Tabitha Monroe knew the instant Assistant Chief of Police Jake White arrived.

The tension filling the air changed so suddenly, so drastically, it was as if a hot South Texas wind had blown in from across the Rio Grande fifty miles to the west.

The police officials flanking her on the dais—from Mission Creek’s well-staffed but hostage-inexperienced force—relaxed noticeably. They’d called Assistant Chief White in from his vacation and had been trying to put the press conference off until his return. But the media, which had been gathering from all over Texas throughout the night before, had been clamoring for information.

The transformed air held more than relief, however. On top of the fear, concern and desperation, inherent in a discussion of an armed madman disappearing with hostages, floated an element of excitement, of restlessness that seemed almost…sexual.

Taken aback by the thought so inappropriate to the situation at hand—and so foreign to her personally—Tabitha hesitated in the middle of answering a question and scanned the crowd of reporters. They’d come, it seemed, from every news agency around the country since news had leaked of yesterday’s unusual hostage situation and kidnapping at Mission Creek Memorial Hospital. Her hospital.

Though she’d never met Jake White and had no idea what he looked like, she knew him the instant her gaze locked on to light-colored eyes framed with dark lashes.

Steady, strong, assessing, his gaze bored into hers and, for an instant, the rest of the room disappeared.

A delicious shiver ruffled the hairs on Tabitha’s skin, which became flushed with blood shot from a heart that suddenly beat as if her morning coffee had been laced with speed.

Now she knew where the sexual energy was coming from. It was as if Jake telegraphed desire across invisible wires stretching over the heads of the crowd.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Police Chief Burl Terry motion to his second-in-command to come forward.

“Miss Monroe?”

The reporter’s voice barely penetrated Tabitha’s frozen stupor.

What was wrong with her? Jake White was a cop. She’d never had a sexual thought about a cop in her life. She wasn’t about to start now.

Tabitha tore her gaze from the cop at the back of the room, but not before she saw him give a small “not now” wave to the chief.

They’d called him in to take command, hadn’t they? What was he waiting for? For her to screw up?

You can’t do anything right.

She could hear her father’s voice as clearly as if he were in the room, rather than under six feet of Texas soil, the bullet that had killed him still lodged in his heart.

“Miss Monroe?”

With an effort, Tabitha focused on the crowd of reporters and for an alarming instant couldn’t remember the question she’d been answering or even the reporter who’d asked it. “Yes?”

One young man in front helped her out by saying, “You were about to tell us what precautions the hospital was making to keep Branson Hines out.”

“Thank you. Yes.” Tabitha took a deep breath. “Mission Creek Police Chief Burl Terry has assured me that all entrances are sealed. Everyone will be searched when they enter the hospital, just as each of you were.”

“Is that going to be enough?” asked another reporter, a woman from a national news agency. “Weren’t Mission Creek police guarding the hospital against Mr. Hines yesterday? And if I’m not mistaken, he escaped from the police about a month ago after almost kidnapping the son of your hospital fund-raiser—” she looked down at her notes “—Crystal Bennett.”

Tabitha glanced at Jake White, who watched her intently, then at Chief Terry, who did not look pleased at having the quality of his men questioned.

Chief Terry stepped over to the microphone. “Hines was being escorted to the maximum-security prison in Lubbock by state troopers when he managed to escape. There were APBs put out, and police all over the state were looking for him. Nothing’s gonna get through my boys. I guaran-damn-tee you that.”

Smiling with what she hoped looked like confidence, Tabitha returned to the mike. “I have every faith in the Mission Creek Police Department.”

Though she wasn’t looking directly at him, she saw Assistant Chief White’s tiny nod. His obvious approval made her heart swell with pride, which she quickly quashed. She was thirty-five, not fifteen. She didn’t need anyone’s approval, much less a cop’s.

Hands raised immediately.

Tabitha pointed at another reporter, though all she wanted to do was end the press conference. She’d already said everything there was to say. “You, in the white blouse.”

“Can you tell us a little more about the two hostages?” the woman asked. “Did you know them personally?”

