Feeling a warm gaze on his back, Jake glanced over his shoulder.

Tabitha stood in the door from the kitchen to the hall, watching him. Sure enough, she’d put on blue jeans and a huge navy-blue T-shirt with Rice University splayed across the front in big white letters.

“You went to Rice?” He already knew, of course, from reading her file. He just wanted to see how much she would tell him.

He went back to shucking corn.

She came farther into the room. “I had a full academic scholarship for undergrad, and though some say you should go to a different school for your M.B.A., their graduate assistant offer was too good to pass up.”

“Rice is a top-notch school. I’m impressed.”

“You should be.”

He grinned at her arrogance and glanced over as she leaned back against the counter, just a few feet down from him. “It’s in Houston.”

“Yes, it is.”

“We might’ve seen each other, and never known.”

She looked down at the sink where a bowl of washed, snapped and stringed pole beans waited in the left side. “That was a long time ago.”

“Yep.”

“Do police officers go to college?”

“Some do.”

“The ones with ambition.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you go to school?”

He grinned at her correct assumption and held up his left hand with only the pinky and forefinger sticking up. “Hook ’em Horns.”

“University of Texas.”

He nodded. “Best criminal justice school in the state.”

“Did you always want to be a cop?”

“Not always.” His smile faded, and he concentrated on picking silk from the ear of corn. His reasons for choosing law enforcement were personal…and painful. “The cat’s gone.”

She didn’t blink at the change of subject, just shook her head and glanced at the empty carrier. “He’s just hiding. Poor thing is scared to death. He doesn’t know what’s happened, doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know who we are. Under those circumstances, I’d probably hide, too.”

Jake relaxed back into a smile and placed the first ear of corn in the closest bowl of the double sink. “I doubt it.”

She crossed her hands over her stomach, which stretched Rice over her chest. “Why would you say that?”

She’d changed bras, too, he noticed. To a sports bra, by the way it flattened the lovely breasts he’d been itching to wrap his hands around. Not that they were flat, even now. If she thought downplaying her assets would make a difference, she didn’t realize how much he wanted to—

“Why did you say that?” she repeated.

He shook off the image. He certainly didn’t need to go there, although he damn sure wanted to. In order to make her back away, he said something sure to get her dander up. “Because you’re a control freak. It’s a damn good thing Hines didn’t kidnap you. You’d have tried something by now to get yourself out of it and more than likely have a hole right between your beautiful bluebonnet eyes.”

But her ire didn’t rise. Instead, she frowned and picked up the two cat bowls. Taking them to the sink, she lifted the beans out and set the bowls in. Then she reached across him for a paper towel, and her shoulder brushed his arm.

She hesitated for an instant, just long enough for him to know she felt the same tiny shock of desire that he did, just long enough for him to catch a lungful of the warm, all-woman scent that blended with the sharp freshness of the vegetables.

“Sorry,” she murmured, drawing back.

To keep his hands from reaching for her, he picked up the other ear of corn. “Not going to argue with me?”

“About being a control freak? If you don’t control things in your life, they can end up controlling you.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You’re one, too, you know.”

He wanted to pursue her intriguing comment, but knew this wasn’t the time. They were both too tired and hungry. He pulled off half the husk with one hard yank. “I guess we’re two peas in a pod.”

She filled one bowl with water, then picked both of them up. “We’re having beans tonight, not peas.”

He continued shucking. “Beans have peas, sort of. I don’t know what they’re called, but they’re in a pod like a pea.”

She filled the other bowl with cat food. “They’re seeds.”

“Two seeds in a pod, then. Is that better, Miss Botany?”

She set both bowls on the floor in the far corner of the kitchen. “There are usually more than two seeds in a pod.”

Shaking his head, he chuckled. “That’s another form of control, you know.”

“What?”

“Your insistence on accuracy. Egregious attention to detail.”

She lifted a blond eyebrow. “Egregious?”

He grinned. “Longhorns can use just as many ten-dollar words as Rice farmers.”

“Rice Owls. And I don’t use ten-dollar words…do I?”

