cracked the windows to let in some fresh air. They were fifteen floors up with an unobstructed view of Lake Michigan. The sight of sailboats gliding on the blue water made her smile. She wished she were out there, where the only thing she had to worry about was the wind and the rigging.
“This view is the reason I picked this building,” she explained. “I’m a little farther from the hospital than I’d prefer, but being this close to the lake and having this view makes the trek worth it.”
“Fantastic view, but a security nightmare,” Kyle commented as he moved to stand directly in front of her. He propelled her back several feet.
She cocked her head. “How can you say that? No building lines up directly with this one.”
“A sniper doesn’t need a direct angle.” He rocked back on the heels of the loafers he’d changed into earlier. “I could make the shot from the roof of the structure to the right, no sweat.”
She peered over his shoulder to the rooftop of the closest apartment building. Chills swept over her despite the humidity. Great. Now she had to worry about snipers, too.
He drew the drapes closed, shrouding them in a false sense of intimacy.
“I’m starved.” Kyle flashed a breath-stealing grin.
She didn’t know if she’d get used to that. He’d been a constant distraction all day. She’d had to force herself not to glance at him during her surgeries for fear she’d make a mistake and slice where she shouldn’t.
She normally didn’t have a problem concentrating while performing an operation. In fact her single-minded focus set her apart from other doctors who liked to talk or listen to music during a procedure. Not her. She needed the room quiet so the patient had her complete attention.
But today...though Kyle had remained quiet and out of the way near the door as promised, he might as well have been wearing a neon flashing light. The man disturbed her on so many levels.
“We can order in or there’s a good Thai place around the corner,” she said, glad for the neutral subject.
“Thai sounds good. Plus, we can talk about how this is going to work. Set some ground rules.”
“Rules?”
His grin widened. “Yep.”
Her stomach clenched.
Needing some space, she said, “I’ll change and we can go eat.” And talk about the rules. Oh, joy.
She retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom and closed the door, grateful for the momentary respite from his overwhelming presence. There was something about him, his energy and charisma, that made the air around him vibrate. It was exhausting. And thrilling.
She quickly changed out of her hospital attire and into casual clothes. She hesitated before stepping out of her room. How was she going to survive the next few days with that hunk of a man in the other room dogging her every step? Physical distance from him wasn’t possible. He was here to protect her, and that meant sticking close. But she could keep an emotional distance. She was good at that.
* * *
Kyle studied the professional portrait hanging over the gas fireplace in Brenda’s living room. The image captured a very stern-looking man—who Kyle guessed was Brenda’s father—a perfectly coiffed dark-haired woman—presumably Mrs. Storm—and Brenda as a young woman. Probably late teens, Kyle decided.
Her raven hair was gathered to one side by a thin ribbon, her face fuller, her smile uncomfortable, as if she’d posed for far too long and wanted to escape. Brenda resembled both parents in various ways. She had her mother’s brunette hair, her father’s slim nose. The shape of her eyes was more her father’s, while the color was a tad darker than her mother’s.
He wondered what it had been like growing up with two parents. Two parents who cared.
He shook his head to dispel that mistruth. His mother had cared before she’d died. His father...not so much.
Thoughts of his past had no place in this assignment. He turned from the portrait and moved to look at more framed photos gracing the cream-colored wall leading to the hallway. Each photo was posed, with perfect lighting and perfect expressions. Not one candid shot among the lot.
In fact, he couldn’t remember seeing anything in the apartment during his security check that wasn’t perfectly arranged, perfectly ordered.
Very little to suggest someone actually lived here.
His gaze made a slow sweep over the condo. Except for her purse sitting on the little stand by the door, there was nothing personal in view. The place reminded him of a hotel suite.
Something was off here. From all accounts, Dr. Brenda Storm was a highly skilled surgeon sought after by the best hospitals in the world. She was paid well for her work and had prestige most would envy. Yet, she lived like a guest in her own home.
A door down the hall opened and Brenda emerged from her bedroom. She’d changed from the austere black outfit, which she’d put back on after discarding her operating scrubs, to a fitted navy skirt that showed off her curves admirably and white sleeveless blouse that made her look delicate. Her idea of casual?
A knock sounded on the door.
Kyle stilled, his senses at attention. “Expecting someone?”
Brenda shook her head, her eyes growing round. “No.”
Kyle motioned her back toward the kitchen. He approached the door from the side and peered through the peephole. An array of pink and purple flowers blocked the view. Whoever was on the other side of the door was holding a bouquet of flowers in front of his or her face.
“Know of anyone who would send you flowers?” he asked.
“No one.”
Kyle withdrew his gun.
Time to meet this threat head-on.
TWO
Kyle pressed his back against the inside wall next to Brenda’s front door. Nerves stretched tight, he regulated his breathing. Brenda’s life was at stake here. He needed to keep control of the situation. “What do you want?”
“Floral delivery,” came the muffled reply. “For Dr. Brenda Storm. Is she here?”
Wariness narrowed Kyle’s focus. She didn’t need to be home for the flowers to be delivered. He could have left them at the front desk. How had the guy slipped past the doorman?
Brenda moved forward. “Who—”
Kyle lifted a finger to keep her quiet. He waved her back again. She nodded and stepped closer to the kitchen archway. “She’s not available. Take them back.”
“I can’t. I’ve got a schedule to keep. My boss will have my head if I return to the shop without delivering them. Guy paid to have them delivered pronto.”
“Guy?” Kyle wasn’t sure he bought the story. “You have the
