rapist—to face the man who’d nearly killed her—across the short distance of a courtroom. And her mother was worried about matchmaking and society fund-raisers?
Although the tension crept back into her posture, Bailey continued to smile when her mother came to give her a hug. “Please give Cam and his parents my regards, but I won’t be there.”
Loretta’s cutting gaze swept over Spencer as she pulled away. Then she brushed Bailey’s bangs off her forehead and straightened the angel pendant hanging around her neck. “Very well then. I’ll call you tomorrow about the Christmas Ball.”
Bailey nodded. “I’ll talk to you then.”
“Call me if you need an escort to the ball.” Bailey stiffened when Harper leaned in to press a kiss to her temple and Spencer felt a protective urge make him stand straighter. And even though she managed a smile before Pierce followed Loretta and Jackson Mayweather down the hallway, it didn’t last.
“I apologize for my family and...” she thumbed over her shoulder “...my attorney.”
“They’re understandably protective of you.”
“Smothering is more like it.” She unfolded the coat she carried and flipped it around her shoulders. “Happy holidays, Detective. I hope you’re well.”
“What?”
Her mouth relaxed with a soft giggle, probably at catching him off guard with the friendly chitchat. “It’s customary when someone issues you a greeting like that for you say something similar in return.”
“Oh. Right.” When she juggled her keys and purse to shrug into her coat, Spencer decided to test his no-touch theory. He pointed, alerting her to his intent before moving behind her to hold her coat. She paused for a moment before thanking him and sliding her arms into the sleeves. After settling the collar up around her neck, he smoothed his hands across her shoulders and patted her arms. It was Pierce’s touch she hadn’t liked. Or maybe being touched without being asked first. She wasn’t skittish with him standing behind her. She hadn’t frozen up. Maybe she was going to make a calmer, more reliable witness than Chief Taylor thought. “Happy holidays, Bailey.”
What the heck? Spencer popped his grip open and stepped back when he realized he was still holding her shoulders, still breathing in the faint citrusy scent of her hair, still feeling her warmth.
And did she just shiver when he pulled away? Was that a soft gasp he heard? She’d liked his touch. Or, at the very least, she hadn’t minded his hands lingering on her.
There were times when possessing his finely honed eye for detail sucked. Think job, Montgomery. Forget the woman. Forget the attraction.
You know what hell that will lead you to.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, his tone more brusque than he’d intended.
“Are you worried I’m going to screw up all your hard work?” Bailey slipped her purse onto her shoulder, inhaling a deep breath before turning to face him. They stood close enough now that she had to tilt her face up to see his. Good grief, her eyes were blue.
A pair of pretty brown eyes, buried deep within his memory, suddenly surfaced in his mind, blurring his vision. Spencer blinked away the vision before the pain could follow. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks and strolled a few steps toward the main room at the end of the hall, pretending he was still on his game. “Chief Taylor wanted me to run through some safety precautions with you—make sure you’re all ready to go for Monday, or whenever you get called to the stand.”
“So you are worried. You don’t think I’ll go through with this, either, do you?”
The accusation stopped him in his tracks and Spencer turned. “This is an important case, Bailey.”
“It’s important to me, too.” She shoved her keys into her pocket and faced off against him. “Everyone thinks I’m going to freak out on the stand or run away and hide somewhere. But I have to do this. There has to be a reason why this happened to me.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed at the emotion staining her cheeks. If she got worked up arguing with him, how was she going to handle it if Kenna Parker tried to rattle her on the witness stand? “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”
“Yes. But I can handle it.”
He pulled his hand from his pocket and tapped the fingers fisted around the strap of her purse, silently arguing her cool-under-fire argument. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Have you ever bared your fears and soul and worst nightmare in front of the man who made you afraid?”
“No. Of course not, but...”
He let the reality of what they were asking of her set in, and watched her cheeks pale and her gaze drop to the center of his chest. “This is going to get messy before it gets done. Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“You’d think I’d have at least one person cheering me on and bucking up my confidence instead of telling me all the reasons why I can’t or shouldn’t do it.” She tilted her chin up, venting a mixture of temper and frustration. “Since you’ve been so obsessed with catching this guy, I would have thought you’d be in my corner. But you’re as much of a doubting Thomas as anybody else.”
“I’m not the kind of man to give pep talks, Bailey.” As Bailey’s voice grew louder and more animated, Spencer’s hushed, articulating every word as he dipped his head closer to hers. “There’s a lot that can happen between now and when you’re called up to that witness stand. Besides you ‘freaking out’ and deciding not to testify, there’s a possibility Brian Elliott’s accomplice may do something to try to stop you.”
“You’re talking about The Cleaner, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m talking about The Cleaner—and she’s nobody you want to mess with. You need to lock your doors and windows. Don’t go out by yourself at night. Have someone walk you to your car. Hang with people you know and trust. And if something does happen, call me or 911 before it’s too late to do anything about it.”
With every sentence, her eyes widened and her skin cooled to a pale porcelain color. “Too late...?”
“I’m not here to sugarcoat anything. I’m just stating the facts.”
After an endless moment of silence she tore her gaze from his and focused her attention on buttoning her coat. “Don’t worry, detective. No one would ever mistake you for a warm and fuzzy kind of guy.” She tied her orange belt with equal fervor. “Now, was that the lecture you were supposed to give me? Watch my back and don’t be stupid? Or do you have some more doom and gloom you’d like to share? Let’s get it over with because I really do need to get home and hide away in my little ivory tower of naïveté and incompetence.”
“I didn’t call you stupid.”
“No, you’re just intimating that I can’t take care of myself.”
Really? This defiant little show of sarcasm was supposed to convince him to trust her to close his case? Was this an attempt to show her strength? By butting heads with him? And since when did he get in anyone’s face and argue back?
Spencer’s blood was still
