inch the king of the manor.
“My ex-girlfriend helped pick it out,” he explained defensively.
“Good taste.”
“Thanks.”
She was more curious than she wanted to admit. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Most men have them.”
“Did she break your heart?”
“Since when did you decide I have a heart, Judith?”
“Be serious.”
He considered. “We dated a long time, but…” Barely perceptibly, he raised his shoulders in a shrug, as if to say the relationship wasn’t one he’d thought about in some time.
“Bottom line,” she said.
“Not enough sparks.” He lifted an eyebrow. “You? Boyfriend?”
“Never,” she deadpanned, telling herself she hardly wanted to contemplate what enough sparks might mean for Sullivan Steele. Seeing his doubtful glance, she felt something unexpected and sharp pierce her insides. For the next second, it hurt just to breathe. She was beautiful; Judith knew that. She had thick dark hair, an arresting face and china-white, unblemished skin. Men had always chased her, many hadn’t wanted to take no for an answer, and most had assumed she had a lot of experience, which she didn’t.
For the duration of a heartbeat, she found herself wishing Sullivan was just a tad sharper, enough to see through her carefully erected facade. Deep down, that was her wish, wasn’t it? she admitted, her heart aching. Didn’t she want someone to break through her defenses and teach her to love again? Pipe dreams, she thought. In her experience men only got close enough to find out she was skittish around them, then they dropped her.
Sully was squinting at her. “Never?
When she brought her attention back to his face, she tried not to notice the soft, teasing light shining from eyes that were usually harder and more suspicious, and the playful lift of a mouth that was usually compressed into a serious line—at the precinct, anyway. “You’re the one who’s under suspicion, Steele, not me.”
“And what have you found out tonight?”
She was still surveying those eyes, that mouth. “That you soften at home,” she said honestly.
“Is that right?”
She nodded. “Like a teddy bear. But then,” she added, “looks can lie. Besides, a cop’s salary didn’t buy all this.”
He shot her a look of mock disappointment, shifting