He glanced up from the ear of corn. “And I quote, ‘The Mission Creek population has a higher SES than the city where you live. It is also a much safer place to live because we have one of the most efficacious and proficient police departments in the United States.”’

“Well, that reporter deserved it, questioning our experience and ability to handle the situation, just because we’re a small town in South Texas.” She grinned. “Think he knows what SES stands for?”

“Probably not.” Jake set the second ear next to the first. “And, is it even true? Does Mission Creek have a higher socioeconomic status than wherever that guy was from?”

“Atlanta. And yes, Mission Creek has a higher SES than most major cities, thanks to the old cattle families like the Carsons and the Wainwrights. They valued education from the beginning, and that’s what leads to a high socioeconomic status.”

“How’d you find that out?”

“I work closely with Crystal Bennett on hospital fund-raising. In that line of work, this kind of information is extremely important.”

“I guess it explains all those ten-dollar words.”

“Those weren’t ten-dollar words. Six or seven dollars, tops.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have done it, I know. I was trying to keep everything plain and simple, so Branson Hines would understand what I said. But when that reporter sneered his question about how a two-hundred-bed hospital and tiny police force in—how did he put it?—‘the south end of nowhere’ could guarantee the safety of either patients or citizens, I couldn’t help it. I was tired…and tired of stupid questions. There are no guarantees in this life, and he needed to get over it. So I helped him.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. You can defend me any day.”

“I wasn’t—” That quickly, her animation changed to a deep, thoughtful frown, and she turned toward the refrigerator. “Did you get the chicken out?”

“Not yet. Do you have a vegetable brush?”

She stopped cold with the refrigerator open, peeking around the door as if she saw a real longhorn in her kitchen.

“What?” he asked.

“You know what a vegetable brush is?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you’re a man.” Then she added with distaste, “And a cop.”

“Male cops aren’t allowed to clean vegetables?”

“I’ve just never known one who…” She frowned as she trailed off.

“Okay, I’ll prove it. A vegetable brush is about yay big.” He formed his thumbs and forefingers in an O. “It’s round with stiff bristles and—”

“It’s in the drawer to the left of the sink.” She returned her attention to the refrigerator. “Be careful, though. The sharp knives are in there, too.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Jake found the brush and turned on the cold water as she brought a package of boneless chicken breasts over and began to clean them in the other side of the sink.

Though she wasn’t close enough to touch, he could feel the heat of her body as he briskly brushed the corn free of remaining silk.

Her proximity and, again, her scent imbued him with as much a sense of comfort as of stimulation. In fact, the comfort was stimulating in its own comforting way. Somehow, being here with her—cooking with her, teasing her, pulling information from her—felt cozy, felt good, felt…right.

The realization was so disturbing Jake was glad for the excuse to move away from her when he had to find pots for the vegetables. Although, as he did, he also felt a sense of loss.

“Damn, White,” he murmured into the cabinet, “get ahold of yourself.”

“What was that?”

He rattled a stack of saucepans. “Do you want to break the ears in half or cook them in the big pot?”

“It doesn’t matter. Breaking them would be easier, I guess. I’ll probably only eat half of one, anyway.”

Though Jake was determined to make her eat a good meal, he wasn’t going to argue with her now. He needed to get out of the house, away from all the yin energy seducing him. He needed to talk with his men—with fellow police officers—so he could remember who he was and what the hell he was doing there.

He pulled out the two biggest saucepans and set them on the counter.

He broke the ears of corn with one snap each and ran enough water to cover them. Then he poured the beans into the other pan and covered them.

“I’ll let you season them.” Two strides took him to the back door. “I need to see what’s going on outside.”

“Okay.”

He refused to let her quizzical tone stop him. Without glancing at her again, he opened the door and stepped into the fresh evening air.

It smelled like freedom.

 

Jake’s watch said it was nearly eleven o’clock when he pushed his chair back from the table. It had taken them over an hour to eat because of several interruptions by his men. One time there was a question about who would be in charge at the next shift change. The next time was by the man Jake had commissioned to bring him clean clothes.

Leaning back, he patted his stomach. “That was delicious.”

Tabitha was flattered in spite of her determination not to be. She eyed his clean plate. “Thank you.”

