He watched as Margo continued to pace, and for a minute he considered telling her not to wear out the kitchen floor. But he figured she wouldn’t appreciate his brand of teasing right now. And, frankly, given the situation, he didn’t feel like giving it. He didn’t need to rattle her any more than she already was. Besides, he enjoyed seeing her pace. Definitely appreciated the sway of her hips, as well as the bounce of her breasts. He shouldn’t notice such things at a time like this, but what man wouldn’t? She was a beautiful woman with a great body that he craved more each and every day. But hadn’t he just decided to do away with the personal? Hell, some things couldn’t be helped, and a man’s ingrained ability to desire a woman was one of them. As long as he didn’t act on that desire, he was okay.
Suddenly, she stopped pacing and turned to him. Striker froze when he saw something in her eyes that he hadn’t expected. “Talk to me, Margo. Get it out. Tell me what you’re feeling,” he encouraged, while fighting the urge to go to her and kiss those tears away.
*
STRIKER’S WORDS BROKE through Margo’s anguish and she drew in a deep breath. Maybe getting out what she was feeling wasn’t a bad idea. She could remember all too well the perky blue-eyed blonde, who’d been married less than a year.
Nancy Snyder didn’t mind letting everyone know how much the separation from her husband bothered her. In fact, one of the last things Nancy had said to Margo was “I have a man waiting at home, who I haven’t seen in six weeks, and I can’t wait to get to him.” And now Nancy was gone. Shot down in cold blood.
She stopped pacing to stare down at the floor. And then there was Horace Amos, one of the prosecuting attorneys. She’d seen him in the courtroom, heard him, admired how he and his team had expertly and audaciously proved without a shadow of a doubt just what a heartless, cold-blooded killer Murphy Erickson was. Now Horace Amos was dead. She couldn’t help but wonder who would be next. Her?
“Don’t even think it, Margo.”
Striker’s sharp words made her jump. She saw in his features a startling intuitiveness of what she’d been thinking. How had he known? “How can I not think it, Striker?”
She watched him push his chair back to stand. “Because I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Margo sensed the truth in his words. She wasn’t sure how he would manage it if an assassin was hell-bent on killing her, but a part of her believed he would. Over the past week, she’d had moments where the reality of what was happening had hit her hard, and this was one of those times. And, for whatever reason when one of those moments intruded, caught her off guard, it was always Striker’s presence that would bring calm to her turbulent world...even if he had to go so far as to incite her anger to do so.
He’d also incited her desire for something that was as forbidden as it was yearned for. Okay, she would admit it. And whether he knew it or not, she could read him as well. Kind of. Enough. In the week they’d spent together, she’d tried her best to figure out what made Lamar “Striker” Jennings the person he was. Much still remained a mystery. He was intentionally keeping foggy certain aspects of himself and his life. But what she was seeing clearer with each passing day was that he was fighting the same longings, the same desires that she battled. Margo knew he kept his distance, took great pains never to come close to her. And he definitely went out of his way not to touch her again.
Yet today, while sitting in a parked car and sharing a hamburger, they had talked. Although at times it had seemed more like an interrogation than a conversation, at least they’d communicated. She’d learned a little more about him and he’d certainly gotten to know more about her. Typically she was fairly easy to get along with unless someone tried getting into her business. She was overly protective of her privacy, but more than once she had let her guard down with Striker.
As she watched, he moved around the table with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. For such a tall and built man, he had the ability to move with an ease that could take a woman’s breath away. He had shaved that morning, she was sure of it. Yet she could see the dark stubble covering his entire jaw. Why did such a thing not only make him look dangerously serious as well as dangerously sexy? But nothing detracted from that sensual look, not even the holstered gun strapped to his shoulder.
He stood there watching her, not saying anything. He really didn’t have to. The look in his eyes said it all. He was fighting this pull between them just like she was. For some reason, she felt the need to speak. To address what he’d said. “I know you won’t let anything happen to me, Striker.”
He nodded, as if satisfied by her response. Then he asked her, “Do you know how to shoot a gun?”
She actually got shivers at the question. “Heavens, no. Apollo tried teaching me and I couldn’t even hold one in my hand. The thought that such an object is capable of taking a human life petrified me. If given a gun, I’d probably end up shooting myself. Pepper spray works just fine.”
He shook his head. “Glad you told me that. I won’t ever give you a gun for any reason.”
It wouldn’t bother her in the least if he didn’t. She would leave the burden of protecting her solely on his shoulders, and roaming her eyes over him, she thought, Those shoulders are massive. He was standing there, staring at her, blatantly allowing all that manly heat to penetrate her space. Causing her heart rate to increase, shivers to ripple up her spine and quivers of need to infiltrate her very being.
“Don’t look at me like that, Margo.”
She swallowed. There was no need to ask what he meant. If there was any semblance of lust in her eyes, it was his fault. There was only one response to his deep, husky voice. “I can’t help it, Striker.”
He had taken a step toward her when his phone rang. The shrill sound should have shattered the moment, but it didn’t. Not really. She stood there, as if glued to the spot as he continued to hold her gaze while pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
“What?” he barked into the phone. Then in a mild tone, he said, “Everything is fine here.”
Margo drew in a deep breath. Honestly? Did he think that? How could he when she was about to go up in flames thanks to his deep, penetrating gaze? She figured now was the time to escape into her workroom. To save herself before she was beyond rescuing.
She turned to leave.
“No. Don’t go anywhere, Margo.” She turned back around and saw he’d ended the call. He slowly strode toward her.
When he came to a stop directly in front of her, she swore she could hear the beat of his heart. “I think I should go, Striker,” she said in a voice she was trying to keep calm.
“And I think you should stay,” he countered.
Without saying anything else, he reached out his hand to her. She knew what it meant to let him touch her. Didn’t Striker know what this could lead to? Was that what he really wanted? Did she? Granted, they had kissed before, but to cross this line again could cause problems if things between them went sour. Like her ability to trust him, listen to him or follow his orders when she should.
Considering all of that, she should be the sensible one and walk away, think of the danger surrounding them. She should concentrate on the fact that a killer was still out there and she could be his next intended victim. However, at that moment none of that mattered. The only thing she wanted to think about was a kiss that had ended too quickly, and that they needed to pick up where they’d left off.
Margo did the one thing she knew she shouldn’t do and placed her hand in his.
*
STRIKER FELT IT the moment their hands touched—a yearning so acute it had parts of his body aching. Inwardly he was calling himself all kinds of fool, especially when just moments earlier he had decided to back away from the personal and concentrate on the professional. However, for a reason he couldn’t quite understand, he was tired of backing away, didn’t want to fight the intense attraction, the mind-blowing desire between them. At that moment he refused to consider the consequences or the possible outcome of his actions. If he crossed the line with Margo, if they had sex, how could they go back to just a protector–client relationship? The only thing he knew with certainty was that he wanted to kiss her. And he wanted to do it now.