Jake insisted on driving, even though it was Tabitha’s car. He didn’t think they’d have to resort to evasive maneuvers, but if they did he needed to be in control. He didn’t tell her about the danger, of course, because the possibility was so remote.

To approach her in person with so many police around, Hines would have to be much more aggressive than his profile indicated. He seemed to be the kind of criminal who preferred slinking through the shadows.

Jake was surprised when Tabitha didn’t put up a fight, just handed him the keys with a sigh.

Caitlyn Matthews lived in a small garage apartment in an older neighborhood of Mission Creek, just a few blocks from downtown. Her landlady was a Mrs. Brody, who’d lived in the house in front of the garage since she married nearly fifty years ago. The two-story white frame house had been built around the time of World War I. The ground floor had a deep shady porch that wrapped all the way around.

Euclid was a quiet street, with many older residents like Mrs. Brody who knew who belonged there and who didn’t.

Jake approved of that. Neighbors who watched out for each other kept crime down, and older people had little else to do but watch what went on around them.

Even so, he paused to glance around before pulling into the driveway. The sun had almost disappeared below the horizon, leaving the gray light of dusk. Streetlights had already come on, throwing shadows across the yards.

A squad car waited on either end of the street and officers would watch for anyone heading toward the house. Jake had his cell phone attached to his belt so he could be warned if anyone remotely matching Hines’s description turned down Euclid Street.

“What’s wrong?” Tabitha asked from the passenger seat.

“Nothing.” He finally pulled into the driveway. “Just looking around.”

Mrs. Brody’s back light was on as they came along the driveway. She waved from her back porch when they pulled up to the stairs leading to Caitlyn’s apartment.

“Hello, Mrs. Brody,” Tabitha called as she got out of the car. “You doing okay?”

“Oh, I’m tolerable well, but what happened to poor Cait is just awful.” The older woman took the steps down from the porch very slowly. “I’ve never heard of such goings-on. Not in Mission Creek. And I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Mrs. Brody, this is Jake White, the Assistant Police Chief. He’s in charge of the rescue effort.”

“You the one responsible for all this, young man?” Mrs. Brody asked.

“Well, ma’am, I’m not the one responsible for it happening, but I’m the one responsible for cleaning up the mess.”

“Well, I reckon you’ve got the experience to handle it.” She turned to Tabitha. “And I reckon you need me to let you in.”

“Actually, Mrs. Brody, I have Caitlyn’s keys. She was on the floor when it happened, so her purse was at the nurses’ stand. One of the other nurses on the shift brought it to me for safekeeping.” Tabitha drew Caitlyn’s keys from her own purse. “But I don’t know which key it is. Can you show me?”

Mrs. Brody’s age-spotted, gnarly hands picked out a gold-toned key with a crisscross top. “There it is. Glad you got it. It’s not easy for these old bones to climb those steep stairs. I’ll just get on back to my supper. I always eat at six, you know. Have y’all had something to eat?”

“We’re fine, Mrs. Brody. Please go back to your supper,” Tabitha said. “We’re just going to make sure Billy’s okay.”

“All right, then. Let me know if y’all need anything.” The old woman turned to climb the four steps leading up to her porch.

Jake and Tabitha headed toward the garage. The light on the landing into Caitlyn’s apartment had come on while they were talking to Mrs. Brody. Light- or motion-activated, no doubt.

“Why did you say we’re fine?” Jake asked. “I’m starving, and I’ll bet she’s a great cook.”

“You’re right, she is.” Tabitha paused on the first step. “The devil’s food cake she brings to the hospital bake sale would make you drool on sight. But if we ate her food, she wouldn’t be able to feed herself anything but crackers for a week. She’s a widow on a fixed income. She has it very hard.”

Jake peered through the dim light at the house. He’d been too busy earlier checking for possible threats to notice the subtle signs of neglect—peeling paint, patched roof, missing shutters.

“You coming?”

He turned to see Tabitha halfway up the stairs. She’d twisted to look back over her shoulder, and the angle made her silk suit swath around every curve of her lithe, luscious body.

Suddenly Jake’s hunger changed to a different kind altogether.