“I do know them. I know all my employees personally. But I have to admit I know Caitlyn Matthews better than Dr. Walters. She’s a lovely young woman and one of the best pediatric nurses we have.” Tabitha swallowed her emotions and continued. “I’ll do anything in my power to get the hostages back. Safely back.”

The sudden frown on Jake White’s face alarmed her. Had she said something wrong?

“The ransom Mr. Hines is demanding is a baby from the hospital nursery, isn’t it?” a male reporter called. “Surely you’re not planning to give him one.”

“Of course not.” Tabitha straightened. “The demand is preposterous. There’s no way we can—”

“The press conference is officially over.”

The loud announcement from the back of the room caught everyone, including Tabitha, by surprise. Since only one person could have given the command, her eyes immediately sought Jake White. He strode toward the podium, separating the crowd of reporters like Moses parting the Red Sea.

Suddenly she was twelve again, giving a report at a Girl Scout meeting that should have earned her the astronomy badge. She looked up from her notes and saw her father storming into the room. He grabbed her by her green cotton collar and dragged her from the room, growling that she had to go home and clean up the mess she’d made cooking his supper.

She never went to a meeting again.

Forcing the image away, Tabitha’s eyes narrowed as she watched Jake approach.

Every head in the room swung to watch him. Cameras tracked his progress to the dais. Reporters threw questions at him as he passed.

He ignored them all and just kept coming.

Chief Terry tapped Tabitha on the shoulder. Startled, she glanced at him. Since he obviously wanted the mike, she stepped back.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the chief said with obvious relief, “I’d like to introduce Assistant Police Chief Jake White of the Mission Creek Police Department. Assistant Chief White is a much-decorated veteran of the Houston and Mission Creek police departments and has extensive experience in hostage situations. He’s going to be the point man for the current crisis.”

Assistant Chief White took the two steps leading up to the podium in one. Before turning to the crowd, he paused and met Tabitha’s gaze.

Her breath froze in her lungs at the intensity in his pale green eyes. The shouting of reporters dimmed to an indecipherable clamor, background noise that seemed to have nothing to do with them.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was probably just a few seconds, Jake gave her a small smile and nod, then turned away.

Air whooshed into Tabitha’s lungs, sending shards of heat spiking through her. She knew the sudden flush would be evident on her pale complexion and was thankful that Jake was now in the spotlight instead of her. No matter how rudely he’d commandeered it.

For goodness’ sake, what was wrong with her? She was in the most crucial situation she’d ever been in, would likely ever be in. A situation that could make or break her career as a hospital administrator. And she was acting about as professional as a teenager ogling a boy from behind the counter of a fast-food restaurant.

In walked Jake and—

Tabitha barely restrained a groan.

When had he become Jake instead of Assistant Chief White?

What the hell was wrong with her?

She wasn’t interested in this man, no matter how attractive he was. No matter how attracted he seemed to be to her. No matter how chiseled his jaw. No matter how his jeans stretched across his tight rear end. No matter how broad his shoulders were in the dark green golf shirt that stretched across his back and molded to muscles that had her fingers aching to—

Tabitha cut herself off with a silent curse.

She couldn’t be interested in this man. He was a cop, for heaven’s sake, right down to his bones. She would have recognized the signs even if she hadn’t already known.

The arrogance. The swaggering confidence. The ability to silence a room with a single sentence. The ability to make her want to please him.

Her eyes narrowed.

There was no way in hell she was interested in this man. She was immune to cops. She’d had eighteen long years of daily inoculations.

Pulling her mind away from the past—her only defense against the emotional damage her father had done to her—Tabitha concentrated on the proceedings.

She was going to be working closely with this man for who knew how long—until Cait and Dr. Walters were safely home—so it was imperative that she keep this on a professional level.

Assistant Chief White had answered several questions about his experience with hostage situations, and when he’d said his piece, he ended the press conference. “We’ll keep you informed. There’ll be two daily press conferences, morning and afternoon. More if there are any significant developments.”

