Ann Peterson: Secret Protector

“Let me see you to your car.”

She flicked her eyes back to his, her expression carrying a hint of question but not the suspicion that had been there earlier. “That’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is. I need to know you’re safe. I couldn’t live with myself if I just walked away and something happened to you.”

She raised her chin as if she’d figured him out. “Because I’m the new boss’s sister and an executive at Kendall?”

“No. I suppose that’s a good reason, but it’s not my primary one.” Of course, technically, protecting the boss’s sister was his reason for being there, but the words felt good on his tongue.

She tilted her head to the side and arched her eyebrows as if waiting for him to come clean.

“Let’s just say I’ll be thinking about you all night. I don’t want those thoughts to be laced with worry.” It sounded like a line, and as soon as he’d said it he’d wanted it back. The ironic thing was, it was one of the first honest things he’d said to her.

Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, ANN VOSS PETERSONwanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasn’t a practical choice—one needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs, including proofreading legal transcripts, working with quarter horses and washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination: romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at ann@annvosspeterson.com or visit her website at www.annvosspeterson.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To those who put others before themselves.

The definition of a hero.

If Natalie didn’t need an infusion of caffeine so badly she could barely see straight, she’d walk out of the coffee shop right now, despite already having paid for her latte.

She checked her watch and tried to resist the urge to tap the toe of her pump on the tile floor. She could feel the man next to her give her a once-over. Dressed in jeans, with shirttails hanging out and shoes that looked more like slippers than street wear, he was probably thinking she was uptight.

He was probably right.

Six foot, thin build, he was also kind of cute, at least in an ordinary sort of way.

What the heck? She was usually drawn to the good-looking ones. Maybe it was past time to shake things up. Taking a deep breath and curving her lips into a smile, she gave him a glance.

He looked away.

Figures. Natalie’s luck with men was right up there with her talent for finding short lines.

She peered at the darkness outside the coffee shop’s glass doors. Jolie would be finished trying on bridesmaids’ dresses before Natalie even reached the bridal shop. And Rachel would surely be finished with the fitting for her wedding dress. Natalie wouldn’t even get a glimpse. She was on schedule to let down both her future sisters-in-law and disappoint herself, and for what?

Caffeine was a horrible addiction.

“Double shot, low-fat latte?” The barista raised a pierced brow and plunked the cup on the counter.

Natalie flashed her best imitation of a grateful smile, picked up the coffee. She dodged her fellow addicts and pushed out the door, chimes jingling in her ear.

A chill wind hit her face. November in St. Louis was unpredictable, but one bit of weather that she could count on was that winter would eventually arrive. Apparently it had sometime in the past half hour. Using her free hand to wrap her trench more tightly around her, she made a mental note to dig out her wool coat before work tomorrow.

Her heels clacked hollow on the sidewalk. Dark windows stared down at her from all angles. City noises drifted on the breeze, sounding as if they were coming from the riverfront, blocks away. The temperature wasn’t the only thing to have changed in the time she’d been stuck in the coffee shop. Since she’d last walked the three blocks from the office, the business district seemed to have vacated for the night.

The bell on the coffee shop’s door jingled, as someone followed her into the cold.

She crossed the side street midblock and headed back toward Kendall Communications and the executive parking garage. The drive to the bridal shop wouldn’t take long. And Jolie would try her dress on again, if need be. The night was looking up.

The sound of footsteps shuffled behind her.

She glanced back. The silhouette of a man strode along the sidewalk. Tall, thin, shirttails flapping in the breeze. Must be the guy from the coffee shop, although on second glance, his hands were empty. Shouldn’t he be carrying a cup?

She quickened her pace.

She was being silly. She knew it. But there was something about the dark and the quiet and the cold that set her nerves on edge. She just needed to get to the Kendall building. There she could duck into the parking garage and the guy behind her would continue down the sidewalk to wherever it was he was headed.

She turned the corner, half expecting her follower to walk right past.

He made the turn, as well.

She forced herself to breathe slowly, in and out, countering the patter of her heartbeat. People walked down the same streets all the time. She was being silly. Here she hadn’t even had a sip of coffee and every nerve in her body felt like it was buzzing. Maybe she didn’t need the extra jolt of caffeine after all. Maybe tonight she was twitchy enough without it.

The darkened tower of her family business loomed ahead. She walked a little faster in spite of herself. With any luck, the parking attendant would still be at his post. He would smile his usual friendly smile, and she would chuckle to herself about how paranoid she was being. She didn’t know why she felt so afraid of a guy that just a moment ago she’d thought was kind of cute. Sure, when it came to choosing men, she was a horrible failure. But that didn’t mean just because she glanced this guy’s way he would turn out to be a mugger.

She passed the stairwell leading to the parking garage’s lower level and made for the car entrance and the attendant. She turned the corner and looked to the booth.

It was empty.

Natalie’s mouth went dry. She spun around, certain the man would be behind her, a gun in his fist or maybe a knife, his lips pulling back in a sinister smile.

The sidewalk was empty, as well.

She waited. Ten seconds. Twenty. No one appeared.

He must have turned off. He must not have been following her after all.

She was obviously losing her mind. Understandable, she supposed. Ever since Rick Campbell had been exonerated in her parents’ murders two months ago and then was killed himself, the entire Kendall clan had been on edge. Murder did that. If any family knew that, it was theirs.

On top of that, two of her three brothers, Ash and Devin, had lived through horrors of their own in the past two months. Horrors they’d thankfully overcome. Both now engaged to women they loved, her two oldest brothers had been blessed as well as challenged. But the deaths of their parents continued to hang over the entire Kendall family like a shroud.

She shook her head to dislodge shadowy thoughts she’d been trying to banish for twenty years. As if a mere shake of the head would do that. The only thing that worked was painting. Turning her childhood fears and guilt into images. Getting them out of her head, onto canvas and shutting them away in her studio where no one could see them.