“I don’t get home cooking this good too often. I have to enjoy it when I do.”

“You’re so at home in the kitchen, I thought you’d have gourmet meals every night.”

“I’m not that good.” He took another swallow of iced tea. “Besides, it’s too much trouble for one person. And then you’re left with all that food. You either eat the same thing every night for a week or have to worry about freezing part of it.”

Tabitha pointed at the empty serving platter. “Not the way you eat.”

He shrugged. “I usually grab something on the way home.”

“That gets old.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Tired?”

“It’s been a long day.”

She stood and began stacking the dishes.

He immediately stood and pushed her hands out of the way. “I’ll clean up, since you cooked.”

Tabitha blinked. Cooking was one thing. A person had to eat, after all, and some people didn’t like takeout. But cleaning up after a meal was another thing entirely. Totally outside the realm of most males’ experience.

She picked up the serving dishes and followed.

He stopped in the doorway between the small dining room and kitchen. “What are you doing? I said I’m cleaning up.”

She stood her ground. “You helped cook. I’ll help clean.”

He rolled his eyes and stepped into the kitchen. “You’re afraid I won’t do it right.”

“Maybe. But I’ve never known, never even heard tell of a man willing to clean up the kitchen.” She set the serving dishes on the counter beside the plates he’d just put down. “I have to see it for myself.”

“Suit yourself.”

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen sparkled.

“You’re drooping,” he said. “Go on to bed. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day, too, I’m afraid.”

Tabitha glanced toward the hall. This was the part she’d avoided thinking about. “You’re staying here. Isn’t that what you said?”

He nodded. “Like it or not, I need to be with you, twenty-four/seven, until this is over with.”

“Protection?”

“Protector. Advisor…” His voice dropped a perceptible notch. “Anything you need me to be.”

“I only have one bed,” she said quickly.

He smiled. “Yeah, I noticed that right off.”

Her chin lifted. “So you get the couch.”

He shrugged. “I’ve slept on worse.”

She told herself she was not disappointed that he wasn’t insisting on sleeping with her. “You probably won’t sleep much with it like it is. There are too many dragons.” She started toward the door leading to the living room. “I’ll move the ones right around the—”

He caught her arm. “The dragons don’t scare me.”

“I didn’t think they would scare you. Dragons create very powerful chi, which can be quite disrupting to…” She trailed off because the amused look on his face said she was wasting her breath. “Fine. But don’t blame me if you have circles under your eyes in the morning.”

“Kitten…” His face softened, and his voice was husky as he traced the line of her jaw. “If I can’t sleep, it’s not going to be because of any dragons.”

“Oh.” She dragged her eyes away and stepped back from the touch that made her feel good and uncomfortable at the same time. “Well, then, I’ll…” She cleared her throat. “I’ll get you a pillow and some sheets.”

“That’d be great. Thanks.”

She turned toward the linen closet. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to check on my men again. They should be changing shifts in half an hour, and I’ll need to give instructions to the next batch, so don’t wait up.”

She stopped in the doorway to the hall and glanced back at him.

He watched her with an intensity that sent a thrill shimmering across her skin.

“Don’t worry,” she said a little stronger than necessary, to hide her reaction. “I won’t.”

 

The house was quiet when Jake entered over an hour later. The only light on was a lamp in the living room, which illuminated a couch transformed into a cozy bed with sheets, a blanket and a pillow. There wasn’t a single dragon left in the room.

Smiling, he slipped into the bathroom, where he found a still-in-the-box toothbrush with a note. “This is an extra. It’s yours while you’re here.”

He stared at her simple, no-nonsense handwriting, trying to stamp out the glow forming around his heart. How long had it been since someone had cared so much for his comfort? Since someone had thought whether or not he had what he needed?

He hadn’t even realized he’d missed it…until now.

Cursing, he ripped the toothbrush from its box. But he couldn’t fault Tabitha. She was merely seeing to the comfort of a guest.

It was his own stupid sentimentality. She reminded him of a life he’d lost very suddenly when both his parents had been ripped away just a few weeks before he graduated from high school. She reminded him of…

His mother.