The reporters continued shouting questions, but Jake turned his back on them. His eyes sought Tabitha first, then his attention was pulled away by Burl Terry. He conferred for a moment with his boss, then stepped over to Tabitha. He gestured toward the dais steps. “Miss Monroe.”

Tabitha lifted her chin. She was not going to let him escort her out of here by the scruff of her collar. “Why did you cut me off so rudely?”

His right eyebrow quirked upward. “There are reasons. Please…”

Again he indicated the steps.

Tabitha frowned. He said please. Her father had never said please, or thank-you.

Okay, so he was a polite cop. He was still a cop. “What reasons?”

“We’ll discuss them in your office.”

“I want to know n—”

“Not here. You don’t know how sensitive these mikes are. We have a lot more than that to discuss, but I’d like to do it in the privacy of your office. Please show me the way.”

Tabitha nodded once, briefly, then stepped down from the dais. He was being perfectly logical and reasonable. She had to be the same. She couldn’t let what had happened to her in the past color the present situation. The one thing had nothing to do with the other.

Stepping onto the carpet, Tabitha was surrounded by an impenetrable wall of reporters, half of whom shoved microphones in her face and shouted questions. Each tried to be heard over the others, but the result was cacophony.

Suddenly Jake’s hand connected firmly with the small of her back. The electrical charge that shot up Tabitha’s spine made her eyes widen and the breath catch in her throat. She couldn’t answer a question even if she was able to distinguish one reporter’s voice from the others.

Jake put out one arm like a shield in front of her and began pushing their way through the crowd. “No more questions now. We’ll let you know if something happens.”

His deep bass voice carried easily under the strident cries of the reporters who, miraculously, let them pass.

After the shock of his touch was over, when she realized it wasn’t intended to be sexual—though it sure as heck felt sexual—Tabitha relaxed and let Jake guide her through the reporters and out the door.

“Tough crowd, huh?”

She glanced at him, but his attention was down the hall. “I can’t believe there are so many.”

He shrugged. “It’s Hines’s demand. Babies always make good copy.”

Police officers were stationed at close intervals down the hall. They all smiled at Jake as they walked toward the elevators or told him how relieved they were he’d finally made it. Tabitha could see it in their eyes. Jake’s presence made them feel safe, made them feel that everything was going to be all right.

Jake White had served on the Mission Creek Police Department for over a year, and the department had full confidence in his ability to handle the situation.

Tabitha didn’t feel safe until they entered the sanctuary of her office.

 

Jake didn’t realize he still had his hand on Tabitha’s back until he paused at the door of her office and she stepped away from him.

His hand suddenly felt cold, bereft.

Jake cursed under his breath. This shouldn’t be happening. The first rule of hostage negotiation was never get emotionally involved with anyone connected to the hostages. Not only was it unprofessional, not only did it cloud your vision and color your decisions, but relationships forged in crisis situations were doomed from the start.

Not that he wanted anything heavy. A failed marriage had taught him that he was too dedicated a cop to be dedicated to a family.

Still he hadn’t had a steady girlfriend since moving to Mission Creek over a year ago. He missed having someone to have dinner with when he wasn’t working. Someone who gave a damn whether he came home at night, or came home at all. Regular sex.

With that thought, Jake’s gaze dropped to Tabitha’s cute little butt swaying across the room as she retreated to the power position behind her desk. But it wasn’t her butt that had first caught his libido’s attention.

Tabitha turned to face him, her incredibly blue eyes wide and questioning.

It was that damned mole.

He’d spotted Tabitha’s mole the instant he’d walked in the door of the conference room downstairs, and his body had reacted the same way it reacted years ago when he’d first laid eyes on a picture of Marilyn Monroe.

He’d had a weakness for women with moles ever since then. Especially when the woman who sported the mole had a lush body like Marilyn’s, made for a man’s hands to roam. He was not attracted to model-thin women. He wanted a woman to have curves, not angles.

Tabitha Monroe had plenty of curves. He could tell even through the navy-blue silk designer suit she wore.

There were other similarities. Tabitha had the same last name as Marilyn. Hell, she even vaguely resembled the movie star.