What he wouldn’t give to see Tabitha in a white silk dress like Marilyn wore in The Seven Year Itch. The desire was so strong, he actually wondered where he could buy one.

Realizing how far he was letting his fantasies go, he shook his head. He was not going to get in deep enough to buy Tabitha anything beyond dinner—and that he could charge to the department. The more time he spent with her, the more he knew she was not a casual fling kind of woman. And he certainly wasn’t a permanent relationship kind of man.

“Yeah, I’m coming. Don’t go in without me.”

She continued up the stairs. “Going to protect me from the big, bad cat?”

“If I—” Jake’s retort was choked off as his gaze lifted and landed on her bottom.

With each step Tabitha took, silk stretched across first one round, firm cheek, then the other.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. All he could do was watch as each step she gained sent torturous waves of heat firing through him.

Finally she reached the top and turned. “Well?”

Jake swallowed hard. And he’d thought she was sexy just standing there. Climbing the stairs, she was the most arousing sight he’d ever seen.

He had to get a grip on himself, though the grip he wanted was her sweet little—

“Are you coming or not?”

Damn, it was going to be a long night.

“Almost,” he said wryly, then took the stairs two at a time, thanking God and every angel watching over him that she didn’t understand the double meaning.

She gave him an odd look—making him wonder if she had—then she seemed to dismiss him as she turned and held the screen door open with her hip so she could fit the key into the lock. “I don’t want to hold the door open too long. We might let the cat out.”

Jake drew his gun from the holster at his back.

Tabitha frowned at the gun. “Is that necessary? Billy is big, as cats go, but I think you can take him.”

He grinned. Damn, she was fun, and in the way he liked best—smart and sassy. “You can never be too careful. Okay. Push the door open, but stay out here until I give you the all clear.”

She shoved the door open, then let the screen close behind him.

Jake stepped into the living room, giving the room a quick sweep, then performed the same search on the bedroom after flipping on the lights in the bathroom and closet that separated them. Since the kitchen was part of the living room, divided from it by a counter, there were no more rooms left to search.

“All clear,” he called, holstering his gun as he walked through the short hallway between the main rooms. “But I don’t see any sign of a cat.”

The screen door squeaked. “You probably scared the poor thing to death. He was expecting his mama to come through the door, and you jump in pointing a gun at him.”

Jake stood in the doorway between the bedroom and living room, hands on his hips. “If I’d pointed my gun at any cat, I’d have seen him. What does he look like, anyway?”

Tabitha closed the wooden door behind her. “Kind of like Morris the cat. Remember on those commercials? He’s big and orange and his name is Billy the Kid.”

“Billy the Kid, huh? Maybe I need to keep my gun out.”

“Whatever pulls your trigger.” She bent to look under the coffee table. The pose wasn’t blatantly sexy, but the way her skirt stretched across her bottom again reminded him of the stairs. “Here, Billy boy. Come here, sweet little kitty.”

Jake groaned.

She peeked above the table. “Beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” He dragged his eyes away and forced them back to work.

Glancing around the room for a likely cat hole, he noticed the decor for the first time. The tiny apartment was actually quite inviting, in a homey way, especially for a garage apartment. The living room could have been in Ben Cartwright’s house, if one of the Ponderosa sons had been a decorator.

Adam, maybe?

The rooms were filled with what looked like Western furniture and stuff, for want of a better word. Antiques, from the look of it.

“How well do you know Caitlyn Matthews?” Jake asked.

Tabitha pulled her head from the living room closet. “Not all that well, to tell you the truth, but probably as well as anyone. When she first moved to Mission Creek, I tried to make her feel welcome. She reminds me a lot of me at her age. She’s just…not an easy person to get to know.”

“Is all this stuff antique?” He picked up a pair of silver-mounted, hand-forged cowboy spurs with engraved iron rowels. “It looks like it could be, but if it is, she must’ve been dealing drugs out of the hospital pharmacy. Stuff like this doesn’t come cheap.”

“Here, kitty, kitty.” Tabitha opened a kitchen cabinet. “I know there’s a cat here somewhere. His bowl still has food in it.” She opened the next cabinet. “I asked her about all these wonderful accent pieces when I came over the first time. She goes to a lot of garage and estate sales, all the ones she hears about within driving distance. Gets some amazing deals.”

