Hard To Handle

Finally she turned to him. Even the darkness couldn’t prevent him from noting that her gaze wasn’t friendly. “I’m fine out here. I don’t need company. You’re free to be on your way.”

Those words were delivered with just the right amount of haughtiness—duchess to serf. He supposed with her background she’d grown up giving orders. Too bad he’d never learned to take them.

“I’ve got my car. I could give you a lift home if you want.”

She’d returned to face the street. “That won’t be necessary.”

He nodded. “Your choice. Hope for your sake that cab arrives soon, though. Some men might be forgiven for thinking that your hanging around out here means you’ve changed your mind about ending the date so soon.” He heard a slight sound in the darkness that he fancied was her teeth clenching together.

“It was not a—”

“Date. Right. You said that.” Giving a shrug, he pushed away from the wall. “Well, if the cab doesn’t show, I’m sure Wadrell would enjoy escorting you home.”

He started in the direction of the parking lot. He’d gotten only a dozen steps when he heard her voice again.

“Wait. Maybe…maybe you’re right.”

He looked over his shoulder. The frigid breeze was combing reckless fingers through her hair, and she pushed it back over her shoulder with an impatient hand. “Those are words every man likes to hear, ma’am. Exactly what was I right about?”

Her chin lifted to an imperious angle, and it took little imagination to guess the effort it took to keep her tone civil. “I guess I will take that ride, after all. That is, if you’re sure it won’t take you out of your way.”

He masked his surprise at her sudden change of heart and dug in his pocket for his keys. Risk management, he figured, silently leading her to his car. She’d considered her options and decided that at the moment he presented less of a threat than Wadrell. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or offended. But he’d seize the opportunity to spend some time with her. He didn’t mind driving a few extra miles, especially if it got him closer to gaining her trust.

He was truthful enough to admit, at least privately, to a fascination for the woman; an interest in more than her cooperation. But that was as far as it would be allowed to go. Work came first with him, it always would. And if the unlikely day ever came that he actually got serious about a female, it wouldn’t be one with shadows in her eyes and secrets on her lips.

He didn’t have to be psychic to realize that a woman like Meghan spelled the kind of trouble he’d spent a lifetime avoiding.

Chapter 3

It was a mistake. Nerves scrambled in Meghan’s stomach. In her eagerness to avoid Wadrell, with his increasingly slick lines and smooth advances, she’d considered Connally the lesser of two evils. Too late she’d remembered all the reasons she would be wise to shun his presence, as well. In the shadowy interior of his car, on the near-silent ride to her apartment, he exuded a danger all his own.

His voice rumbled out in the darkness, startling her. “Who’s taking care of your nephew tonight?”

With effort she kept the anxiety from her words. “My neighbor, Callie.”

“The woman who came to the door this afternoon?” He glanced her way, caught her nod. “Is she your baby-sitter?”

“Her son, Alex, and Danny are friends. We trade off duties. That way each of us can get away when we need to.”

“Sounds handy.”

That deep bass of his sounded even more gravelly in the shadowy interior of the car. His natural timbre was low, always sounding as though he’d just awakened. That thought elicited an accompanying mental image of him just rousing from sleep, his hard jaws shadowed and those whiskey-colored eyes still drowsy. She could feel her cheeks warm at the intimate thought of him, and turned her face to the window, glad that the darkness would hide her reaction.

She could blame the odd path her thoughts were taking on the upset she’d had earlier today, and then again tonight. She didn’t normally spend much time thinking about men’s voices. And especially not a man who was intent on pulling her nephew into the middle of a criminal investigation.

The memory firmed her earlier resolve. At all costs Connally and his partner had to be kept away from Danny. The boy was too young to be well schooled in keeping secrets. And Meghan was determined Connally would never learn about his ability.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. When he pulled up in front of her apartment, she lost no time exiting the car. “Thank you for…what are you doing?”

Gabe put the car into park and turned off the ignition. He didn’t answer her until he’d rounded the vehicle and cupped her elbow in his hand. “Walking you up to your apartment.”

