Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Feelings are never ridiculous and too often they’re grounded in fact.”
Huge green eyes met his. “Yes, but in my case, I’m probably overreacting. It’s probably related to you.”
He could see she wasn’t comfortable with the admission. He was confused. “How so?”
She swallowed hard. “I hadn’t had an anxiety attack in a while, right? And then I met you and we have this instant attraction, and I discover you’re just like them. Next thing you know, boom. Another anxiety attack.” She gnawed on her lower lip as she explained.
“I’m just like who?”
“My parents. They lived for taking risks. And that’s what you do on your job, right? Take risks?” One hand reached out and touched his shoulder.
He felt the impact of her touch, the heat and the need, straight down to his toes, but her reassurance didn’t help. He was damn sure he didn’t like the comparison. “Difference is, I take certain risks in order to do my job, but I don’t take unnecessary ones. And I don’t do the job as a way of taking risks. Your parents did it for fun.”
“But you both knowingly, willingly, put yourselves in danger.”
He couldn’t deny the obvious so he remained silent. She’d equated him to her parents, two people she obviously loved but who’d let her down in the worst way. He’d just met her and was in this for a summer fling. So why did her analogy bother him so much?
“Look, all I’m trying to say is, thanks for listening to my foolishness. There’s a reason I panicked, and now that I talked it out I can put it and his disgusting tattoo behind me.”
“Tattoo?” Jake’s nerve endings went on alert, the reason for his wariness and churning gut all too apparent.
“Yes. I don’t know what made me think of it now. The guy was in one of those white tank tops, and he had a crooked arrow on his right arm. Biceps. Here—” She pointed to her right arm and shivered. “Tattoos always grossed me out.”
“Crooked arrow?” Jake asked tersely.
She nodded. “Like this—” She drew the shape with her hand.
Revulsion and fury raced through his veins. In light of Brianne’s history of well-founded anxiety, he had no intention of mentioning that the insignia on the pills he’d just found matched the tattoo on her stalker’s arm—the same tattoo that was on Ramirez’s right biceps.
He refused to enlighten her and worry her further. The desire to wrap her in his arms and guard her from harm was great. Brianne was no victim. Yet he needed to protect her both physically and emotionally. If she knew there was possible danger relating to Jake and his job, she might bolt. If she returned to her apartment, she’d be vulnerable to Ramirez and Jake would be unable to keep her safe. But if she remained in the penthouse, she’d be safe and secure, at least in the evenings.
As for daytime, Jake could cover her there as well. First thing in the morning he’d call in a favor and have a detective pal put a tail on her during the day. Thank God, Rina was in Italy, Jake thought. But Frank’s family wasn’t. Unwilling to take further chances, Jake decided to make sure they were covered as well. The department wouldn’t assign men on a hunch—they couldn’t afford the manpower. But both Jake and Frank had friends who wouldn’t mind doing the job. Meanwhile, Jake would step up his digging into Ramirez’s hangouts.
For now, he would placate her. “Plenty of men have tattoos. We’ll take your suggestion and forget about it, but if you see him again—”
“I’ll report directly to you, Detective.” She grinned and treated him to a salute. “But since I’m probably right, you can consider it forgotten.”
A touch of chocolate remained on her lips, daring him to reach out and lick it off with his tongue. Instead, he touched the pad of his finger to her mouth, wiping at the chocolate gently, savoring the soft feel of her lips and taking in the curtain of desire shading her eyes.
“Know what I’d like to do now?”
If her voice hadn’t dropped a husky octave, he’d have no idea. But it had, and the desire resonating in her tone renewed the heavy tempo beating inside him.
“What’s that?”
She drew a deep breath, and he understood being bold was new to her. “I’d like to go home.”
“And do what?” He had promised he’d take it slowly. She needed to set the pace, and Jake needed to hear her say the words that would free him from his hard-won restraint.
“Take me home and make me forget.” He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her meaning. And though her words came out a soft whisper, he heard them every place inside him where it counted.
His gaze never leaving hers, he pulled her to her feet so he could do as she asked. He would take her home.