the Middle East. She’d been far too afraid for laughter. He’d hated her fear, and he was damn glad to see her like this...happy.
“And here I was worried you wouldn’t remember me,” she murmured. Her smile flashed, a wide, slow smile that made her deep brown eyes light up. “But I really think you can drop the ‘Ms. Wesley’ part, don’t you?”
Then she made a terrible mistake. She came forward and wrapped her arms around him. Her scent, a light lavender, drifted in the air as she hugged him. He probably shouldn’t have wrapped his arms around her and hugged her so tightly. Probably shouldn’t have inhaled her scent so greedily. But he did.
She fit against him, perfectly so. He’d thought that before, on that long-ago night.
Jennifer eased back and stared up at him. “You haven’t changed. You look exactly the same, even after all this time.”
He’d changed plenty. Most of those changes were on the inside, though, because he was good at keeping his mask in place. Brodie forced himself to let her go, when he wanted to hold on to her tightly.
That part hasn’t changed, either.
After the night they’d shared together, he’d wanted to grab hold of her and never let go. But the mission had waited. Her life had waited.
He eased out a slow breath, and his gaze swept slowly over her face. Her eyes were big, dark, almond-shaped and framed by the longest lashes he’d ever seen. Her hair was a black curtain around her, and her skin was a warm, sun-kissed gold.
Her face was all high cheekbones and lush lips. Her forehead was high, and her chin was a little pointed, hinting at her stubborn nature.
He’d learned a lot about her in twenty-four hours, and he’d sure never been able to forget her. Six years... That was one hell of a long time for a woman’s memory to haunt him. “You still look beautiful,” he told her softly.
Her smile flashed again. “Still charming, huh?”
There was no accent to her voice, nothing to give away her roots, but he knew she’d been raised in the South. That bit had been in the dossier he’d been given on her.
He studied her a moment longer, cocking his head. “Why are you here, Jennifer?” He liked the way her name rolled off his tongue.
“I was looking for you.”
His brows rose. You found me.
She wet her lips and threw a quick, almost nervous glance back at his closed office door. Then she focused on him once more. “I need your help.”
Right. Because she hadn’t searched for him out of any great, unrequited love.
One night. That’s all it had been, for them both.
Besides, most people came to McGuire Securities because they needed help—help getting justice. Help with problems that the police hadn’t been able to solve.
He sat on the edge of his desk and motioned to the chair in front of him. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what’s going on?”
Instead of sitting, Jennifer started to pace.
He almost smiled.
“I need protection.”
The urge to smile vanished. “From what?”
“Not what—a person.” She stopped pacing. Swallowed. “Someone is stalking me. I need you to make sure that this person doesn’t get close to me, not again.”
Brodie sure as hell didn’t like the sound of this situation. “Again?” he prompted. Meaning this person had already gotten to her before?
Jennifer gave a quick nod. For an instant, her expression wavered, and he saw the fear in her eyes. So it’s not gone, after all. “Three months ago, a man—he attacked me in a New Orleans alley. He stabbed me.” Her hand slipped to her right side. Lingered. “I was able to get away from him then.”
As soon as she’d said the word attacked, Brodie had leaped off his desk.
Her breath sighed out. “But ever since that night, I’ve had the feeling that someone is watching me. Following me. And last week...my home in the French Quarter was torched.”
“You need the cops,” he said immediately, the words sharp. “This guy should be in jail.”
“He would be, if the cops could find him.” Jennifer shook her head and sent her dark hair sliding over her shoulders. “But they can’t, and I’m afraid that he’ll come for me again.” Her fingers slid away from her side. “I’m scared.” Her words shook.
He’d clenched his back teeth. With an effort, he managed to grit out, “Your father—”
“Didn’t you hear?” She glanced away from him to stare out the window at the city of Austin, Texas. “He died two years ago. A yachting accident.”
Hell. “I’m so sorry.” He’d lost his own parents in the years since he’d last seen Jennifer. Only their deaths hadn’t been an accident—his parents had been murdered.
Their murder was the whole reason that he and his brothers had opened McGuire Securities. The cops hadn’t been able to find the killers, but— We will. He and his brothers had a new lead on the cold case, and they were finally getting close to delivering justice to the men who’d ripped apart their family.
“My father’s company was nearing bankruptcy at the time of his death,” Jennifer said as she lifted her chin. “But I promise I have money to pay you. I just...I need your help. You’re the only person I can turn to now.”
Louisiana’s French Quarter and Austin weren’t exactly close on the map. “You drove all the way here, just to talk with me?”
Her lashes flickered a bit. “You saved my life before. I was hoping that you could do it again.”
He wanted to pull her into his arms. Because he wanted that so badly, Brodie didn’t move. “If you need my help, of course I’ll take your case.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Thank you.” Her relief was palpable.
Now he frowned at her. “Did you think I’d turn you away?”
“Three other private investigators have. I went to them right after the fire, but...they said there was nothing to link the two attacks. That it’s just random. Really random, terrible luck.” She eased closer to him. “But it’s not. I know when I’m being hunted.”
Brodie nodded. “I’m sure you do.” She wasn’t the first client he’d seen who’d been turned away by other PIs in the business. Her fear was real, and he’d spend some time investigating to find out just what was happening in her life.
“Thank you.”
Those words were too familiar. He’d never wanted her gratitude. On that hot, desperate night, he’d only wanted her. He should have known better than to touch her.
Desire
