“Not at my place, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“And where are you planning to sleep?”
“The couch will do just fine.” He stopped in front of her, his finger traced the outline of her face. “Unless you want me somewhere closer to you.”
“I want you out of here!”
“Sorry. That’s not an option.”
She pushed his hand away, not liking the way it burned into her. Yet…she liked it too much. She whipped around to leave, but he grasped her arm and kept her from moving.
“Jordan, no matter how upset you are at me, you can’t ignore the strong attraction we have for each other.” In one quick pull, he had her up against his chest. He circled his arms around her. “You want to kiss me right now, just as much as I want to kiss you.”
Every inch of her tingled from his nearness, and she cursed her weakness. As much as she wanted to hate him, her body wouldn’t let her. Fortunately, she had been trained to control her emotions.
His mouth descended toward hers. She lifted her foot and brought it down hard on his instep. He yelped and released her. She crossed to the kitchen, putting some distance between.
“You blew it, Mister,” she snapped over her shoulder. She picked up a glass and shoved it under the cold-water tap to fill. “I’m not going to fall for your fake seduction any longer. I’ve learned my lesson.”
He followed her into the kitchen. The uneven rhythm of his injured step announced him. She refused to look his way, afraid he might see the triumph on her face for hurting him, although it was minor compared to what he’d done to her.
“Fight it all you want, Jordan, but I know you better.”
He bit the words out. Good. Maybe the sting in his foot would be with him for a while.
“Give it up, Hamill. From now on, our relationship will be totally doctor and patient.”
“I’m not your patient!”
She threw a glare over her shoulder at him. “You’re certainly not my bodyguard.”
He shrugged. “I’m willing to change that any time you say so.”
“I don’t think it’s necessary for you to stay in my house. All I got was threatening letters, for heaven’s sake.”
“And the break-in this morning.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. The break-in may not be related to the letters.”
“What are the odds they’re not?”
She scowled. “Not as good as I want them to be.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into that charming grin of his. She shook the thought from her mind and kept her lips tight.
“But it still doesn’t mean you have to stay in my house,” she reasoned. “Go sleep in your car…truck, or whatever you drive. Isn’t that what wannabe private investigators do anyway?”
“Jordan, I’m not a wannabe private investigator. I’m your bodyguard, and bodyguards guard bodies. They stay by their clients and protect them, night and day.”
“But I’m not your client. You’re not even in that profession for heaven’s sake.”
“True, but I’m still going to protect you from danger.”
“I’m not in danger.”
“You don’t know that.”
She rolled her eyes and gulped down her glass of water, trying to think of something logical to convince him to leave. Her mind drew a blank. Curse him for making her like this, and curse him for making her feel so vulnerable and needy.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and folded his arms across his wide chest. She tried to keep her stare on his eyes, but his body had always had that come-ogle-me look, and she couldn’t resist a quick sweep over his muscular frame. The dark brown sweater fit his chest to perfection, and his jeans couldn’t have looked better on any other man. Crap! Why did he have to look so good?
“So, Doctor Reed…” Her gaze quickly snapped up to his. “What do you suppose we do for the remainder of the afternoon to keep ourselves entertained?”
Her cheeks burned. Gads, had he read her thoughts? Somehow he knew what she’d been thinking, and his innuendo told her in no uncertain terms that his own thoughts leaned toward passion. She banged the glass on the counter a little harder than she intended. Thank goodness it didn’t shatter.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I have files to go over, so I’ll be upstairs in my office.”
She took a step toward the stairs. He pulled away from the counter, preparing to follow. She scowled. “And if you think to follow me, think again. My patients are confidential, and I can’t have you looking over my shoulder the whole time I’m working. If you like, you can watch television. I have satellite, so I’m sure you won’t get too bored.”
She hurried off and ran up the stairs, slamming the office door behind her. Thankfully, he didn’t try to follow this time.
She sank into her leather rocker and covered her face with her hands. She’d been fighting tears all morning, especially after Brock’s truthful revelation. Why had she allowed herself to get so attached so quickly?
Pressing her fingers to her eyes, she willed herself not to cry. It was too late now.
“He’s not worth my tears.” The sound of her voice startled her.
Look what he’d reduced her to. Now she was talking to herself. Still, she knew even before the words were out that she was a fool. He had been worth it. She felt safe and protected in his arms. When he kissed her, she felt feminine, sexy, complete. No other man made her feel that way.
She had to quit thinking that way. She needed to harden her heart and concentrate on what was most important in her life right now. True, kissing him had been great for a while, but now it was out of her system, and she could focus on her patients. Besides, physically it was great, but emotionally it was too much. She didn’t need that kind of pain.
FOURTEEN
Brock switched off the remote control and threw it on the other side of the couch. He pushed himself up and paced the floor like a caged animal. Jordan had said he wouldn’t be bored, but he was. She didn’t know him very well. She didn’t know that he wasn’t the type who lounged around and did nothing.
He glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall. Time for supper, yet Jordan hadn’t come out of her office all afternoon and evening, not even to go to the bathroom.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since this morning, and all he’d had then was a protein bar.