Tabitha’s blond hair wasn’t Marilyn’s bleached blond, but it was shoulder length and worn in the soft curls similar to the actress’s in one of his favorite photos, taken in the late 1940s. Tabitha’s mouth—so close beside that feminine little mole—was wide, though her lips were pursed at the moment with what was undoubtedly worry. Her expression reminded him so much of Marilyn’s pout that all he could think of doing was sucking Tabitha’s bottom lip into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue.

“Assistant Chief White?”

Jake started back to reality. Reminded so rudely of the current situation and the futility of his desire, he spoke a little harsher than he meant to and before he thought through what he was going to say. “Call me Jake.”

He was as surprised as she at the words that came out of his mouth.

Why the hell had he said that? Using first names was definitely not in line with keeping things professional.

Her little chin lifted. “There’s no need to growl at me. You’re the one who dragged me up here to lecture me on everything I did wrong at the press conference.”

“I didn’t drag you,” he said defensively. “And I certainly didn’t bring you here to—”

The sound of tinkling water distracted him. The gurgling was so out of place in an executive’s office, he glanced around for the source. In a corner behind Tabitha’s desk sat one of those small tabletop water fountains. Built like a mini Buddhist temple, the water ran down the steps on one side onto polished rocks below.

His attention already diverted from Tabitha, he took advantage of sanity’s return and slowly looked around.

At first glance, a visitor might just think she’d overdecorated with a Chinese motif. But Jake had worked for years with a tae kwon do master in Houston, and he knew better.

Plants in colorful pots grew everywhere, including several bonsai. Mirrors and bamboo flutes hung on the walls. A menagerie of carved Chinese animals, including several dragons, were scattered here and there. A lighted fish tank hummed merrily on a green table. Round, faceted crystals suspended on the windows flashed spectrums around the room. Stones carved with Chinese calligraphy sat among the profusion.

Several conversation areas were arranged around the large office. One round, one square, one with the furniture placed randomly. Each shape was supposed to generate a certain mood, but he had no idea what. He’d never paid that much attention.

One of the groups sported a red couch, which he had to drag his eyes away from.

His gaze making the full circle of the room back to Tabitha, he grinned. “You’ve feng shuied this place to death.”

The amusement in his voice wasn’t lost on her, because her sky-blue eyes narrowed. “It’s not ‘shoey.’ It’s pronounced more like a Yiddish version of ‘sway.’ More like ‘shway.”’

“I see.” He strolled around the room, running a finger along a jade dragon here, peering at a painting of a gnarled pine tree clinging to a mountainside there.

“I have to see a lot of people in my office. Potential employees. Worried, sometimes grieving families. Vendors. I find it helps everyone if we can talk in harmonious surroundings.”

“I see.” Interesting. Her voice was defensive. A little too sensitive about her decor?

“It helps me, too. Very relaxing. You should try it sometime.”

Jake hid a smile by bending over to peer into the fish tank. If defense doesn’t work, try offense. She was using one of his own favorite tactics.

She stopped talking, and he smiled again. Silence. The best tactic of all. And it went so well with her Zen style of decorating.

He straightened and twisted to say something, but his comment stuck in his throat when she dragged her eyes upward with a startled expression.

She’d been checking out his butt.

Heat seared through him.

She cleared her throat. “Gardening is wonderful for reducing stress.”

Okay. So they were going to ignore the sparks threatening to set all this feng shui on fire.

Disappointed, but knowing it was the smartest thing to do, he moved to stand directly in front of her desk. “It’s hard to grow bonsai in a squad car.”

“The plants don’t have to be bonsai. You could try it in your hou—”

“I didn’t bring you up to your office to lecture you.”

She blinked, then threw the meaningless words he’d used back in his face. “I see.”

Damn, she was quick. The abrupt change of subject hadn’t thrown her, as he’d meant it to.

That was good. Yet it wasn’t.

The only thing he hadn’t liked about Marilyn Monroe was her weak sex-kitten nature. He was attracted to strong, smart women. Women who gave back as good as he gave. Women who caught on quickly to his games and played them every bit as hard as he did.

