Bulletproof Hearts. Brenda Harlen
an adversarial stance with her to avoid examining his feelings.
“I guess I should apologize,” he said, although she wouldn’t know he was referring to more than just his behavior at Merrick’s apartment.
She shook her head. “I just want to forget everything that’s happened in the past few hours.”
“That’s not likely. Not once the press starts sniffing around.”
She groaned. “I’ve stepped in it up to my knees, haven’t I?”
“Yeah, but you’re wearing nice shoes.” He’d noticed those immediately. Expensive designer shoes like the ones his sister Hannah favored. With skinny heels that added at least two inches to her height and emphasized her slender ankles and shapely calves. There wasn’t much about Natalie Vaughn he hadn’t noticed.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“In my job, if you don’t learn to find the humor in things, you don’t last very long.”
She pushed her plate aside. “How long have you been a cop?”
“Almost fifteen years.” He dumped salt on the potatoes left on her plate, then scooped up a forkful and brought them to his lips.
“You keep eating like that, you won’t last another fifteen,” she warned him.
He grinned. “It’s nice to know that you’re worried about me.”
“I just hate to think of the loss to the Fairweather P.D. if you die of heart disease.”
“Yeah.” He put his fork down. “Tierney might get my job.”
“I met him yesterday, at the courthouse.” She picked up her coffee cup, sipped.
“Then he stopped by your office this afternoon and invited you to dinner.”
She frowned. “How did you know that?”
“He told me he was going to.”
“Oh.”
“Obviously you turned him down.”
“I’m working sixteen hours a day, just trying to get up to speed on my files.”
“Is that the only reason you declined his invitation?”
“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” she reminded him. “And even if I wanted to, I don’t have time for complications in my life right now.”
Dylan didn’t think Ben wanted anything more complicated than sex from Natalie, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Not when he had to admit his own thoughts had gone down that same road. “Complications are what make life interesting,” he said instead.
“I’ll keep that in mind. But I’m a little too tired for a philosophical discussion right now.” She pushed her cup aside. “And I should try to catch an hour of sleep before I have to get ready for work.”
He nodded. “I’ll keep you posted on the Merrick investigation.”
“Thanks.” She slid out of the booth. “Do me another favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t tell Detective Tierney I had breakfast with you.”
He grinned. It was a tempting thought. “I think I can restrain myself.”
“Thanks,” she said again.
He watched her walk away, enjoying the subtle sway of her hips in the slim skirt and the flex of finely toned muscles in her calves.
Then he paid the tab and headed out of the diner to return to the scene of the crime.
Chapter 3
Natalie jolted at the quick knock at the door. She’d been jittery all day, unable to banish from her mind the sight of Roger Merrick’s bloodied body. Unable to stop thinking about Lieutenant Creighton’s reminder that she might easily have met the same fate on her nocturnal adventure.
“I heard you had some excitement last night.”
There was no sympathy in John Beckett’s clipped tone, nor had she expected any. She’d known this confrontation was inevitable, but her boss had been tied up with jury selection for a conspiracy trial all morning, thus allowing a brief reprieve.
“More than I wanted,” she acknowledged, careful to keep her tone light.
“Not even a month on the job and you stumble into the middle of a murder scene. The press is going to have a field day with this,” he grumbled.
“It’s not like I went out looking to find a dead body,” she pointed out.
“You went looking for trouble,” he insisted.
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Then your being in Roger Merrick’s apartment building at 1:00 a.m. was just an unfortunate coincidence?”
“You hired me to do a job,” she said. “That’s what I was doing.”
“Well, you made a mess of it, and you’re going to clean it up.”
“How?” she asked wearily.
“You can start with the press.” He dropped a fistful of pink message slips on her desk.
Natalie swallowed. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Molly is typing up your statement now.” He turned toward the door, pausing only long enough to offer a parting shot over his shoulder. “Remember—your position in this office is still a probationary one.”
She didn’t need the reminder—she was all too aware of how precarious her situation was, how easily her new life could come crashing down around her. Moving to Fairweather had been a big step, one she hadn’t taken without careful thought. As much as she’d been desperate to get her son out of the low-income, high-crime neighborhood in which they’d lived, she’d been wary of the offer.
You don’t get something for nothing, Shannon had warned.
Her sister was always spouting clichés. “Look before you leap” was another of her favorites.
But in this case, Natalie believed the trade-off was worth it. Getting Jack out of Chicago would be the best thing for him. She’d agreed to let him stay with Shannon until he’d finished out the school year, and to give Natalie a chance to find a home for them. It was all she really wanted—a place where they could both feel settled. And that would happen only if she managed to keep this job.
She shoved the stack of messages aside and buried her face in her hands. She didn’t blame her boss for being annoyed. She had overstepped her bounds. Her decision to meet with Roger Merrick had been impulsive and clearly—in retrospect, anyway—unwise. But Beckett had given her the case, and complete discretion to handle it. In fact, he’d seemed more than pleased to get the file off his own desk. If he hadn’t thought she was capable of doing the job, why had he given her the case? Why had he ever hired her?
She hadn’t gotten any further than these questions when an unfamiliar figure stormed into her office. Natalie hadn’t yet had the dubious honor of being introduced to Randolph Hawkins, but she had no doubt that the immaculately dressed man with silver strands woven through dark hair and cold blue eyes glaring angrily across her desk was the infamous defense attorney.
No, angrily wasn’t an accurate description, she realized. Dangerously was much more appropriate.
“You stepped over the line, lady.” The words were as sharp and cold as broken glass.
“My name is Natalie. Natalie Vaughn,” she told him. “And I’m guessing you’re Mr. Hawkins.”
“Then you’re not a complete imbecile, after all,”