She tried, in vain, to pull away from him. “That isn’t necessary. Besides, you left your car in a no-parking zone.”

His teeth flashed in the darkness. “Don’t worry. I know someone who can fix tickets for me.”

“An admission of corruption,” she muttered as he steered her toward the door of the building, “from one of CPD’s finest. My, my, how surprising.”

“I can also spring that security code for you if you’re not going to punch it in. Lose your key? The inside lock will take ten seconds, tops.” He gave a shrug. “Some talents never leave you.”

She gave him a sidelong glance as she tapped in her code on the security panel. “Rather odd ‘talents’ for a detective to admit to. Did you pick them up from your days in the academy?”

He scanned the street quickly, then opened the door and ushered her inside. “No, from my days as a delinquent.”

His answer succeeded in keeping her silent all the way up to the fourth floor. Knowing it would be fruitless to try and leave him at the elevator, she suffered through having him accompany her to her door, take the key from her and open it.

“Thank you. Again.” She snatched the key away from him and dropped it back in her purse. There was no gratitude in her tone, and she was certain he realized it.

His lips quirked slightly. “No problem. Again. Where’s Callie live?”

“Why?”

His smile grew wider at the thread of caution in the word. “That’s where Danny is, right? I figure she wouldn’t leave her son and maybe her husband to come over here and sit, so Danny must be over there.”

She heaved a sigh. It had been an impossibly long day, and this man was partly responsible for that. The sooner he was on his way, the sooner she could get her life back to normal. Or what passed for normal these days.

“She just lives a few doors that way. Now if you…” Her words tapered off as he began to stride in the direction she’d indicated.

She trailed in his wake like an obedient puppy and didn’t care for the feeling. “Detective, I’ve thanked you for the ride, but it’s time for you to leave.”

“The kid’s probably asleep. You shouldn’t be carrying him. Which door?”

“I’m perfectly capable of carrying him—no, God not that one.” Meghan managed to catch his arm before he could pound on Edna Hathaway’s door. “All you’re liable to find in that apartment is a seventy-eight-year-old lady with an eye for expensive vodka and anything in pants.” The warning wasn’t exaggerated in the slightest. “I heard that it took three days to resuscitate the last man who went in there.”

He grinned at her over his shoulder. “Sounds interesting.” He’d managed to surprise her. He could see it in her eyes and the way her mouth tilted in response. He watched closely, wanting, more than he should have, to see her smile break free. And then he stared, staggered when it did, lightening her expression and softening her eyes. His stomach jittered oddly, and he couldn’t take his gaze off her, not even when her smile faded to be replaced by her earlier coolness.

She moved past him to a door on the opposite side of the hall and tapped lightly. A few moments later it opened and a woman Gabe recognized from that afternoon appeared in the doorway. “Hi. I thought you’d be later. I went ahead and put Danny down on the couch. They begged to stay in Alex’s room but I knew my chances of getting them to sleep there were nonexistent.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought.” Meghan moved through the doorway, with Gabe right behind her. Spotting the boy curled up on the couch, he crossed the room, bent down and lifted him easily in his arms.

“He gave me a ride home…it’s a long story,” he heard Meghan murmur to her friend.

“Well,” Callie replied, turning to follow the three to the door, “you can tell me about it tomorrow. All about it.” As the door closed behind her and Meghan hurried to catch up with Connally’s long strides, she tried not to imagine the conversation she was going to be in for the next morning.

She caught up with the detective in her living room, where he was waiting patiently for her. “Which is his room?”

“Really, you’ve done enough. If you’d just put him down…” When the man continued to stand there, clearly with no intention of complying, she gave in with ill grace and led him down the hallway. She picked up his treasured Pokémon backpack and tossed it to the end of the bed, before pulling the covers down. Connally moved past her without a sound and gently laid the boy down on the lower of the two bunk beds.

Pulling the covers up and tucking them around her nephew, Megan paused an instant. His breathing was even and deep, and there was a slight flush on his face, which still held some baby fullness. There was an unexpected catch deep in her chest, and in an unconscious gesture, her hand reached out, hovered.