When Cindy Crawford had burst on the scene, he’d quickly switched his allegiance to her. There was a brief two-year stint of unfaithfulness—his marriage to one of Houston’s prosecuting attorneys. But Jake barely counted that because his ex-wife’s name was Cindy. That was what he called her, anyway, even when she insisted on the more laywerlike Cynthia.

“So why did you cut me off in midsentence and drag—Oh, pardon me. Why did you escort me up here?”

“I had to end the press conference because you were about to cut off any hope for negotiation with Hines, and a hopeless hostage taker is a desperate hostage taker. No telling what he’ll do.”

Tabitha frowned and finally sat, though only on the front few inches of her leather executive chair. “You mean by telling him I won’t give him a baby from the hospital’s maternity ward?”

“Right.” She really did catch on quick. He was impressed…and turned on as hell.

Damn. He needed to get out of here and cool off. Luckily he had the perfect excuse. He just had to take advantage of it before he did something stupid. Real stupid.

Her eyes focused on his face. “But I won’t give him a baby.”

“Of course you won’t.” Instead of walking out the door like he should have, Jake sat in one of the chairs facing her desk. “But you can’t tell Hines that. Especially not on national television. He’s taken hostages and threatened to kill them. If you cut off his options, he may feel he doesn’t have any choice but to do that.”

“Oh, my.” Tabitha sucked in a tiny, horrified breath. “I haven’t killed Cait and Sam, have I?”

“I didn’t say that.” Jake slid forward on the chair, barely stopping himself from reaching for the hands she’d splayed on her desk. “You did okay. I just needed to stop you before you went any further.”

She studied him across the desk as if he were an alien whose antennae had suddenly popped from his head.

She stared so long and so blatantly, he rubbed his chin. “Is my makeup coming off?”

She blinked. “Makeup?”

“The makeup that hides my purple scales. All the best space invaders are wearing them these days.”

Color tinged her cheek and she dropped her gaze to her uncluttered desk. “Sorry.” Then she glanced back up. “You really think I did okay?”

He tried not to frown at this glimpse of insecurity. “Of course you did. You don’t know the rules of hostage negotiation, or how to use the media to help you win. That is, you don’t know the rules yet. After I check on what’s being done to find Hines, I’m going to give you a few lessons.”

“I attended a crisis management seminar a few years ago.”

He nodded. “That’s good. But believe me, you can’t learn in any seminar what you’re going to need to know in the next few days. You can only do it right when you’ve had a baptism of fire.”

“I definitely want to do it right. I have to.”

“You will. Don’t worry. I’ll be beside you every step of the way.”

“Every step?”

“Well…” His mind filled with images of where “every step” might lead them, like straight to the red couch against the wall.

Damn, he had all the self-control of a thirteen-year-old.

Jake frowned. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his self-control. “Maybe not every step.”

They stared across the desk for several long seconds, the only sounds the tinkling water fountain, the hum of the fish tank and the whoosh of heavy breathing.

Realizing the heavy breathing was his, Jake slapped his thighs and stood. “I need to check on things.”

Tabitha’s spine straightened, making her several inches taller in the chair. “What things?”

“Search tactics. Security measures. Telephone recording equipment.”

“Whose conversations are you recording?”

He hesitated before saying, “Yours.”

“Mine?” Her eyes widened. “You think he’s going to call me? Because I’m in charge of the hospital?”

Actually, there were several reasons Tabitha had made herself the focal point for Hines during the press conference. Jake was ninety-nine-percent certain Hines’s calls would be to her. But there was no point in worrying her now. There would be time enough to explain how things worked…and sometimes didn’t. “That’s part of the reason. I’ll explain everything when I get back. Be here. I don’t want you going anywhere without me. Understand?”

