Bulletproof Hearts

“Because whoever placed that phone call knows you’re here,” Dylan reminded her.

“You said the call was made from the lobby. Whoever called was in the hotel, not in my room.”

“If he got that far, it’s not a stretch to think he could go farther.”

“This is a reputable hotel with good security. If someone is determined to find me, I don’t see how I’ll be safer anywhere else.”

“You could register at another hotel under a false name.”

“I’m not going into hiding.”

“You could be in danger, Natalie.”

He was doing it again—using her given name, implying a camaraderie she didn’t want, wasn’t willing to acknowledge. “Make up your mind, Lieutenant. One minute you’re practically accusing me of working with the bad guys—the next, you’re suggesting I’m their target.”

“I know you’re not involved—” He broke off abruptly. “Dammit, I don’t know you’re not involved. I don’t know you, or anything about you. And I’ve been a cop long enough to know that prematurely ruling out any possibility is dangerous.”

Well, that clearly set the battle lines again. She felt an uncomfortable sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, a sense of loss she didn’t understand.

Creighton drew a deep breath, raked a hand through his already unruly hair. “But I don’t believe you’re involved. I saw you in Merrick’s apartment. I know how that scene affected you. You wouldn’t have reacted that way if you’d had any part in making it happen.”

She didn’t know why his statement filled her with such relief. It shouldn’t matter to her what he thought, but for some inexplicable reason it did. Determined to ignore her internal response, she tried a wry smile. “Then I should be grateful I have a weak stomach?”

“You should be cautious.”

“I am,” she told him. “And right now I’m tired. Can we table this conversation to a later date so I can get some sleep tonight?”

He hesitated, as if he intended to pursue the topic further, but then he nodded. “All right.” He took a business card out of his pocket and held it toward her.

“You already gave me one,” she reminded him.

“This one has my home number on it. If you can’t get me on my cell, try me there.”

“I don’t think—”

“Use it,” he said, placing the card in her hand. “Anytime.”

But Natalie wouldn’t call, and Dylan knew it.

He knew it when he left her hotel room, and he was even more sure of it the following morning when he selected the dumbbells for his biceps curls. He often started his day with a workout as he found physical exertion usually helped clear his mind. Of course, he usually started his day with more than three hours of sleep. And he usually didn’t have a woman lurking in the back of his mind.

No matter how hard he tried to banish Natalie from his thoughts, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He couldn’t stop wondering why her apparent uninterest bothered him so much.

He dropped the dumbbells back into the rack and moved to the leg press.

Because she wasn’t uninterested, dammit. He’d felt the crackle of awareness between them in that hotel room. He’d seen the flare of desire in the stormy depths of her blue-green eyes as he’d lowered his head to kiss her. And he’d seen, just as visibly, how she’d shut her emotions away and distanced herself from him.

He should be grateful she’d had the sense to back away from a potentially volatile situation. A situation that he’d created despite the knowledge that any kind of personal relationship between them was a bad idea. But he wasn’t feeling grateful, only annoyed and incredibly frustrated.

He adjusted the weight on the machine and began his repetitions with a vengeance.

“Someone’s in a mood this morning.”

Dylan glanced up at Joel Logan, a local private investigator and longtime friend. “I haven’t seen you around here in a while,” he said, opting to ignore Joel’s comment.

“I’m a newlywed,” his friend reminded him. “I’ve found more enjoyable forms of exercise to start my day.”

He deliberately let the weights slam together again.

“Tough case you’re working on?”

“Not really.”

“Then what’s put you in such a mood?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my mood,” Dylan denied.

Joel shrugged and sat down at the rowing machine. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say you don’t want to talk about it.”