my wife.”
“Nobody said you did,” Trevor said again.
The man turned his head and looked at him over his shoulder. “Then why are you arresting me?”
“You ran from us after we approached you and then shot a gun at us. Is there anything about that you find questionable?” Jocelyn asked, her sarcasm shining through.
“I knew what you’d think. Everyone always thinks the husband did it.”
“Let’s talk about that at the station.” Jocelyn took him by the arm and guided him back toward the store.
“I want an attorney.”
Trevor followed them back through the store, past several people recovering from fear, stepping back and out of the way. He called in the arrest. A few minutes later, a car arrived in front of the store and two other officers took the gunman away.
Now standing on the sidewalk with a crowd of onlookers, Trevor turned to Jocelyn. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She faced him in genuine question. “Do what again?”
She really didn’t know? “Go after somebody who has a gun.”
“I had a gun.” She held up hers in front of him, barrel up as she flipped on the safety.
“You were almost shot back there.”
With an indignant twirl, she started up the street beneath the watching crowd. Ignoring them, he caught up to her. Obviously she didn’t take criticism well, not about her detective work. He always found that intriguing. There had to be a reason.
“What made you join the FBI, anyway?” He let himself enjoy another look down her body, lingering on the glimpses of her perky breasts moving with each of her steps. “You aren’t the type. I mean, you’re tomboyish enough, but...”
She glanced over and caught him admiring her breasts.
“Stop while you still can, Agent Colton.”
Stop getting personal, she meant. He ignored her comment. “Why not get married and raise kids?”
“I seem like the housewife type to you?”
He looked straight ahead because looking at her while they talked like this would get him in trouble. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
She gave him an indignant look. “You’re talking personal.”
He ignored her again, preferring not to analyze that right now. He was getting personal, going against his rule. But one thing nagged him.
She wouldn’t make a good housewife. She’d make a great wife. A man wouldn’t be able to get enough of her. He’d have lots of kids with her because of that. And that filled him with both fantasies and foreboding. The foreboding had him shoving the thoughts back.
They reached his SUV. Facing her with his hand on the handle, he watched her angle her head with lifted eyebrows. Why was she so touchy about this?
“No wonder you’re still single,” she said.
Had he managed to rile her? “Because I treat women chivalrously?” He opened the door for her and stepped aside.
“No.” She fought back a smile as she got into the SUV.
The almost-smile didn’t throw him off. He watched her profile a few seconds before going around to the other side of the SUV. Something about being treated like a woman bothered her. What could that be? Maybe it wasn’t so much how a man treated her that bothered. Maybe it was him doing the treating.
* * *
“I don’t feel like going home.” Jocelyn looked over at Trevor, dreading her quiet condo. “Let’s go grab something to eat.”
Trevor looked surprised. “It’s three o’clock.” And not in the afternoon.
“We haven’t eaten yet. We got that call at seven.” Dinner hadn’t mattered with the issues of the day, but that wasn’t her reason for wanting to eat out.
“Let’s just grab something and go to your place. It’s closer than mine.”
“My place?” Why her place? Had she not imagined his earlier flirtation? No, surely she had.
“We’ve been working together long enough. Come on. It’s late. I don’t want to be in public. I’m tired. And I probably smell by now.” He lifted his arm for a mock sniff.
For such a serious man, he did show signs of a sense of humor. What harm would it be to let him stay? They’d had a long day and night. Besides, she didn’t want to be alone. His crack about her cat kind of drove home that point. She loved her cat, but the animal only needed her for food and shelter.
Entering her two-story condo felt strange with a man, especially Trevor. Tall, dark-haired and lean, he took on a new persona now that they weren’t working. She saw him the way she repressed herself from seeing him—as a great-looking man with intense, smart dark eyes and thick lashes.
Leaving the entry, she led him into her open living room, aware of how he surveyed her big-screen TV across from a gray sofa with yellow-and-white throw pillows. Varying shades of stacked gray rock with a few yellow for accent made up the wall behind the sofa, and a vase of yellow lilies on the coffee table tied the room together. Top-down, bottom-up window coverings were set halfway up for privacy on a row of three tall square windows.
Her black cat meowed, walking leisurely toward her.
“Sigmund, meet Trevor Colton. Trevor, this is Sigmund.”
Sigmund lifted green eyes to her and then Trevor.
“Sigmund, it’s a pleasure.” He crouched as the animal moved toward him. When he began to pet him, Sigmund let him.
Jocelyn dropped her jaw. “Wow. He doesn’t let just anyone pet him. He likes you.” Sigmund had a keen judge of character. She looked up at Trevor as he straightened, amazed and awed, seeing him even more as a man—an attractive man. That disconcerted her a bit. She didn’t mingle with sexy coworkers who didn’t want to get personal with her.
“I had a dog growing up.”
That announcement appealed to her awe, kept it going. “Of course. Boy.” She covered her mouth, widening her eyes in exaggeration, reminding him of their earlier banter.
He chuckled. “Plato. I named him.”
That sobered her. “You were into Plato as a child?”
“No. I thought his name was cool. You were into Sigmund?”
“No way.” She walked toward the kitchen, remodeled with light gray tile, stainless steel appliances and granite countertops.
“Nice place.”
She smiled as she saw him look over her vaulted ceiling open concept living room and kitchen. “Thanks. I did