She frowned. “I can’t just—”

“Oh, yes, you can and you will. You’ll do everything I tell you. You’ll sit when I tell you to sit. You’ll eat when I tell you to eat. You’ll stay where I—”

“Wait just a gosh darned minute!” Tabitha stood to face him. “I have a hospital to run, with over a hundred employees on every shift who—”

“You have two employees who need you much more than all those hundreds put together.” Jake leaned toward her. “Two employees who are God knows where, shoved into God only knows what conditions. They’re definitely suffering mental anguish, but there may be physical pain, as well.”

Tabitha sat again, hard. “Don’t say that. I can’t stand to think of them tortured.”

Satisfied that he’d put the fear of God into her, Jake straightened. “Stay put. I’ll be back in a little while.”

“What if he calls?” She shivered.

To keep from reaching for her, Jake turned toward the door. “He won’t. It’s too soon.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Trust me.”

Silence accompanied him to the door, as did a feeling of eyes burning into his back. At the door, he couldn’t resist turning. Sure enough, she was watching him, though she wasn’t concentrating on his butt.

Calling himself all kinds of a moron for feeling disappointed, he asked, “You okay?”

She blinked, as if surprised to be asked. “Of course. I’m always okay.”

He nodded, understanding more than she knew. She was a control freak just like him.

Great. Two bullheaded people who had to pussyfoot around each other because all they wanted to do was rip each other’s clothes off. They couldn’t even acknowledge their desire, much less do anything about it.

This was not going to be an easy job. Interesting, but definitely not easy.

“Assistant Chief White?”

“Yes? You can drop the ‘Assistant,’ by the way.”

She nodded. “Do you really believe we’ll have them back in a few days?”

“I hope so. Hines doesn’t have too many places to hide.”

Her clenched fist struck the pad on her desk. “Jeez, I hate this! I feel so helpless.”

“I know.” That was one feeling he knew very well.

“If I had Branson Hines in my office for just five seconds, I’d—”

“Feng shui him to death?”

Tabitha’s gaze flicked guiltily around her office, then she let a deep breath out on a sigh. “Sorry.”

“You’d turn him over to the closest police officer, like you should.” Jake smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry. We’ll get your employees back.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated.

“No. You can’t promise,” she said. “Anything can happen.”

“That’s true.”

Her frown deepened. “At least you didn’t try to lie to me.”

Jake wasn’t above lying. Sometimes lying was kinder and made his job easier. With a sick feeling, however, he realized he didn’t want to lie to Tabitha. With an even sicker feeling, he realized he probably couldn’t.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud.

Her wince was barely noticeable. “Fine. Go.”

Cussing inwardly at his sudden lack of self-control, he growled, “Stay in your office.”

“Why should I, if Hines is not going to—”

“Stay.” Before she could utter another syllable, Jake turned and strode from the room.

 

Jake returned two hours later in a much better mood.

He was riding a high that came from finally having something substantial to do, after a year of doing nothing but chasing drunk cowboys down jackrabbit holes.

He’d known when he’d taken Burl’s offer that he’d be twiddling his thumbs for a couple of years. Burl had known it, too. That’s why he’d locked Jake in with a two-year contract. But the Mission Creek police chief had been so desperate for good leadership after the money-laundering scandal in the force here, he’d given Jake an offer he couldn’t refuse. Not only was it a substantial raise in pay, but a promotion he might never have gotten in the rigid hierarchy of the Houston Police Department, with all their civil service guidelines. Small-town departments operated by their own rules, and Jake had come with enough verifiable credentials to satisfy the harshest critics.

Jake never thought he’d have something like hostages to sink his teeth into. Not that he was glad it had happened. Still, since it had, he was glad he was the one with enough experience to take command.

This was going to look damn good on his résumé.

Jake paused at door to the anteroom outside Tabitha’s office. The secretary’s area was abuzz with activity, crawling with uniformed officers and technical experts setting up the communications command post.

Not that they had much in the way of communications equipment. Hell, the wiretapping machines were so old, they would have to do a manual trace on all calls.

As frustrating as the sorry state of the MCPD’s electronic surveillance equipment was, it wasn’t enough to bring Jake down from his high.

That dubious honor went to Miss Tabitha Monroe when he walked into her office to find it empty. He searched it in disbelief, throwing open the doors to the closet and her private bathroom.

