Close Contact

“Almost none of it,” Miles agreed. “I think she was drugged, but the scenario she laid out is tough to swallow.”

“You don’t buy that a stranger came to the house, drugged her for reasons unbeknownst to her, carried her outside, laid her gently in the yard, then left without taking advantage of her vulnerable state?”

He snorted. “Do you?”

She gave it some thought before answering. “I don’t know. It’s almost too bizarre not to be true. She’s definitely scared. That’s genuine.”

Yeah, and he hated it. “I’ll figure out what’s going on. She’ll have to fess up, though.” Once she did, he’d take charge.

Of everything.

“You want her to ‘fess up’ about other men, I presume? She said she hasn’t been involved with anyone since you.”

Miles wasn’t buying it. “Why would a total stranger want to bother her?”

“Now, there’s the big question—motive.” After a thoughtful moment, Sahara said, “It’s hard to believe she kicked you out of bed.”

Shit. Stiffening, Miles grumbled, “I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“I mean,” she continued, “look at you. You’re such a specimen.”

One thing he’d learned while working at Body Armor: Sahara Silver had a twisted sense of humor, and she didn’t mind bludgeoning others with it, even her employees. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Not a single blush, huh?” She feigned disappointment. “I suppose you have to realize the impact you have.”

Impact? He must not have had much, given that Maxi had walked away. “Knock it off already. This is serious.”

“Very serious, if what she’s said is true. What I find interesting is that you appear to be jealous of this other man that she may or may not have been involved with, and that shocks me. After all, she came to you.”

“To hire me.” Not just because she wanted him back in her bed.

Not because he’d had a damned impact.

“You don’t like those dynamics, with her being your employer of sorts? Well, consider this scenario. What if some psycho saw her at...say the grocery store? Or the gas station? She’s an attractive woman. Even in her ensemble today, I could see that.”

“She’s beautiful.” And sexy as sin, and hot, and—

“And what if our psycho followed her home and realized she lived all alone, with no close neighbors?”

His heart started beating harder. “You think that’s a possibility?”

“You know, my brother practically raised me here at the agency. I’ve seen so many wicked, unbelievable things that I know anything is possible.”

Everyone believed Sahara’s brother was dead—except Sahara. She’d taken over running the agency, but Miles didn’t think she’d ever give up looking for her brother. “You believe that scenario, even if the supposed psycho didn’t do anything more than move Maxi from inside to outside?” How did that make sense?

“Who knows what’s in the mind of a lunatic?” Sahara brushed back her long hair. “Perhaps that was just his first salvo. He could be building up to something, gaining courage as he goes along.”

“Fuck.” He really hated that idea.

“Perhaps,” she continued, “he’s hoping to weaken her resolve, and then he can swoop in to be her hero.”

“Not happening.” That’d be his first rule. As long as he was hanging around to play protector, no other dude would be horning in.

Eyeing his clenched hands and aggressive stance, Sahara smiled with approval. “I think you care for her, Miles, or you wouldn’t be all grumpy instead of your usual jovial self. More than that, I think she cares for you or she wouldn’t have come to you when she needed help. I think,” she stressed, “that she has a rather fantastical story to tell, one that many people wouldn’t believe, but she’s trusting you with it and that should count for a lot.” She straightened and walked around to her chair in a clear dismissal. “But then, what do I know? I just run this place.”

* * *

“PRIVATE,” MILES STATED as he steered down the long, bumpy gravel drive lined by concealing trees and shrubs. The woods hid the house until you turned the last curve where the cleared land spread out in all its lacking glory.

He parked where she indicated, his gaze scouring the house, barn and pond. Without comment, he came around to open her door. She’d already stepped out, and of course, the cats knew it.

Miles stared in awe as the animals converged from everywhere. They dropped out of trees, crawled out from under bushes, ran up from the pond. There had to be thirty of them currently fascinated by having a new face around. As she’d told him, she didn’t get visitors.

The majority of the cats were black, a few white, a few mixed and a few yellow. Some were huge, others petite. Long and lean, chubby and squat. They were all adorable.

They’d been her grandmother’s beloved pets and now they depended on her.

Many were feral, coming only close enough to eat the food put out for them twice a day. Others would twine around her legs, and some insisted on being held.

As Miles gazed around at the property, he drew a deep breath. “The air smells really good here.”

“Fresh country air.” She enjoyed it, too. But now?

She looked over at the small farmhouse she’d inherited. One and a half stories with a painted deck off the upstairs bedroom that created a cover for the front porch below. Every morning she had her coffee on that porch and listened to the birds singing, watched the deer at the pond, and of course, she petted cats. Despite the work that needed to be done, she could truly love it here.

If it weren’t for the menace.

Staring at the house now, she felt dread go up her spine. No one will drive me away. Her grandmother had trusted her, and by God, she wouldn’t let her down.

Of course, she felt a lot safer now with Miles at her side. She gestured toward the barn. “The cat food is in there in a big barrel. I should take care of that first.”

He nodded, his critical gaze going over her as if looking for signs of exhaustion or illness. “You want to wait here?”

“Nope.” Determined as she might be to stand her ground, for now she didn’t want to be alone.

He looked divided, his gaze going back to the dark barn. “It might be better—”

“I go where you go.”

The way he studied her face again, she almost squirmed. “All right.” He offered his hand. “Let’s go.”

She hesitated. Being close to him did crazy things to her. His hands, especially, sparked memories of all the ways he’d touched her, encouraged her, driven her wild. She caught her breath, feeling heat blossom.

She still couldn’t believe she’d forced herself on him in the office, making him hold her when he’d been clear that he was angry with her.

But, God, she’d needed his touch. She’d needed to feel safe. So she’d swallowed her pride and, despite his obvious—and justified—annoyance with her, she’d borrowed his strength.

And he’d let her. Even clearly irritated with her, he’d been supportive, going with her to the doctor’s, treating her gently.