“Accent pieces. So that’s what the term is for stuff.” Jake headed for the closet. “What do you mean, you know her as well as anyone? Not a friendly woman?”

“No, not really,” Tabitha said on her way into the bathroom, “though she’s a wonderful nurse, and cute as a button. I’m sure you’ve seen her picture since all this happened.”

He could hear the shower curtain holders scrape along the rod as she talked in a distracted way.

“But I don’t think she dates at all. And she doesn’t go out with friends to shop or eat or for a night at the Saddlebag. In fact, from what I can tell, she doesn’t really have any friends.”

“Well, I can tell you one thing about her,” Jake said from the closet.

“What?”

“She’s more than a tad anal retentive. All her clothes are lined up by color. They’re even arranged dark to light from left to right.”

He heard the linen closet open. “Hmm. I knew she always kept her station neat. I thought maybe it was a fluke the way she has all her spices lined up in alphabetical order and her drinking glasses arranged according to height. And this… I can understand grouping your towels by color and size, but her bath oils and salts are arranged in alphabetical order according to scent. She has dental supplies all lined up, and makeup all in a row.” The linen closet closed. “Jeez. I thought I was bad.”

“You’re just bad in another way,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned as he pushed back Caitlyn’s white clothes—mostly uniforms—to peer behind them. “You’d probably have a place like this, too, if you didn’t have a life.” He straightened and thought about what he’d just said. “You don’t, do you?”

“What?”

“Have a place like this.”

“Well, I’m organized, but—” Tabitha’s thought broke off as they met in the short hallway, having finished searching their respective areas at the same time.

Her bluebonnet eyes were wide as they met Jake’s, and he couldn’t tear his away.

Time seemed suspended as their gazes held. God, she was sexy. He wanted to feel the little nub of that mole against his lips, and his tongue, and his—

She tore her gaze from his and turned toward the bedroom, but stopped dead in the doorway and sent a furtive glance over her shoulder.

Heat flashed through him, because her tiny gesture told him that she’d realized immediately what room she was in and all that it implied, which told him that her libido had taken the same path his had.

His first step toward her, which he was barely aware of taking, sent her scurrying to the far side of the room.

“Where is that cat?” She knelt beside the bed to look under it. “Billy? Where are you, kitty?”

“I found a cat carrier in the closet.”

Her head popped above the mattress. “Do you think I should take him to my house?”

Jake lifted a shoulder. “Your call, but he’d probably be safer there.”

She frowned. “You think Branson Hines is going to come here?”

“No, not Hines, but other lowlifes might. It’s been known to happen. They know a place is empty, so they take advantage of it.”

“That’s despicable. To steal from someone who’s been kidnapped. Can you imagine going through such an ordeal, and then coming home to find all your stuff is gone?”

“Breaking and entering’s no fun for anyone, but I see your point.” Jake took the near side of the room, peering under the pine chest of drawers. “Maybe she lets Billy outside during the day?”

“No. Cait never lets Billy outside.”

“No claws?”

“Oh, he has claws. She’s just afraid he’ll run away.”

Jake nodded, then looked under the bed, even though Tabitha already had. “He’s got to be here somewhere.”

“I’m sure he is. He’s very good at hiding, though.” She looked around, hands planted on her hips. “The first time I came here, it was half an hour before I saw him. Cait said that the first time people visit, he runs and hides, but he eventually comes out. I think he’s okay after that. The second time I came over, he jumped on my lap as soon as I sat down. With Caitlyn, though, he comes running to greet her when she comes home.”

“Just like a dog.”

“Pretty much. He even comes to her when she calls him. Every time. It’s amazing.”

Jake stood and dusted off his hands, though just from habit. The floor was so clean he could eat off of it. “Why don’t we sit in the living room, then, and wait a while. Maybe he’ll come out and investigate.”

She lifted a pale eyebrow. “How about that. Sometimes cops do have good ideas.”

“Yeah, I’ve come up with one once or twice in my life.” Jake waved an arm toward the door for her to precede him.