“Where the hell is she? Does she think we’re playing a game?”

A middle-aged officer who’d been setting up the shortwave radio peeked around the doorjamb. “Did you say something, sir?”

“Where did she go?”

“Who? The blonde? She said she had to go down to the nursery.”

“I see. She had to go.” He stormed through the door.

“That’s what she said,” the officer called after him.

The elevators were directly across from Tabitha’s office. Jake marched over and punched the call button. Neither opened immediately, so he paced back and forth between the two doors.

If Miss Monroe thought she could skip out on him any time she wanted to do God knows what, she didn’t know who she was dealing with. He had a harder head and a stronger will than anyone he’d ever met.

Impatient with the slow ascent of the elevator, Jake strode to the stairwell at the end of the hall and took the stairs two at a time.

Time was important though not critical. But the frustration he’d felt when dealing with her earlier had returned and a little physical activity might help.

Jake’s lungs hadn’t even begun to strain when he shoved open the door to the second floor. The new maternity wing—dedicated only a couple of months ago—was a two-story structure tacked on at a perpendicular angle to the hospital’s east wing. Delivery and waiting rooms were on the first floor, with the nursery and mothers’ rooms on the second.

He spotted Tabitha as soon as he rounded the corner from the east wing into the addition.

The lit hallway testified that they’d fixed the electrical outage caused by Hines to distract the staff long enough to grab hostages. Now they were moving patients and equipment back into the new wing.

Tabitha was helping a nurse push a crib down the hall. He watched her until they turned the crib sideways and disappeared through the nursery door.

Jake’s eyes narrowed, and another part of his good mood slipped away.

She had disobeyed his direct order to stay in her office because of this? What if Hines had called?

The hospital staff moved out of his way as he marched down the hall.

He didn’t blame them.

When he reached the nursery, he peered through the windowed wall.

Tabitha patted the arm of a nurse who wore a worried expression, obviously trying to soothe fears about the hostage taking. The middle-aged nurse seemed to hang on Tabitha’s every word, gathering courage from whatever it was she was saying.

The evidence that Tabitha hadn’t left her office frivolously—that she was doing something important, something probably only she could do—should have eased Jake’s ire. With anyone else, it would have.

But as she talked he could see Tabitha’s mole move, and his traitorous libido kicked in.

He cursed loud enough for a passing nurse to jump sideways, and the last shred of his good mood vanished.

The tight-as-a-stretched-wire sexual tension he’d experienced when he was with her earlier had eased while he had something more important to think about. He couldn’t say it had left completely. His good mood had been built on the pleasure she’d sent zinging through his veins. But the desire wasn’t so strong it bordered on painful.

In fact, his good mood had increased when he realized that, because it meant he could control it. Or so he’d thought.

All he had to do was see her and heat shot through him like fire across bone-dry grass.

With another livid curse, he walked into the nursery, stopping several yards behind her.

The nurse Tabitha was talking to saw him immediately and frowned, making Tabitha turn.

“Jake!” Her smile vanished the instant she saw him, which irritated him even further. “I mean…Chief White.” She glanced at her watch. “Goodness, it’s been over an hour. I didn’t mean to be gone so—”

“Miss Monroe, I need to speak with you privately.”

She straightened at his clipped tone. “Of course. I was just—”

He grabbed her elbow and started walking down the hall.

She tried to pull free. When she couldn’t, she said under her breath, “You don’t have to manhandle me. I’m capable of walking on my own.”

“I know. You walked out of your office quick enough.” Since he didn’t want to drag her up six flights, he punched the elevator call button.

She yanked her arm again. This time he let her go.

“I have responsibilities,” she said.

“Moving gurneys is in your job description?”

She yanked on the hem of her jacket to straighten what was already straight. For an instant, her ripe, full breasts were outlined clearly by the silk.

Jake bit off another curse. For something to do, he pressed the call button again. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a randy teenager.

