Witness... And Wife?. Kate Stevenson
“Thanks.”
“Just make damned sure she stays out of trouble.”
“Guaranteed.” Luke unfolded himself from his seat, ignoring the chief’s snort of disbelief. “And if I can’t, you’ll be the first to know.”
“She won’t appreciate it, you know.”
The chief’s words halted Luke as he reached for the doorknob.
“She never did like you interfering. I never met anyone so headstrong—” Bradley shot him a sly look from beneath bushy brows “—except for a certain bullheaded detective.”
Luke acknowledged the truth of his statement with a wry smile. He was bullheaded. No doubt about it. Which was exactly why he could handle Cassie. Resolutely he shut his mind to a voice that reminded him of the many occasions when he’d been less than successful handling her.
It wouldn’t be easy. Nothing concerning Cassie ever was. But, by God, this time he’d make sure she was all right, no matter how furiously she resisted his efforts.
As he left the office, he thought he heard Bradley chuckle.
“So when does she get here?”
“Who?” Luke watched Cassie stretch to retrieve two ceramic mugs from her kitchen cupboard, her shorts riding high on her bottom. She had no right looking so good when she’d been released from the hospital only this morning.
“My bodyguard—protector—whatever you call her.” Her bare heels plopped to the floor, and she threw him a puzzled look.
He swallowed, his mouth dry. “Oh, her.”
A scratching sound saved him from an immediate answer. Grateful for the reprieve, Luke opened the unlocked back door and let Duffy in. Knowing from past experience it would do no good to lecture Cassie about her bad habits, he merely closed the door and threw the bolt. The terrier bounced around him, his tail wagging furiously. Luke leaned down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“I can see he really missed me,” Cassie said, arching one delicate brow.
Luke shot her a sheepish look, remembering how the puppy he’d given her for a birthday present, the same puppy whose affection she’d courted with biscuits and hugs, had always preferred Luke’s company. “He just remembers I fed him last.”
“Right.” She poured coffee and brought it to the table. As she settled into her seat, Duffy wiggled past her and waited expectantly next to Luke’s old chair. Luke reluctantly took his assigned place, wondering how long it would take for Cassie to return to her original question.
Not long.
She stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, then looked up. “Well, when does she arrive?”
Luke met her curious gaze and decided to get it over with. “She’s here.”
“Where? Outside?”
“No, here.”
Her mug poised halfway to her lips, Cassie glanced toward the living room, then back at Luke.
“No.” He shook his head. Shifting one ankle to rest on the opposite knee, he dropped his bombshell. “She’s a he. Me. I’m your surveillance.”
Disbelief clouded Cassie’s expression. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Luke shook his head.
“Chief Bradley assigned you?”
“Yep. At least, when I’m not needed on the investigation.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And if I say no?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“But I don’t want you,” she snapped, slamming down her mug for emphasis. Brown liquid sloshed onto the oak surface of the table.
“Too bad, baby. You’ve got me.”
She glared.
Luke feigned stony indifference. This was one battle she wasn’t going to win, no matter how hard she fought, because he was doing this for her own good.
Cassie was the first to look away, down at the puddle on the table. Her mouth tight, she grabbed a rag from the counter and dabbed at the mess, as though the spill was her biggest concern.
Luke knew she was using the time to regroup.
He waited while she tossed the rag into the sink. Waited while she stood with her back to him, staring out the kitchen window. And waited while she returned to her chair and studied her mug in silence.
He recognized the strategy as one of his own. Forcing the suspect to wait, stretching minutes till they seemed like hours, raising the anxiety level. She wasn’t half-bad at it. Even though he was aware of what she was doing, his nerves felt like strings on a fiddle, anticipating the bow stroke.
“There’s no way I can change your mind?”
“Nope.”
She gritted her teeth, releasing an exasperated breath of air. “So I’m supposed to sit around all day, staring at the walls.”
“No,” he replied, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a grin. “Just when I’m not here. When I am, you can stare at me.”
The look she threw him was murderous. “This may be funny to you, Luke Slater, but I’m dead serious. I can’t stop living my life because of some nebulous threat. I have a job, a social life….”
Something twisted inside him. He’d spent the last two years censoring his thoughts about who she might be seeing, who now shared her bed. Too much of a realist to believe she’d remained alone and celibate, he still wasn’t prepared to hear details. “Don’t worry,” he told her grimly. “I don’t plan to play chaperon to you and your current boyfriend.”
Indignation crossed Cassie’s face. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak, he cut her off. “As for your job, have you considered the possibility that Wainright’s death might have something to do with what he wanted to see you about?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There could be dozens of motives for his death. Revenge, for instance. Or robbery—maybe he interrupted someone in the process of burglarizing his office.”
“We checked that angle with his secretary. Nothing was taken. No files were missing. No jewelry. He still had two hundred dollars in his wallet.”
“Maybe my arrival scared the robber off.”
He knew from her haunted expression that she was grasping at straws. Cassie didn’t want to believe Wainright’s death had anything to do with her, but even she wasn’t naive enough to believe a burglar would choose the Justice Center as a good place to pick up loot. He locked gazes with her and let his silence refute her reasoning.
Biting her lip, she looked away, but not before he caught the shimmer of tears in her emerald eyes. As she gazed unseeing out the window, Luke fought back an overwhelming desire to erase the stricken look from her face. He longed to trace the curve of her cheek and feel the velvet of her lips turn into his palm, seeking the comfort he could offer.
He didn’t dare. For her own good, she had to face facts, had to accept reality, no matter how harsh.
Cassie took a deep breath, then slowly released it. Her expression, when she caught his gaze, was calm.
Too late, a cold shiver of premonition shot through him. He stiffened, primed to speak, to defuse the quiet determination he read in her eyes.
“I’m going to finish my articles.”
Chapter 3
“Damn it, Cassie.” The chair legs screeched on the linoleum as he leaped up. Startled, Duffy scrambled to his feet, shooting Luke an injured look. Cassie