She grinned as she swept through. “Then I won’t hold my breath for the next one.”

Her sweet little bottom wiggled out the door. Was she doing it on purpose? He wondered if she knew how much she tempted him…and he wondered how much he tempted her.

Tabitha sat in a red leather chair with pine arms that had horse silhouettes in several different postures painted on them.

Jake sat gingerly on a red brocade settee, which looked as if it might break if he sat too hard. It didn’t complain at his weight, though, so he leaned back.

He glanced up to find Tabitha grinning at him. “Am I amusing you?”

She tossed her head, making her curls bounce around her beautiful face. “Big men are so funny. Like a bull in a china shop.”

“This place is so small and cramped,” he complained. “And I’m not that big.”

“Six-what? Two? Three?”

He stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “Three.”

“About two hundred pounds?”

“Thereabouts.” He slapped his stomach. “Solid muscle, of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know.”

Just that quickly, she reminded him of the kiss they’d shared that morning. Shared, hell. Sizzled was more like it.

Jake wanted to kiss her again. He wished she was sitting beside him so he could pull her against his side. He’d rest his head on her soft blond hair and let his hand caress her shoulder, then—

Damn. He had to get his mind on other things.

Despite the desire churning his mind, he pulled out the question she hadn’t answered earlier. “You said Caitlyn reminded you of yourself at her age. What did you mean? You never did finish your thought. Do you have your socks folded in neat piles by color, too?”

Her smile faded a couple of shades. “No. I’m not that bad.”

“Then how do you think you’re like her?”

“It’s just…” Tabitha suddenly found a speck on her skirt fascinating. “She’s an only child who lived with just one parent. She’s had a pretty hard life.”

“Being the daughter of a cop is a hard life?”

She looked up, then pointedly away. “It can be.”

Recognizing the stubborn expression, Jake steered his questions in another direction for the moment. “How was Caitlyn’s life hard?”

Tabitha took a deep breath. “Hers was much worse than mine. She never knew her father, and her mother abandoned her when she was two. She was raised by a great-aunt, who died when she was four. So she was in and out of foster homes the rest of her childhood.”

“I thought you didn’t know much about Miss Matthews.”

Tabitha lifted a silk-clad shoulder. “I don’t know because she told me. There were enough clues in her human resources file, which I review, to make me do a little research.”

Jake nodded. He could certainly understand the need for information. “Foster homes can be rough. I’ve processed more than a few products of them over the years. I know there are some very good ones out there. Probably most of them are. But I also know it can be pretty tough on a kid. They get care, if they’re lucky, but they rarely get love.”

“Yes.”

He studied her lovely face as she stared thoughtfully at the polished pine coffee table. “There are a lot of things that are tough on a kid.”

Her gaze rose to his. “That’s true.”

“Like—”

“Meow.”

Relief washed across her face. “Billy boy? Where are you, silly Billy?”

An orange head peered around the end of the couch between them. Huge golden eyes studied Jake intently.

He slowly lowered his hand, palm up, toward the floor. “Hey there, big fella. Wanna come on over and—” He glanced up at Tabitha. “I don’t know. What do cats like to do?”

Her eyebrow quirked. “Rub themselves all over you.”

He straightened enough to put his hand on his knee. “Speaking for yourself, kitten?”

Her smile vanished. “I’m not a kitten.” She straightened her suit jacket. “I’m Tabitha Monroe, plain and simple.”

He already knew she didn’t have a middle name. Had her father not cared enough to give her one? “Well, Tabitha Monroe, as far as I can tell, there’s not a damn thing that’s simple about you.”

“Meow.”

Their gazes dropped to the cat.

The feline appeared to be indignant, probably at being ignored.

Jake smiled. “Women. Huh, fella? Can’t live with them, can’t put them in handcuffs. At least, not without permission or justifiable cause.”

“Cop humor?”

Jake ignored her comment and placed his hand near the floor again. “You gonna come here so we can get to know each other, Billy boy?”

The cat padded over cautiously, then very carefully stretched his neck until his nose was close enough to Jake’s hand to catch a good scent. Jake felt the cold nose bump his hand several times very lightly, like a butterfly’s touch.