“I’m not above moving gurneys, or whatever needs to be done,” she explained tightly. “Especially now, when everyone is so frightened. It’s important that they see I’m not afraid to work in the new wing. And on top of everything else that’s happened, it’s Saturday of Labor Day weekend. We’re shorthanded.”

He glanced up at the floor indicator above the elevator door and muttered, “Where have I heard that before?”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He punched the call button again.

“Pushing the button twenty times doesn’t help, you know.”

“It helps me,” he growled.

She lifted a pale eyebrow. “What’s put you in such a foul mood?”

He glared at her. “Take a wild guess.”

“It’s not as if I left the building. I told the officers where I was going, and that’s exactly where you found me, isn’t it?”

The elevator finally dinged and the doors slid open. He placed an arm over one door to prevent it from closing, then jerked his head toward the car. “Let’s go.”

She stepped in, but not quickly enough to suit his mood, so he crowded her from behind.

She spun to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Am I not allowed to leave my office until Hines calls?”

He punched the button for the eighth floor. “With permission, maybe.”

Two more people walked onto the elevator.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He glared at her as the elevator doors slid closed. “Do you want to talk about this now or in your office?”

A shadow of fear darkened her blue eyes for the briefest instant before she glanced away. Her jaw was rigid as she said, “You’re right.”

One person got off on the fourth floor, the other on the seventh.

When the elevator reached their destination, Jake indicated that she precede him. He took her elbow again as she did.

She yanked it away. “Please. I’m not a child.”

His eyes raked down her body. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Comprehension flooded her face, and she sucked in a shallow breath.

His gaze locked onto hers. What he saw did not help him cool off. Confusion. Hunger. Questions. But not a damn bit of revulsion, which would have relieved the situation because it would have killed his own desire.

“Afternoon, Miss Monroe.” A hospital employee passed them, startling them both.

Tabitha gave the man a halfhearted smile. “Good afternoon, Sid.”

“Let’s go to your office.” Jake didn’t grab her elbow. Instead, he placed a hand on the small of her back.

She didn’t pull away.

Though only a few feet, the walk to her office seemed endless. When they reached the anteroom, only one technical officer was there, engrossed in wiring pulled from a wall.

Jake closed her office door behind them.

She turned with wide eyes. “That’s not a good idea.”

“You want to talk about this with the door open?”

Her gaze shifted to a point behind him. “Talk about what?”

“Yeah, right.” He stepped close. Only inches from her body, he could feel its warmth. His nostrils filled with a sweet floral scent underlying the more powerful smell of woman. “We can’t ignore this. It’s too damn strong.”

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you don’t. You’re as hot for me as I am for you.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t be. This is highly inappropriate.”

“Tell me about it.”

She lifted her face. “Not to mention unprofessional.”

“Extremely unprofessional.” He stared at the mole, just inches from his mouth.

“I don’t like it.”

“Me, neither. But it’s there, and it’s real, and it doesn’t seem to be going away.”

“Surely there’s something we can do.”

“I can think of lots of things, all of which you’d like—that I can promise—but none of which we can do with men right outside the door.”

She backed up a step. “We can’t work together like this. Perhaps you should take yourself off the case.”

He smiled tightly. “The only reason I haven’t, beside it being the only thing in the past year remotely interesting, is I know Burl wouldn’t let me. I’m the only man he’s got with any inkling of what to do. None of our men have worked in a hostage situation.”

“Then what? Ignore it?”

“How long do you think that would work? Hell, we’ve only known each other a few hours and we’re ready to rip each other’s clothes off.”

She gasped. “I certainly—”

“Don’t go getting all indignant. I’ve seen you checking out my butt.”

She glared at him but didn’t deny it.

Encouraged, he took a step closer. “I can think of only one way to relieve the tension.”

She regarded him suspiciously. “What? Sleep together?”

“A kiss. That’s all. For now. Just a kiss.”

She sucked in a tiny breath, and her gaze dropped to his lips.

His heart shifted into overdrive.

The tiny movement, so full of sexual curiosity, was all the permission he needed. Sliding his arms around her, he smothered her sudden “but” with his mouth.