Jake froze with the toothbrush ground onto his molars. Memories he’d repressed for the past eighteen years surfaced like air bubbles, popping gently into his mind.

The way his mother had tucked him in every night. The hot meals she always had on the table. Chicken marsala was one of her specialties. Her unfailing humor and patience. Her cat.

He had allowed himself to remember the way his parents had died. It was the reason he became a police officer and the fuel that powered his career.

But he hadn’t allowed himself to remember the life he’d lived before that day. He’d remembered his adoring parents, but he refused to remember details.

Like the way his father had helped him with his homework. The way his parents had attended every football game, applauded every academic achievement, grounded him the time he’d come home drunk.

About to choke, Jake yanked the toothbrush from his mouth and spit. Then he glared at the red plastic brush. It wasn’t even sharp. How could such a simple inanimate object pierce his armor so all those memories could come flooding back?

But he knew it wasn’t the brush. It was the woman who’d given it to him.

He turned on the cold water full blast and rinsed the brush, then his mouth. Switching off the light, he strode back into his temporary bedroom, stripped down to his shorts, placed his pants where he could slip into them easily, then turned out the light.

He slid between the sheets and cursed. They smelled like Tabitha.

Settling back against the pillow, he crossed his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

Tabitha slept just a few feet away, her bed butted against the wall he could reach out and touch. But he didn’t touch it, didn’t even look at it.

He was a cop. He worked long, grueling hours. He’d trained himself over the years to catch a few winks wherever, whenever he could. He could do it tonight. All he had to do was control his thoughts, control his—

Damn. Even his control methods reminded him of Tabitha.

And he’d thought the day had been long. It was nothing compared to the night that stretched torturously ahead of him.

 

A sudden bounce on the mattress shocked Tabitha out of her light doze. With a sharp cry, she bolted upright in bed.

“Meow.”

“Billy.” She relaxed in relief. “Jeez. You could give a person some warning before scaring them half to death.”

Billy nonchalantly performed a whole-body stretch on the unused side of Tabitha’s double bed.

She reached out to pet him from head to tail. He arched into her stroke, then rolled over onto his back.

She tentatively scratched his tummy. When he began purring instead of biting her, she scratched for real.

A slight creak of the hardwood floor in the hall froze her fingers on his fur. Seconds later, the barrel of a gun poked out of the darkness.

“What is it?” Jake demanded in a loud whisper.

“It’s the cat.” Tabitha relaxed for the second time. “He finally decided to come out of hiding.”

The gun disappeared on a relieved curse, then was replaced by a lean, naked torso as Jake stepped into the room.

Tabitha’s heart began racing again for an entirely different reason.

Moonlight filtering through the slats in her wooden blinds glinted off his well-muscled chest, covered by just enough hair to make her fingers ache to brush through it. He’d obviously stopped to pull on his pants but hadn’t taken the time to zip them, leaving an obvious vee where a belt buckle should be.

“The damn cat,” he repeated for his sleep-fogged mind. He ran a hand back through his dark hair, making the muscles ripple across his chest.

Tabitha watched, enchanted by this god of the night, as he padded to the other side of the bed, the side closest to the door. He reached out to pet Billy, who’d rolled back over so he could eye the newcomer.

“Meow.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the cat god when I accidentally shoot you.” Jake sat down hard on the bed and looked at her. “Were you asleep?”

She shrugged. “Sort of.”

He leaned forward and placed his gun on the bedside table. “Yeah, me, too.”

“It’s hard to sleep when you’re worried.” And thinking about the man sleeping in the next room.

“I know.” His teeth flashed in the darkness. “Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

She smiled. “Can you sing?”

“You’d fall asleep just to get away from the sound of my voice.”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad.”

Their hands touched when they reached to pet Billy at the same time. Jake’s stroked hers, as if her hand was Billy.

Tabitha’s breath caught at the shocking warmth of his hand.

Did he mean to? Or was he too sleepy to notice it was skin beneath his fingers, not fur?

Her questions were answered when he caught her hand.

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what?” Her voice was breathless, low.

He groaned. “Don’t react to me like that. It makes me want to…”

She slipped her hand from his, though she didn’t want to. “I know.”