Jake smiled at Tabitha, who watched them. “He tickles.”

She smiled back. “Cats have a much lighter touch than dogs. They’re a lot more subtle in their affections.”

“Give me a dog’s enthusiasm anytime. At least it’s honest.”

Billy took a small step forward and nuzzled his head against Jake’s palm. But when Jake turned his hand to pet Billy’s head, the cat skittered out of reach.

“Meow.”

Tabitha chuckled. “He knows you’re not a cat person.”

Jake shrugged. He wasn’t going to deny it. “You try.”

Tabitha leaned over slightly and patted her lap. “Hey, Billy. Remember me? Come on, boy. Jump up here and I’ll scratch behind your ears.”

The cat sniffed around her ankles, then gathered his hind legs under him and leaped lightly into her lap.

Tabitha grinned triumphantly. “Just takes the right touch.”

Jake lounged back against the couch. “You mean it takes a cat to know a cat…or kitten.”

She ignored his comment. “And the right scent, too, I imagine. I smell like the hospital, as Cait does.”

“I’ve been there all day, too,” Jake pointed out.

“Oh, that’s right. You have.”

She didn’t make any further comment, so Jake watched the cat stretch in her lap, enjoying the vigorous petting he received, letting her know with deep purring Jake could hear from where he sat. Tabitha scratched the sides of the furry head, kneaded her way lightly down the arched back, then wrapped her fist around the bushy tail and drew out the length.

Billy was in feline heaven. Finally, having discerned this human knew the preferred method of pleasing him, Billy settled across her lap.

“Shall I get the carrier?” Jake asked.

“Let’s give him a minute to get used to me.”

“Fine by me.”

He watched the petting action for several silent minutes, watched her hand stroke down the furry back, imagining what it felt like, wishing her hands were doing the same thing to him.

He shoved a hand back through his hair and suppressed a groan.

“What?” she asked quickly.

“Nothing.” Every damn thing she did made him want her. All she had to do was sit there and breathe. “Did you find cat food for us to take?”

She nodded. “And litter. We have to take the litter box, too, you know.”

“Great.”

She gave him a sideways grin. “Why don’t you go clean it out?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re not doing anything at the moment.”

Cursing under his breath, he started to rise.

“Easy, now. We don’t want to spook him.”

Jake glared at the cat. It was getting all the affection while he had to clean up the damn thing’s bathroom. But he stood nice and easy.

Billy turned his head to watch Jake, but didn’t move from his comfortable spot on Tabitha’s warm lap.

“That’s good,” she crooned. “You’re such a big fine boy, silly Billy.”

The cat blinked in what looked like orgasmic pleasure, and Jake spun toward the bathroom litter box before he did something stupid like haul the cat off her lap and crawl up there himself.

The litter box didn’t smell nearly as bad as he thought it would. Caitlyn Matthews’s ferocious cleaning habits extended to her cat, as well, thank God. After pulling the plastic lining over the edge, he saw that it worked like garbage bags with a pull-string closure.

Gathering it together, he walked back into the living room. “I’ll go ahead and take this out to the trash.”

Tabitha wrinkled her nose. “Good idea.”

“Gee. Two in one day.” He opened the door. “I must be living right.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.”

He butted the screen door open. “With you around? How could I?”

If she replied, he didn’t hear it, because he seized the opportunity for the last word and exited. From the vantage point of the landing, he looked around. Darkness had fallen while they were inside, but everything seemed to be normal. So he descended the stairs and deposited the litter bag in the metal trash can on the other side of the driveway.

Pulling the cell phone from his belt, he checked in with his men at the hospital. Everything was quiet.

Satisfied that his instincts were right, and that Hines wouldn’t make a move or call until at least tomorrow, if not for a couple more days, Jake took the stairs quickly and pulled open the screen door. “Now what?”

She glanced down at the cat in her lap. “I guess get the carrier. We can gather his food and other stuff after we get him secure.”

Jake nodded, then turned down the short hallway again. He pulled the small padded carrier from the shelf above the hanging clothes and carried it into the living room.

Billy’s head came up as Jake approached.

