Lisa Childs - Watching Over Her

He had some scrapes, a couple of first-degree burns. “It’s nothing.”

She shuddered. “When that roof caved in, I thought you were gone. And then when we heard that radio call...”

“About the castle tea?” he teased.

But she didn’t laugh. In fact, her eyes glistened with tears. “I was so scared.”

He drew her against him and held her close. “I hate that you were scared.”

But he was scared, too. He was scared that he’d irrevocably fallen for her.

“Make me forget my fears,” she challenged him. “Make me forget about everything but you. Make love to me...”

He couldn’t refuse her wishes. He helped her off with her clothes and then helped her into bed. Joining her, he kissed and stroked every inch of her silky skin. And with every kiss and every caress, she gasped or moaned and squirmed beneath him. Then she caressed him back, running her soft hands over his back and his hips and lower. She encircled him with those hands. He nearly lost his mind, but he fought for control. He wanted to give her pleasure.

So he made love to her with his mouth. She cried out. But this was a cry he loved to hear from her—a cry of pleasure as she found release. Then, carefully, he joined their bodies. He tried to move slowly and gently.

But she arched and thrust up her hips. And her inner muscles clenched around him, tugging him deeper inside until he didn’t know where she ended and he began. They were one. And as one, they reached ecstasy—shouting each other’s name.

He held her close as they both panted for breath. He held her and waited—for the next attempt on their lives. He didn’t know if it would be another fire or more shooting. He didn’t know what it would be; he just knew that it would happen. As if on some level he had known that he would fall for Maggie Jenkins.

She had taken his heart. Now he just had to hold on to his life...

Chapter Twenty

Maybe it had been only days. But it felt like weeks since Maggie had last seen Blaine. She knew he was busy working the case. He had explained that he had to hand off her protection to someone else so that he could focus.

Had she distracted him?

She was working again, too. But she was preoccupied by thoughts of Blaine. It wouldn’t matter how long she went without seeing him; she knew she would never not think of Special Agent Blaine Campbell.

A noise at her office door startled her, and she jumped.

“Sorry,” the bank manager said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s not your fault,” she assured him. Even though no attempts had been made to kidnap or kill her the past few days, she was still on edge. Still waiting for the robbers in their hideous masks to burst through the bank doors or into her apartment with their guns drawn.

“Has everything been all right?” he asked.

She nodded instead of uttering a lie. Because everything was not all right—not without Blaine. She ached for him.

“Things are back to normal now,” Mr. Hardy said with a sigh of relief as he gazed around at the bank. The glass had all been repaired. Everything was back in its place as if the robbery had never happened. “And with one of the robbers found dead, maybe the others have gone into hiding.”

“Agent Campbell will catch them,” she said with unshakable confidence.

“Hopefully,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. “I understand that the robber that was found dead was related to you.”

“No,” she said.

“Well,” he said again, his voice rising with a slight whine, “he would’ve been had your fiancé not died.”

She wouldn’t have married Andy, though—even after finding out she carried his child. She hadn’t wanted friendship love in her marriage; she’d wanted passionate love. She had wanted to be in love, not just to love someone. She had finally found that with Blaine, but he didn’t want the instant family he would have with her. He probably didn’t even want a relationship. He was totally focused on his career—so much so that she hadn’t even heard from him.

Mr. Hardy was looking at her strangely. Then Maggie recognized the suspicion. “I was not involved in the robberies,” she said. “I had nothing to do with them.”

Except for those damn letters she’d written. Did he know about those, too?

He nodded. “Of course you didn’t...”

But she heard the doubt in his voice. “I need this job, Mr. Hardy. I wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize it.”

“Susan Iverson thinks you may have been involved with that man.”

“Susan may have been,” Maggie said. “But I wasn’t. He’s just someone I used to know.” And apparently she hadn’t known him nearly as well as she’d thought she had. “Like Susan, he proved to be someone I couldn’t trust.”

“She claims that the agent totally misread the situation when he found her in your apartment—”

“Stealing my engagement ring,” she said.

“She assured me she wasn’t stealing it,” he defended the blonde bank teller. “That she was only looking for evidence that you were involved in the robberies.”

Maggie shook her head. She’d had enough of people lying and scamming her. “She used my credit cards,” she said. “She can’t explain that away.”

“You owed her rent money.”

Anger surged through her, and she stood up. “That’s a lie. And if you choose to believe her lies over me, maybe I don’t need this job as much as I thought.”

He held out his hands. “Calm down, Maggie. I know this is an emotional time for you. Susan needs her job, too, and if you drop the charges against her, I think you could work together again.”

Blaine had caught the woman in the act of stealing. It wasn’t up to Maggie whether or not charges were pressed. But she didn’t bother explaining that.

“Why are you defending her?” she wondered. And then, as color flooded his face, she realized why. He was involved with the young teller. “Oh...”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking,” he said fearfully, as if he actually did know, “but you’re wrong.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Especially if he had betrayed his wife with the blonde opportunist. “There actually is evidence against her, and she will be prosecuted. I couldn’t drop the charges even if I wanted to.”

Maybe Susan had been involved in the robberies, too. Maggie wouldn’t put anything past the woman. She was a user. Mr. Hardy would figure that out soon enough. Disgusted with him, she grabbed her purse and said, “I’m going home.”

“Yes, get some rest and think about it,” he suggested.

Maybe Maggie needed to return to the branch where she had previously worked. She couldn’t work for Mr. Hardy anymore. She couldn’t work with Susan Iverson. Maybe she needed to join her parents in Hong Kong. It wasn’t as if Blaine would miss her. He had gone days with no contact.

As she headed out the door, her new protector followed her. The burly young man, Truman Jackson, was something with the Bureau—maybe a new recruit. Since there had been no recent attempts to grab her, she doubted they would have wasted a special agent on babysitting duty. She had been lucky to have Blaine as long as she had.

“Are you all right, Miss Jenkins?” the young man asked as he helped her into his unmarked vehicle.

“Maggie,” she corrected him as she had the past few days. “And I’m fine.”

“But you’re leaving early...”

She hadn’t done that the past couple of days. In fact, she had worked late, trying to catch up from the time the bank had been closed for repairs.

“I’m tired,” she said. And that was no lie. She was exhausted. From looking over her shoulder. From worrying.

From missing Blaine.