mention of her best friend from childhood was intended to distract her, and it worked to a point. She grinned. “You know, I’m not bad, myself. Megan’s been working with me on my aim. But neither Gerard, Megan nor I are paid to place ourselves in harm’s way. You are.”
His light green eyes seemed to dance with humor, though she suspected it was a little forced. He leaned a couple of inches into her personal space. “Why, Lynley Marshall, I do believe you’re actually worried about my safety.”
She couldn’t help it, the man’s voice, his scent, even his body language made her want him closer. And that made her uncomfortable, and she felt it settle into her expression.
He backed off, and she couldn’t miss a twitch of his lips, a creasing beside his eyes, as if he could read her and was suppressing yet another teasing retort. Why did he confuse her so?
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. “I’m being a typical man. We like to beat our chests and rumble like apes, but some of us truly appreciate the caring tenderness of a woman concerned for our safety.”
To her surprise, it seemed that his eyes said, “Especially this woman.” But of course, she’d been intentionally alone for so long she wasn’t in the habit of reading a man’s mind.
Did he realize how fear completely controlled her? She feared for the friendship that had begun between them so easily. Somewhere the lines blurred, and the energy between them caught fire like a barn ablaze, and that fire threatened the safety of their comfortable friendship. Even if that weren’t the case, however, she would still fear for his safety, especially considering the surprising dangers that had erupted in Jolly Mill these past years.
“You’re not a typical man, John,” she said softly. “Not at all.”
And then it was her turn to suppress a smile when he blinked, lips parted. Though he didn’t move away from her, something about him withdrew ever so subtly.
That had been their unspoken dance lately. Move forward, step back, keep time with music they couldn’t actually hear, but that controlled them much more than either of them would have liked.
She knew about John’s obvious unwillingness to reconnect after the great loss he’d experienced when his wife died. His cousin Emma had told Lynley all about it. A man like him didn’t recover from a true love like that as quickly as people expected him to. It only drew her to him more profoundly.
But she needed John now, and she needed this dance of romance to not get in the way. They both needed their wits about them.
John touched the tip of her nose with his finger and grinned into her eyes with such warmth and acceptance, she felt reassured.
“I know how to protect myself, Lynley. A fella doesn’t last long as a policeman if he can’t do that.”
Breathing as deeply and deliberately as she could, she nodded. She felt like a needy woman who couldn’t function without a man, and that was one thing she’d fought against since she walked in on her father and one of his many lady friends when she was a young teen. That day she’d vowed that this was the one path of her mother’s that she didn’t want to follow.
And then she vowed it again after her divorce from the man who turned out just like Daddy.
John got up and reached for the knife she’d held earlier and placed it into her hand. He locked the deck door. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Data wandered back toward Lynley and trilled at her, his serious golden eyes staring into hers as if he knew. Yes, as Dean Koontz had once pointed out in a novel, cats knew things. Data knew more than most, and he had an extensive language that she wished she could understand. He howled when she cried, and she could tell from the tone of his trill that he was worried about her.
John checked the rest of the house with weapon in hand. Lynley sank into the love seat. Data jumped onto her lap. He nudged her chin with his cold, wet nose and his purr gave her a tiny sense of normalcy in this otherwise treacherous morning—as she believed it was meant to.
She buried her face in a white splotch of his black-and-white fur, and came up with a nose filled with cat hair. “Oh, Data, I love you dearly, but right now I wish God had placed you into the body of a Rottweiler.”
But people also killed big, scary animals to get to their victims. Who knew what a crazy person would do?
John returned with his weapon holstered once more. “I’ll call the hospital, let them know what’s happening.”
“Why?”
“To cancel your shifts for the rest of the week.”
“No. We get some tough characters in the ER, and we have tough men who can handle them. Our guys work out.”
His eyes narrowed just a tad. Was that a hint of jealousy she saw there? “So do I.” His voice was almost too quiet. “But why risk an unnecessary attack?”
“Finding another nurse to cover for me—”
“Can be done more easily than hiring extra security to protect you and everyone around you.”
She didn’t feel like arguing. “Where’s Mom? Isn’t she supposed to be here by now?”
John hesitated and glanced at his watch. “Gerard would have called if there was a problem.” But he didn’t sound as sure as she’d have liked.
She knew she wouldn’t be able to breathe deeply until Mom came walking through the front door, safe and secure.
Christmas celebrations had just come to a nasty stop, and Lynley had no idea what the New Year would bring for Jolly Mill, Missouri.
* * *
John watched Lynley with the practiced eye of his profession. It was a good thing he’d learned the hard lessons on the police force: things about keeping his frightened thoughts to himself, keeping his emotions from showing on his face—most of the time—and keeping a steady hand on his weapon. Controlling his behavior didn’t help with his usual gut response to stress, but knowing he could be fit and ready to face what came at him did help him feel safer. Not cocky, just competent.
He stepped out to the glass doors once more to study what he could of the forest to the east of the house. Still no movement. Unfortunately, no one else lived to the east of the house, but someone from the village below, across the creek, might have seen someone here earlier. This afternoon he or Gerard could make some calls, and he was sure Kirstie would want to contact her friends.
He thanked God for Gerard Vance, ex-cop, guardian of those in need. The big man had about twenty pounds on John—mostly muscle—and a couple of years on him, as well, which helped in situations that required experience. John hadn’t realized, when he moved here and took this job in the summer, how difficult it would be to handle the job without backup. He missed his colleagues in Sikeston.
John glanced over his shoulder to the love seat, where Lynley allowed Data, Kirstie’s black-and-white ten-ton cat, to maul her into a furry mess. Focusing on everyday things gave him peace. Apparently, it comforted Lynley, as well, because she simply brushed the fur from her face and continued to snuggle. The cat actually had his front legs wrapped around Lynley’s neck. John could hear a loud purr from where he
