Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe. Cassie Miles

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actually seen anyone,” she piped up. “Agent Burke, you’re not going to break my front door down, are you?”

      “I’d rather not.”

      “The back is unlocked.”

      He gave a brisk nod. “We’ll enter through the back. You both stay here and keep an eye on the front. Does that sound all right to you, Jesse?”

      “It does.”

      He appreciated the way Burke had consulted him before taking action. Jesse wanted to think he was still capable. Like all marines, he was a sharpshooter. Even with blurred vision, he trusted his aim. “Stay behind me, Fiona. If I need to open fire, you should run to the back of the house.”

      “I’ve never done anything like this,” she whispered.

      “You shouldn’t have to. You’re a mom.”

      “That’s exactly why I should know how to protect myself and my daughter.”

      From the rear of the house, he heard Burke making his entrance. Jesse’s muscles tensed. He raised his handgun and stood ready to shoot.

      No one came out.

      After a long couple of moments, he heard Wentworth call to him, “All clear, Jesse. There’s nobody in the house.”

      Staying focused had been a strain. His gun hand dropped to his side. He sagged against the wall. As soon as his eyes closed, darkness welled up around him. Sweet and silent. For three days, he had rested in the embrace of darkness, peaceful as a tomb.

      He felt a hand against his cheek. Her touch was cool, soothing. He blinked and focused on her wide gray eyes.

      “Jesse? Are you all right?”

      “Fine,” he mumbled.

      As she studied him, her face filled with concern. Though her lips didn’t move, he heard an echo of her soft voice inside his head. Starting over isn’t so bad.

      After his failure to protect Nicole, he wouldn’t mind having a fresh start. A new direction for his life.

      He’d been looking for a sign, a reason he had come back from death. And he sensed that Fiona might hold the answer to his deepest questions. She might provide him with a reason to go on living.

       Chapter Four

      Standing in her front room, Fiona wasn’t sure whether she should be scared or embarrassed that she’d reported an intruder who didn’t exist.

      She couldn’t turn to Jesse for guidance; he’d disappeared into the kitchen, moving slowly. When they were outside and he leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, she’d thought he was going to keel over, which wasn’t surprising considering his injuries. Carolyn had told her that he was unconscious for three days. Jesse was still weak and ought to be in bed. Not that he’d ever admit it. Typical man! When men got sick, they either put on a macho attitude or curled up in bed and whined like babies.

      Agent Burke was giving the orders. “Everybody out,” he said. “We need to spread out and search.”

      It went against her instincts as a hostess to have these men troop through her house without offering hospitality. “I should make coffee.”

      “Later,” Burke said.

      Turning away from her, he spoke to the man who had been in the car with Jesse. Wentworth? Burke rattled off instructions about how the outbuildings should be searched and reminded him that they should proceed with caution.

      Fiona could see why Carolyn had fallen for this big, rugged FBI agent. Not only was Burke a fine-looking man, but he seemed strong-willed enough to stand up to Carolyn’s dynamic personality. These two would strike sparks off each other for sure.

      While the searchers dispersed, she asked, “Is there something you’d like me to do, Agent Burke?”

      “I’ll get the sheriff over here to dust for prints, but I doubt we’ll find anything. You keep a tidy house, Fiona.”

      “Except for the enclosed porch off the kitchen. I’m using that as my pottery studio.”

      “Let’s take a look around and see if anything’s missing.”

      Dutifully, she scanned the living-room furniture and the shelves near the door where she stored some of her finished pottery. The TV was still there. And the computer. Nothing seemed out of place.

      Burke followed her down the hall to her bedroom where she checked the contents of her jewelry box that rested on the knotty pine dresser. “Nothing appears to be missing, but the door to my walk-in closet is open. I didn’t leave it that way.”

      “It might have been opened when we searched,” he said. “Take a look inside.”

      Against the back wall was a neat row of dressy clothing, still in plastic dry cleaner’s bags. Matching shoes were stored in their original boxes. She never wore those clothes anymore. They were part of her old life.

      Jesse joined them. Though still pale, he seemed to have regained some of his strength. “I’ll take over in here,” he said to Burke. “You might want to keep an eye on the search.”

      “Thanks. Except for your man Wentworth, these guys aren’t trained in forensics. They wouldn’t know a clue if it jumped up and bit them on the ass.” He gave Fiona a wave. “I’ll be back.”

      Jesse came toward her. In spite of his slight limp and the black sling on his left arm, he moved with confidence.

      “You seem better,” she said.

      “I’m getting a handle on these pain pills. Just a little foggy around the edges.” He peeked around her into the closet. “Tidy.”

      “I haven’t touched most of those things since I unpacked.” She looked up into his eyes. His pupils were so dilated from the medication that she could barely see the dark cognac brown of his irises. “Maybe you should rest.”

      “When I need a nap, I’ll let you know.” He flashed that killer grin. “In the meantime, I’m your protector.”

      In spite of his light tone, she took him seriously. Her instincts told her this was a man she could trust with her life. In a way, she already had. Within moments of meeting Jesse, she’d told him the secret behind her move to the mountains. None of her friends in Denver knew how much she’d lost. Fiona’s story was that she and Abby were going to live at the cabin and seek a more peaceful life. Peaceful? Not today!

      She cleared her throat and said, “Burke told me to look for signs that someone had been in my house.”

      “Keep at it.”

      She closed her closet door and led him into Abby’s room, which was more cluttered than the rest of the house but didn’t seem to have been ransacked.

      “I can’t imagine why anybody would want to rob me,” she said. “I don’t keep

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