There were two options here. He could call for a pizza, or he could go into the kitchen and find something to fix for supper. If he called for a pizza, it wouldn’t arrive for at least thirty minutes—and that’s if the driver could make it through the snow-packed roads—and by the way his stomach ate into his backbone, he knew he’d starve by then. Cooking something would probably take that long, but at least it would take his mind off his stomach and Jordan.
He moved into the kitchen and searched through her cupboards. Neat and organized, just like Jordan’s life. Why didn’t that surprise him? He smiled. He wouldn’t have her any other way.
After finding the ingredients for making Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo, he slipped on the apron that hung in her pantry-style closet. He started to prepare the meal he’d made a hundred times before. Once the chicken started frying and the aroma filled the kitchen, soft footsteps padded across the floor above. The office door squeaked open. He couldn’t stop the wide grin tugging at his mouth. She’d find out soon enough that he had more than one talent.
Whistling a familiar tune, he acted as if he hadn’t noticed her sneak down the stairs or pause on the last step as she peered into the kitchen. He stirred the chicken, checked the boiling noodles, and set the Alfredo sauce to simmer. When he turned to see what kind of wine she had, he stopped in his tracks and looked at her. Jordan’s eyes were wide and unbelieving, her mouth agape like a fish.
She quickly snapped back into her ‘doctor’ mode, straightened her back, then gracefully c
ontinued into the kitchen.
“I smelled something cooking.” She walked to the stove and lifted each lid.
“Well, I was hungry. I hope you don’t mind.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. “Mind? Why should I mind?”
“Because I invaded your kitchen.”
She shrugged. “If you’re going to be my shadow, you might as well make yourself useful. I’m just relieved you don’t expect me to wait on you hand and foot.”
“Why would I expect that?”
“Because you’re a man.”
In two long strides, he was by her side, looming over her. Eyes wide with fear, she stepped back. He trapped her against the counter, placed his hand on the cupboards behind her, effectively blocking any chance of escape. She pushed her hands against his chest to move him, but he refused to budge.
“For a psychiatrist, you’re not very perceptive. I can’t believe you would judge every man from one man’s mistakes.”
A chuckle escaped from her throat. “Why do you think I’m doing that?”
“Because I know Kenneth hurt you, and I know you’ve hardened your heart to other men because of what he did. I can understand your reluctance to give other men a chance, but Jordan, I’m nothing like Kenneth.”
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and her throat jumped. With her palms pressed against his chest, and her this close to him, his heartbeat quickened. It always did when he got this close to her.
“You may not have done the same things Kenneth did to me, but you hurt me just as much.” She lifted her eyes to his and continued. “You’re a liar, just like Kenneth was.”
He shook his head. “That’s hitting below the belt, Jordan. Besides that, I explained everything to you.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
“But I’m still here for you. Can’t you see that?”
“Only because you still think you’re my bodyguard.”
“I am because I want to be,” he whispered.
He brushed his lips over her cheek, near her ear, and she gasped. She kept her hands on his chest, but she’d stopped trying to push him away. He took this as permission to continue.
Moving closer, he kissed her neck and inhaled her rose scented perfume. He kissed the sensitive spot on her neck. She shivered and a soft sigh tore from her throat. Hearing that sound about drove him over the edge.
He moved his lips across her neck, then up her chin to her mouth, pecking lightly for her to open. She turned her face, but he kept on task.
“Jordan, please.” He’d hoped to break her resistance, but every time he tried to kiss her, she withdrew.
“Brock, I think you’d better check on your food before it burns.”
“It can burn for all I care. I want to kiss you. Now.”
“Please Brock, don’t.”
His heart crumbled. He wouldn’t force her. He’d never do that. With an ache in his chest, he moved away and set her free. She rushed to the stove to stir the chicken, which was close to burning.
He scanned her backside, liking the way her long hair cascaded over her shoulders. Liked the way her slender waist flared slightly to the curve of her hips. She was really perfect, and fit in his arms just the right way. Good grief. Thinking this way would make him go crazy, and then he would need a doctor.
Reaching his hand out, he stroked her hair with his knuckles. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t say anything. Would she ever forgive him? If she didn’t, his heart wouldn’t be able to take the rejection.
With a dejected sigh, he knew his future looked bleak.
* * * *
Lying under the heavy blankets on her bed, she tried to tell her mind it was bedtime. Sleep was in order so she could function at work tomorrow. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get Brock off her mind. Knowing he was so near, her traitorous body reminded her what a wonderful kisser he was. Not only that, but he was a very good cook. Dinner tonight was superb, and the apple pie he’d made for Christmas dinner was the best she’d ever tasted. Was there anything this man couldn’t do?
Yeah…he couldn’t tell the truth.
Until she trusted him fully, she couldn’t let her heart get involved…any more than it already was.
With a growl of frustration, she rolled over. She punched her pillow, trying to get it shaped to her head better. When that didn’t work, she lifted it and covered her face. Brock, go away! She needed sleep if she was going to focus on her clients tomorrow.