He stood abruptly and faced her, both hands dug into his hair. “We can do this. We’re both professionals.”

She nodded. “Yes, we are. We can. You’re right.”

He let his hands drop. They stared at each other through the darkness.

Tabitha put her hand on Billy’s fur and stroked, though her attention was on Jake.

“I should go back to bed.”

When he made no move to leave, she said, “Probably.”

“Do you want me to?”

She swallowed hard. No, she didn’t want him to leave her. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her they’d get through this, to make her believe everything was going to be okay.

“Tell me to go.” Though his words pleaded, his voice clearly said he didn’t want to.

“I…” She dropped her gaze to Billy, who’d turned onto his back again. “Tell me about cases like this you’ve worked on before.”

He stood very still for a long moment, then with a defeated sigh he sat down on the bed. “There were a couple of cases that were similar. At least, ones where we were dealing with corporate situations, instead of families.”

Tabitha leaned back against her pillow. “Did you get the victims back unharmed?”

“In one of the cases.” He fluffed the pillow on his side and followed suit.

The mattress shifted with his movements, which Tabitha somehow found comforting.

“It was a shipping company where a Venezuelan national demanded to be taken back to his country.”

“On a boat?”

“A ship, yes.”

“What happened?”

“We sweated him out. Turned off the air to the deck he’d commandeered with five of the ship’s employees. It gets real hot in Houston when you’re packed into a sardine can. The kidnapper was the second one to pass out. His victims tied him up and walked out.”

“But you knew where he was.”

Jake joined her as she stroked the cat. “Yes.”

“That helps.”

“That helps a lot.”

“What about the other one?”

“The other was a computer company. Software developer. One of the programmers snapped. Demanded a space shuttle be placed in the parking lot so he could take it to Mars.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. When a shuttle hadn’t appeared by the designated time, he killed his boss, who was the only person he’d kidnapped, then himself.”

“So he was crazy.”

“The other employees said he’d always been a little weird.”

Uncomfortable against the headboard, Tabitha slipped down a little, until Billy rested in the crook of her arm. “Do you think Branson Hines is crazy?”

Jake hesitated. “He has to be somewhat out of touch with reality if he thinks you can just hand him someone else’s baby.”

“Deena’s young enough. If they want a child so badly, I don’t know why they don’t just try again.” She could feel the hair on Jake’s forearm flutter across her skin as he petted the cat.

“From what I read, she all but killed the baby they were going to have, with her vices. Drugs, smoking, alcohol.”

“It certainly complicated things. Probably brought on her premature labor.”

“Hines claims his baby would’ve been saved with all the brand-new equipment in the maternity wing you just opened. Is that true?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Tabitha yawned and slipped farther down on the bed. “We’ll never know. Of course, there’s no convincing him of that.”

“No.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Billy’s purring seemed more like roaring.

“He’s a loud little son of a gun, isn’t he?” Jake said.

“Mmm. And look at the way he’s lying. Like a baby.”

“Will he stay that way if I pick him up?”

“I don’t know.”

Jake placed his hands under Billy’s back and gently picked him up.

Billy stayed contentedly on his back and kept on purring.

Tabitha chuckled and stroked his tail. “Silly thing.”

“We should search the pound for a cat like this.” Jake rocked Billy back and forth in his arms. “Maybe we could fool Hines.”

Tabitha slipped all the way down to her pillow. She turned onto her side, facing Jake, and crooked her arm under her head. “I think the fur would be a dead giveaway.”

Jake grinned. “I don’t know. From all the reports I’ve read, Hines sees what he wants to see.”

He gently placed Billy alongside Tabitha. His hand brushed her stomach as he drew it away. He either didn’t hear her sharp intake of breath, or chose to ignore it as he settled on his side facing her.

They studied each other’s pale faces in the dim light. Desire thickened the air.

“Jake…”

“Shh, beautiful kitten.” He reached across Billy, who purred between them. “Go to sleep. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tabitha smiled and let her eyes flutter closed. “Jake?”

“Yes?”

“Do I really have bluebonnet eyes?”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “Yes, little kitten, you do.”

With a sigh, she drifted into sleep. His promise to keep her safe followed her into her dreams.