Eileen Wilks - Just A Little Bit Married?

He smiled. “That’s an admirable attitude, but not very sensible under the circumstances.”

“I’m always sensible.” Her voice was Southern-belle soft, but her accent was pure, clipped Yankee. It was a strangely appealing combination.

“Then you’ll go to a safe house.”

“No. I have a job to do.”

He shook his head. It bothered him that he couldn’t remember her. He was used to relying on his memory for people. But she didn’t look like a doctor, much less one who specialized in the bloody drama of a hospital emergency room. Her eyes were too big and innocent. Her clothes were just too big.

“No one is indispensable,” he told her. Her pants were baggy khakis. Her white shirt was so loose it hid the existence of her breasts entirely, but he’d seen her in a swimsuit. He remembered their shape, small and firm, nicely molded in powder-blue Lycra right down to the hard little nipples. “No one is indispensable. The hospital can do without you for a few days while Tom gets this straightened out.”

“It might be more than a few days, though, mightn’t it? And you’re wrong. In the ER, the presence or absence of key personnel can be the difference between life and death.”

“Your presence will make a big difference, all right, if Javiero comes after you while you’re at work.”

“He wouldn’t—”

“He did once, didn’t he? That’s how this all started. He’d already tangled with his rival once that night, and when the man came to your emergency room to get his ribs taped up, Javiero followed with his Uzi.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that he’s more apt to come after me here, at home. Security has been stepped up so much at the hospital. There’s no reason for him to—to make things hard on himself. Anyway, I doubt very much he knows who I am.”

“You’re willing to risk people’s lives based on your assessment of the situation?”

“I risk people’s lives based on my assessment of their situation every day.”

Raz ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t picture it. He just couldn’t picture this soft little creature cracking a man’s rib cage so she could get to his heart. “You mean you use your professional judgment every day. Why won’t you trust ours?”

“I’m sorry,” she said in that deceptively soft voice. “The hospital is already short on staff. I’m needed there. But...” She paused. “If Detective Rasmussin finds evidence that indicates Javiero does know my identity, I’ll reconsider.”

God, she was stubborn. And he was getting hard, for no reason at all. His reaction infuriated him. “You won’t be able to do your job with a couple dozen slugs in you.”

Her pale cheeks turned paler. “If you and the other officers do your job, that won’t happen, will it?”

Tom broke in. “Raz won’t be working with the other officers, Dr. Grace. As I said, I can’t assign you round-the-clock protection. I know you weren’t very happy at the idea of hiring a bodyguard—”

“I’m not.” Two faint spots of embarrassed color appeared on her cheeks. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No problem. Like I was saying, I know you aren’t crazy about having a bodyguard underfoot all the time. That’s why I brought Raz to meet you. He’s on leave right now, so he could take a private job.”

She looked at Tom in disbelief. “You mean—you mean you want me to hire him?”

“Hey,” Raz protested. “I’m not so bad. Honest.”

Tom shot him a look that told him to keep his big mouth shut, then said to her, “Would you like me to pour you a cup of your coffee while we talk about this? It’s pretty good stuff compared to what I get down at headquarters.”

She smiled shyly and, at last, moved into the room. “Please. And refill your own cup, too, if you like.”

So, Raz thought, Sara Grace might argue with him, but she smiled at his brother. It was supposed to be the other way around. Women generally liked Raz, while Tom made them nervous.

He noticed something else, too. “You don’t need to use your cane all the time?”

She shot a quick, surprised glance his way and paused near the table. “I don’t have to use it at all. It just helps, especially if my hip’s sore. The ER was busy last night, so I was on my feet a lot.”

So the problem was with her hip, not her leg. “I guess you were at work when Tom told you about the other witness. The one Javiero shredded last night.” He wanted her to face the reality of what she risked with her refusal to go to a safe house.

“As it happens, I was on duty when they brought his body in.”

Raz felt foolish. For a moment he couldn’t think of anything to say. Belatedly, his mother’s training came to his rescue. He pulled out one of the ladder-back chairs and held it for her.

Now she looked at him—a suspicious look, as if she thought he might jerk the chair out from under her as soon as she tried to sit down.

He shook his head, torn between amusement and chagrin. “Sit down and we’ll talk,” he said, offering her one of his best guy-next-door grins. “You can point out some of my shortcomings and I’ll listen, then I’ll try to persuade you to hire me, anyway. I’ll promise not to pounce if you will, too.”

She blushed. With color staining her cheeks she was as helplessly charming as a three-week-old kitten or a dandelion puff. Raz looked at soft skin flushed in a delightful mimicry of arousal, and a beast woke inside him. A selfish, hungry, very male beast.

He forgot to keep smiling. Fortunately, she’d turned away to sit in the chair he held. He slid it in under her. When he took the seat at right angles to hers he had to adjust his jeans to accommodate the effect she had on him.

Life was sure as hell ironic at times.

Tom brought her a mug of coffee—this one in bright red with a Santa on the front—sat, and began talking about bodyguards in general and Raz’s qualifications in particular. Raz listened to his brother make him sound like the best thing to come along since color TV and fought the urge to get up and walk out.

When Tom finished, Sara nodded and turned those big, serious eyes on Raz. Her fingers toyed nervously with the fringe of hair at her nape. “Sergeant Rasmussin—”

“Make it Raz,” he interrupted, smiling.

“Raz, then. I’d like to know why you’re on leave.”

“I’m considering leaving the department permanently.” He’d had to give this explanation several times lately, so it flowed easily enough. “A couple of people talked me into taking unpaid leave instead of resigning outright, while I mull things over. I could use some income while I’m mulling.”

“I see.” She turned back to Tom. “I hope you’ll forgive my saying this, but it strikes me as odd that you would propose your brother for this job.”

“It’s damned irregular,” Tom said bluntly. “You probably should know my reasons.”

Sara listened with increasing dismay as she heard about the threat to the detective’s wife. He told her he’d recommended his brother for her bodyguard because “the suspect’s actions have introduced a personal element to the case.” He added that Raz might be irritating, but he was very, very good. Under the circumstances, that was what he wanted for her.

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all Sara bit her lip when she heard that old refrain singing in her head. Hadn’t she gotten over that attitude years and years ago, when she put the accident behind her and got on with her life? Yet that was her first reaction when she felt herself caving in to the pressure the two men were putting on her.

Surely hiring this man would be a bad idea. He made her—well—hot. And bothered. And mortified. The reactions met and clashed every time she looked at him.