From outside her window, she thought she heard a knock and a thump. She listened closer, then dismissed it. Just her imagination. Brock had insisted she was in danger, but she couldn’t fully believe him. The sound was probably just her imagination anyway.
She rolled on her other side and squeezed the pillow closer to her ears, trying to block out the sounds. Breathing slowly, she focused on controlling her mind, keeping it from wandering. She thought about her patients, especially those she would meet with tomorrow.
Soon, her body relaxed, and her mind was on its way to dreamland. Another thump sounded. This time closer, and not outside the window. Was it in her room? She jerked to awareness. There it went again. A footstep? She creased her brow. Could Brock have snuck into her room? No, it couldn’t be him. Her bedroom door hadn’t opened. Besides that, she usually smelled Brock’s intoxicating scent of spice.
She pulled the pillow closer to her face, yet concentrated on the sounds around her. Suddenly, the temperature in the room became colder. Her heart sank. Had someone come through her window? The more she concentrated on what was going on around her, she zeroed in on light footsteps coming closer. Then she detected heavy breathing. Finally, she detected a smell…but not Brock. It was a man’s after-shave, different from Brock’s. Her heart thundered in her ears. Panic surrounded her as she lay still.
Beside her bed, someone opened one of her oak dresser drawers. A chill ran up her spine. Whoever was in here was near. Too near.
Brock, where are you?
She had to stay calm—had to act as if she were still asleep. She moaned softly and flipped over in her bed toward the corner of the room, toward the sound. Immediately, she felt the chill of the night air. Definitely someone had climbed through her window.
She lifted her lids enough to look around. Through the darkness, she spotted a figure of a man. It wasn’t Brock. In fact, from what she could see, he looked as if he wore a ski mask.
Could it be the same person who’d ransacked her office this morning? The cold prickles running up her spine told her it was.
She whimpered and squirmed, hoping to scare off the intruder. Unfortunately, that ploy didn’t work. He took a step toward her, and she almost cried out. But as long as he thought she was asleep, maybe things would be all right.
He stood next to the bed, staring down at her. The rhythm in her chest took on a different speed, and she wondered if she’d have a heart attack right now. Or would she die from his hands, instead?
Trying to keep her breathing normal, she relied on her hearing, since he was too close for her to peek under her eyelids. The crisp sound from his jeans crackled when he knelt, and liquor on his breath made her want to gag. Then he put his hand on the sheets beside her. It took all of her strength not to scream.
“Jordan,” he said softly. She fought to remain still. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. She didn’t recognize his voice. Finally, he stood and backed away.
When he walked back to the window, she breathed a sigh of relief. She allowed herself to open her eyes just enough to look at him again. Who was he? He crawled out the window. The light patter of his footsteps across the balcony let her know he was leaving for good. She sprang from her bed and ran to the door. Her heart lodged in her throat.
“Brock!” She yanked the door open, but he was there, entering the room with his gun drawn. She slunk back into the room and looked at the weapon in his hand. When did he get a gun?
“I heard a noise.” Brock rushed to her window, looking out.
She ran to him then, her body shaking beyond belief. “Someone was in my room. A man.”
Brock looked down at her. “When?”
“Just now.”
“Did he hurt you?” His voice tightened as he closed the window and locked it.
“He thought I was asleep.”
Her body shook. She wrapped her arms around her chest. Brock took her in his arms. She cuddled next to his body, feeling the safety she’d always experienced up this close.
“Do you know who it was?”
“No. He didn’t look familiar.”
“How could you see him in the dark?”
“There was a little light coming from the window. I saw the outline of his body, but it didn’t look familiar. He wore a ski mask. He spoke to me, but his voice was low and husky when he whispered in my ear. I didn’t recognize it.”
“Didn’t you say he thought you were asleep?”
“He did, but he still spoke.”
Brock tilted her face up to his. “What did he say?”
“He said, soon you’ll be mine.” She shivered at the memory of how close he was to her.
Brock swore and tightened his hold. “Over my dead body, he’ll have you.” Emotion laced his voice, making it break.
Jordan buried her face in his chest and sobbed, hoping that it wouldn’t come to that, either.
* * * *
“What do you mean you can’t find a trace of him?” Jordan’s voice rose in disbelief, as she followed Brock around the outside of her townhouse the next morning.
Brock knew she wouldn’t understand, but the plain and simple fact was, the intruder last night had left no clues behind. It was as if Jordan had dreamed him up. The cops had come as not long after Brock had called them last night, but all they did was dust for fingerprints and ask her close neighbors questions.
He stopped suddenly and faced her. She’d been following so closely, she bumped into him. She folded her arms across and gave him her most stubborn glare. She looked so cute all wrapped up in her winter coat with a purple thick scarf wrapped around her neck and lower half of her face. He wanted to smile, thinking she looked absolutely adorable, but the situation was too serious, and he couldn’t allow himself that luxury.
Finding the Perfect Man Page 14