“Uh-oh,” Tabitha said. “He’s getting tense.”

Jake opened the little door. “Let’s get him into it quickly, then.”

When Tabitha wrapped her hands around the cat’s stomach to pick him up, Billy started howling and writhing in her hands.

“Ow!” she cried as she shoved him in.

Jake closed door on the outraged cat and made sure it would stay closed. “What happened?”

Tabitha held her right hand to her mouth. “He bit me.”

“Well, don’t…” Jake pulled her hand from her mouth. “What are you trying to do, suck out the poison?”

“I don’t know. It hurts.”

She tried to draw her hand back, but Jake held on. “Let me see.”

There were tiny teeth marks on the pad at the base of her thumb that seeped blood.

“It’s not too bad, but we’d better get it clean,” he said over the cat’s caterwauling. “Let’s see if Miss Matthews is as anal about medical supplies as she is about everything else.”

“She’s a nurse,” Tabitha pointed out. “So she should be.”

Jake wrapped his hand around both of Tabitha’s wrists and pulled her to her feet. He turned toward the bathroom, towing Tabitha along by her uninjured hand.

Feeling like a child, she tried to back away. “I can do it.”

Jake held on. “Don’t make it worse.”

“That’s not the hand that’s bleeding.”

He pulled her into the bathroom. Keeping a hand on her wrist as if he was afraid she’d run away, he lowered the lid on the toilet seat and ordered, “Sit.”

Since she didn’t have any choice, Tabitha sat. “This is silly. It’ll be okay.”

He gave her a withering glance from the medicine chest. “It’s a puncture wound, which means the germs sank deep underneath your skin. Seems as if you’d know such basic first aid, Miss Hospital Administrator.”

“I do, it’s just—”

“Ah, iodine.” He glanced her. “Just what?”

Tabitha held up her injured hand as an excuse to look down, away from his see-through-her eyes. It was just that she’d never had anyone fuss over her before. Not for something so minor. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Iodine hurts.”

“Not as much as getting an infection would,” he said mercilessly. He doused a cotton ball, then held out his hand. “Let me see.”

She held out her left hand for the cotton ball. “Give it to me and I’ll do it.”

“Oh, no.” He held the iodine-soaked cotton out of reach. “You’ll be all prissy like a girl and not get the medicine where it needs to go.”

“I am a girl,” she reminded him.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed. Quit stalling.”

Feeling a frown all the way across her forehead, she gave up and extended her hand. She expected a first-aid assault, not the tender care with which he dabbed the medicine on her upturned palm.

She gasped as the first iodine hit raw skin.

He quickly pulled the cotton ball away and blew on the wound.

His warm breath tickled, but didn’t make Tabitha want to pull her hand away. Just the opposite. She’d never felt anything quite so sensuous.

Just the thought made a shiver run along her arm.

“Does it hurt?” he asked as he straightened and applied the iodine again.

She shook her head. “Why did you do that?”

“What?”

“Blow on it.”

His eyes seemed surprised as they met hers. “I don’t know. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Well, yes, but I wondered if there was a medical reason for it.”

He grinned and bent over his task again. “Hell, I don’t know. My mom always blew on a scrape or cut when she doctored it. Didn’t your dad?”

Tabitha didn’t answer, and was glad he wasn’t looking at her.

“As for a medical reason,” he continued as if she had, “maybe it dries the iodine faster, so it doesn’t hurt as long.”

“That makes sense,” she murmured.

As he bandaged her hand over her ignored protests, he told her about a scar on his forearm he’d gotten when he was seven. His mother wanted to take him to the emergency room and have it sewed up, but he threw a fit until she doctored it herself. Since it was deep and really should have had stitches, he was left with the scar.

“So at seven, you’d already learned the macho cop attitude,” she said. “Was your father a policeman?”

“Nope. Dad sold shipping supplies.”

“He doesn’t anymore?”

A shadow crossed Jake’s face. “No.”

“Retired?”

He met her eyes squarely. “Permanently.”

“He’s dead?”

Jake nodded as he cut off the end of the bandage.

“What about your mother?”

“She’s dead, too.”

