Page 6 of Deadly Attraction
She paused in pouring water into the coffee maker, but her face was serene when she glanced over at him. “Touchy subject, I take it?”
Guilt clawed its way into his chest. Jesus, what was wrong with him, lashing out like that? He was here to get her to a safe house, nothing more. Then it was back to a few last hours of vacation filled with moping and a 12-pack. Mac could keep his scotch. “Yes, actually, it is.”
She nodded and finished pouring the water, hit the switch. “Sorry. I’m sure this isn’t what you had planned for your Saturday night.”
It wasn’t what she’d planned either. Once more, he chastised himself for being so defensive over nothing. For being rude. “Look, I appreciate the coffee and the chitchat, but you need to pack a bag so we can get out of here.”
“I’m going to shower and get dressed.” She walked by him toward the living room and the stairs. “Help yourself to the cookies in the Snoopy jar on the counter.”
She was halfway up the stairs when she turned back and caught him ogling her ass. That same serene look crossed her features before she motioned at the door. “There’s a shotgun above the door, locked and loaded. Just in case.”
Huh. Interesting. A handsome Remington rested on hooks over the front door exactly like she claimed. He also noticed for the first time that there wasn’t a Christmas decoration of any kind inside the house.
No menorah or kinara either.
Was she atheist or some other religion? Did she simply hate the holidays as much as he did?
He tipped his head at her. “Good to know.”
“FYI, I also have a couple of weapons upstairs.”
Was she warning him or letting him know she didn’t need his protection? Either way, he found it cute. “Do you know how to use them?”
One of her dainty eyebrows arched. “Better help yourself to that coffee, Agent Holden. I’ll be back shortly.”
“We really need to get on the road.”
“If Chris is coming after me, I’d rather not smell like a barn when I have to confront him.”
She did smell. “You have livestock?”
“Horses. My practice involves therapy animals. You ride?”
“Just motorcycles, ma’am.”
She glanced at his black boots. “A similar type of therapy I’m told. No motorcycle tonight, though, huh?”
He hadn’t trusted himself on his bike. Too tempting to flee town, just him and his demons, and ride like hell. “Not tonight.”
“Too bad.”
She disappeared up the stairs, the Labs on her heels, before he could ask why.
Agent Holden hadn’t been far off with the boyfriend comment.
Emma left Salt and Pepper in her bedroom and turned on the water in the shower. She dropped her robe, and touched her flat stomach, feeling the steam envelope her.
Roland, Emma’s fiancé and college sweetheart, had been ecstatic when he’d found out she was pregnant. They’d been together a total of ten years. Their careers were both going great. They’d dreamed of starting a family and he’d proposed at Thanksgiving. They’d been so happy, so ready for this.
But along with his proposal came an ultimatum.
Since her first psychology class in college, she’d known she wanted to be a therapist. Roland had talked her into taking a law class with him and she’d felt the call of the judicial system as well. Combining the two, her path became clear. While Roland changed his degree as fast as he changed his socks, for her, clinical psychology had always been her chosen path with her sights set on being an evaluator and expert witness for criminal trials.
As a forensic psychologist, she helped the courts evaluate the competency of certain individuals to stand trial, as well as their mental state at the time of the offense.
Because of her work and the in-depth evaluations she provided, she was asked to sit on teams made up of psychologists, nurses, and care workers to evaluate past offenders being released and deciding on their potential for future criminal activities.
Eventually, she’d ended up contracting her services to the State of California, evaluating prisoners who were up for parole.
