Page 149 of Over the Edge

May as well accept that she wasn’t going to win a most-photogenic contest for a while. But a quick shower and change of clothes ought to help herfeelmore normal at least. And if the enticing aroma wafting through her condo was any indication, her stomach was in for a treat. Jack obviously hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he liked to cook.

Ten minutes later, in clean leggings and a sweatshirt, she finger combed her damp hair as she emerged from her room and wandered down the hall toward the kitchen.

On the threshold, she paused.

Her knight in shining armor wasn’t wearing a helmet or chain mail today. On the contrary. His hair was rumpled, his slacks were creased, and his shirt was wrinkled.

But he looked every bit as noble and gallant as those legendary knights of old.

As if sensing her perusal, he turned from the stove. While his smile warmed her, it couldn’t disguise the grooves beside his mouth and the fine lines radiating from the corners of his eyes that spoke of worry and exhaustion and stress.

“Good morning.” He moved the pan off the burner. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but otherwise okay.”

“What’s the verdict on your head?”

“No problems. The only souvenir of my close encounters with hard objects is a dull ache.” She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “How much did you sleep? My couch wasn’t designed for anything but short naps.”

“Enough.” Without giving her a chance to dwell on thatobvious fib, he swung the spotlight back to her. “You look rested.”

“I didn’t wake up once.”

“That’s what I thought. I didn’t hear a sound from your room all night. Are you hungry?”

“Very.”

“Have a seat. When I heard you moving around, I shifted into high gear.”

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast.”

“Believe me, cooking in a kitchen as well-stocked as this isn’t a chore.” He crossed to the oven and pulled out a tray of biscuits.

She gaped at the source of the tantalizing aroma that had nudged her awake. “Are those homemade?”

“Is there any other kind?” He flashed her a grin. “It’s my mom’s recipe. She always made them for breakfast if someone needed a pick-me-up or we had something to celebrate. I decided this morning qualified on both scores for us.” He set the tray on a cooling rack. “Go ahead and sit.” He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for her.

She slid onto it, watching as he put the biscuits in a basket, dished up scrambled eggs, and set a fruit parfait in front of her. “Wow. I’ll be spoiled. In light of my profession I probably shouldn’t admit this, but my usual breakfast is a bagel and cream cheese.”

“Mine too. But it’s Saturday, the Robertson nightmare is over, and we have a whole future to look forward to.” He joined her at the table. “Do you mind if I offer a blessing?”

“By all means.”

He took her hand, and though she dipped her chin and tried to pay attention as he gave thanks, the warmth of his strong grip seeping into her skin was a major distraction.

“Dig in.” He released his hold as he passed the basket of biscuits.

She took one and slathered it with butter. Bit into the tender, flaky goodness. Sighed. “These are fantastic. You can make them for me anytime.”

“Count on it.” He locked onto her gaze with an intensity that played havoc with her respiration. But a moment later, he lowered the wattage and motioned to her plate. “Why don’t we table personal matters until we finish breakfast and I take your statement?”

“That seems reasonable.” Otherwise, the flutter in her stomach would render eating impossible. Forking a bite of egg, she shifted the conversation back to recent events. “Fill me in on the details of how you found me.”

He complied as she finished one biscuit and helped herself to another. “I’m just sorry I didn’t get there sooner.”

“You got there. That’s all that counts.” She scooped up another bite of her eggs. “I still can’t believe Dr. Oliver and Heidi Robertson were a couple.”

He cocked his head. “You mean beyond being partners in crime?”

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