“Oh.” Tabitha watched him roll the rest of the bandage up and put it back in the box. “Then we’re both orphans.”

“Seems so.”

Neither of them said anything as Jake repacked the supplies and put them back in the linen closet where he’d found them. “Think she’ll notice they were moved?”

She stood and stepped toward him, which was also toward the door. “Probably.”

He didn’t turn to go out, however, just stood blocking the way. He lifted her injured hand. “Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled warmly. “Want me to kiss and make it better?”

Another motherly ritual she’d heard of though never experienced. Dutifully she held her bandaged hand higher.

He made no move to take it. “That’s not what I meant.”

She frowned. She’d been looking forward to feeling his lips on her hand. “What did you—”

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

“Oh.” She took a tiny, involuntary breath and shivered again. This time it shook her entire body.

He smiled and locked his gaze onto hers. “I see you remember.”

“Re—” She cleared her throat. “Remember what?”

He slipped a hand around her waist and drew her closer. “This.”

Then his lips touched hers, briefly, softly.

Her breath caught again. Kissing him brought the oddest sensation. There was a tiny shock, as if an electrical connection that had been broken was now complete.

Wanting to feel it again, she initiated the second kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to hers.

When his arms locked into place, tightening around her, Tabitha felt a rush of feminine power, bringing a deep sense of satisfaction that she could wreak the same kind of havoc on his senses that he wreaked on hers.

Jake deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth.

Tabitha groaned, and stood on tiptoe to give him better access.

Jake groaned this time and, placing both hands at her waist, he picked her up and leaned her back against the wall, never breaking the contact of their lips. One of his knees parted hers.

Understanding what he wanted, she tried to pull her legs up so she could wrap them around his waist, but her skirt was too tight.

He must have realized the problem, because he gathered handfuls of silk until his hands touched her bare bottom.

His whole body tightened, and his lips slid off hers. “Damn.”

“What?”

“You’re wearing a thong!”

Who cared about that? All Tabitha wanted was for the fire to resume. She pulled his head down to hers.

With one heave, Jake lifted her up against the wall and settled himself in the crook of her legs.

Feeling the hardness rubbing against a highly sensitized spot, Tabitha bucked against him.

“Oh, God.” His lips slid away from hers again, but only to burn a path down her throat, making her lose her train of thought, her will, her determination to—

What?

There was a reason she shouldn’t be doing this…wasn’t there?

Was there? What reason could she possibly have for not wanting these delicious sensations dancing through her? Was she nuts?

Right this moment she wanted everything, and she wanted it to continue until she melted into the stars.

Jake worked a hand around her butt and slipped it under the back strap of her thong. He slowly worked his hand down, lower, closer to the hot, wet spot where Tabitha wanted to feel the pressure of—

Brrring.

The ringing brought both their heads up.

“What is it?” she asked, still dazed.

“My cell phone,” he concluded, then captured her lips again.

The phone continued to ring.

Tabitha tore her mouth away. “Aren’t you going to answer it?”

“No.” He attacked her neck. “It’s just one of my men reporting in.”

She shoved ineffectually at his broad shoulders. “How do you know?”

He glared at her, but finally eased her down and she let her legs drop.

He grabbed his phone, then showed it to her as she pulled her skirt down. “Exactly as I thought. See the time? They report in every thirty minutes, assuming nothing has happened.”

She pulled down her jacket with a snap. “So answer it.”

Jake hit the talk button.

As he barked into the phone, Tabitha took the opportunity to escape into the other room. Breathing deeply, she heard him ask several curt questions.

Billy had settled down in the carrier, but peeked out at her with killer eyes.

She decided not to touch the carrier.

Jake stepped into the room. “Everything’s fine. It could’ve waited.”

She moved into the kitchen area to find Billy’s food. “But you didn’t know that.”

“Damn, Tabitha, we were—”

“No, Jake.” She turned to face him across the counter.

He glared at her. “But you were—”

“No, Jake.”

Three strides brought him to the other side of the counter. “Why the hell can’t you—”

“You’re a cop.”

His eyes narrowed.

Having said it all, Tabitha picked up the cat food and started for the door. “Bring the cat, will you?”