Body Heat

CHAPTER TEN

FROM YEARS of training, Brianne had developed an internal alarm that worked like a charm and an uncanny ability to hear her beeper, even in her sleep. Only, she wasn’t asleep when the pager went off, she was in the kitchen at seven a.m. pouring a glass of orange juice because she couldn’t sleep. Her bag with her beeper was in the living room where she’d dropped it earlier. Before she’d made love with Jake.

Though she’d rather dwell on every erotic memory of their joining, of soaring with New York City in the background, the persistent sound continued. With a sigh, she retrieved her oversize bag and dug through her things for the small black beeper. She was a bit surprised because she wasn’t scheduled with a patient until nine a.m.

She checked the number and called the hospital back. Though Brianne normally had patients brought to her at Rehab, occasionally she had an immobile patient that couldn’t be moved off the bed but needed strengthening therapy. Mrs. Cohen was one such patient, an elderly woman whom Brianne adored, perhaps because Brianne had no older relatives of her own. The woman had had a skin graft on one leg but still required upper arm workouts so she’d be ready to use her walker when she was allowed out of bed. But why would she need Brianne so early in the morning?

She picked up the phone to find out, but the desk phone on the other end rang endlessly until the hospital’s main switchboard picked up once more. The floor nurse could be with a patient or dealing with an emergency. Brianne shrugged and hung up. The page couldn’t be a mistake, not at this hour. She’d just toss on her clothes and head out early.

Tiptoeing back into her bedroom so as not to wake Jake, she pulled out a pair of black slacks and a white V-necked T-shirt, an acceptable alternative to hospital scrubs, but one she didn’t use often because her uniform was quick and easy. She’d lived on the move for as long as she could remember, and she hadn’t had time to think about how she looked. She didn’t have the time now, either, but the difference was, she cared. Because of the man asleep in her bed.

She made her way to the queen-size mattress and lay down, allowing herself to snuggle beside him for a few precious minutes before leaving for the day. He groaned and pulled her into his arms. He felt so right, so good. She sighed, burrowing her face into his broad chest. He smelled of musk and man, and she’d never felt as safe and protected as she did right now. Ironic, considering he dealt with risk and danger every day.

But she didn’t deal with that risk or danger. And that enabled her to breathe deeply and enjoy this moment. She shut her eyes and smoothed her hands over the strong planes of his back, memorizing the corded muscle and warm skin, giving herself memories to keep close to her heart while she was gone. Then, with regret, she rolled away. He reached out for her in his sleep, and Brianne felt the beginnings of a smile on her lips. It was easier to leave knowing he’d miss her, too.

She could get used to this too easily, and it could be taken away from her just as fast-by Jake’s belief that he didn’t want a long-term relationship. Or by a gunman’s bullet, Brianne thought with a shudder.

Maybe Mrs. Cohen’s page had come at the optimal time, after all. She’d planned on waking up next to him and making love to him again-with protection this time. Their foolishness in the whirlpool couldn’t be repeated, nor would she worry unless and until she had to. But making love with Jake in the morning was a luxury she couldn’t, shouldn’t, make a habit.

No matter how much she was coming to desire otherwise.

JAKE NORMALLY WOKE with the sun, but apparently the late-night activity had worn him out because when he looked up, the clock on the nightstand read 7:48. He felt the warm body heat nestled against him and rolled over, expecting to find Brianne and wanting to bury himself deep inside her again.

Unfortunately, he discovered Norton flush against him instead. “Oh, jeez.” He grimaced in disgust. “You are not the warm body I wanted.”

The dog didn’t move. Jake groaned and pushed himself to an upright position. He still had about fifteen minutes to catch Brianne before she left for work, and regardless of the fact that he wanted to make love to her, he knew he had to talk to her instead. Thanks to his stupidity last night, he’d added something else to his list of sins: sex without protection.

Without warning, his revelations to Brianne came back to him. He’d admitted wanting kids. What he’d omitted was that he’d never really been able to envision the family scene with Linda. Things between them had soured too fast. But Jake could too easily imagine it with Brianne. Waking to her warm body in the morning and falling asleep beside her at night. Watching her body change and grow with his child.

Jesus, where had that thought come from? He jumped out of bed, looked for her in the bathroom, then headed for the kitchen. Unfortunately she wasn’t there, either. His heart skipped a beat, and the note propped against the coffee machine didn’t calm his nerves: “Wish I could have shared the morning coffee with you but I got called to the hospital a little early. Have a cup for me. Brianne.”

She’d left him with a full pot of coffee and a burning sensation in his gut. How the hell had he slept through a phone call?

As if on cue, the telephone rang.

He snatched up the receiver. “Brianne?”

“No, David. If she had to be at the hospital early, why the hell didn’t you call me? I’d have tailed her or relieved you there.”

“She’s at work?”

“Yeah, she’s there. But I can’t do my job if you don’t-”

Jake slammed down the phone, cutting David off cold. “Sorry, buddy,” he muttered belatedly. And he continued muttering as he pulled on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers, grabbed his keys and ran for the door.

This woman would be the death of him. And he wanted to die every morning and every night with her in his arms. But he couldn’t do that if she was wandering around, ignorant of the threat Ramirez posed.

He tipped the doorman and asked him to walk Norton, before hailing a cab and heading for Brianne. He’d put off the truth in favor of selfish need last night, but the morning had come and he had to level with her. Immediately.

BRIANNE RUBBED HER EYES and poured a cup of coffee from the machine in the lounge. She’d gotten here early, and apparently she’d been needed more for emotional support than physical therapy. Mrs. Cohen had become disoriented and had tried to leave her bed. Her family was away, and the name the older woman kept muttering was Brianne’s. It was probably because Brianne didn’t treat only a patient’s body, she treated her mind. She talked to patients while she was working. And she often got the sense that too few people, doctors and family alike, did the same.

She pulled a couple of pink papers out of her pocket, glancing at her messages. One was from her old landlord asking her to come by and pick up her mail-he’d agreed to hold it for her instead of her switching things around for the summer and risking losing important bills and letters. She wondered if there was a reply from the Ranch and shivered. She now viewed the prospect, which had once held great appeal, with increasing uncertainty. Because of Jake.

Brianne took a long, less-than-satisfying sip of the strong, caffeinated brew. She’d need the jolt if she was going to stay awake and on her feet after the night she’d had. And what a night it was-hot, sultry-and she wasn’t talking about the weather. That was why contemplating the end of the summer or, worse, the end of her relationship with Jake was so painful. But the alternative was unbelievably confusing. She massaged her aching head once more.

If a summer affair was supposed to be straightforward and easy, why was Brianne so confused about so many things?

She’d always hoped that if she did get the California job, she would enjoy the same kind of warm rapport with the kids that she did with the elderly adults here. But she couldn’t know for sure, and Brianne liked the geriatric patients she treated. More than she’d admitted to herself. They held a wealth of life history and love, even the cantankerous ones. They counted on her, and she prided herself on knowing she’d never let them down.

And then there was the biggest reason her upcoming move no longer held great appeal. She rubbed at her temples with her right hand. Even if another therapist could take her patients, Jake would still be in New York. Her insides churned, and Brianne understood the reason. She would be across the country, in California with the brother she adored. But he was becoming a man; Marc no longer needed her quite the same way he had when he was younger. She’d called him after leaving Mrs. Cohen and he’d rushed her off the phone; meeting his friends was now more important than talking to his sister. He’d grown up.

Maybe it was time Brianne did the same. Did that mean considering a future in New York, with Jake? She shook her head. What was she thinking? He’d given her no indication he wanted more than a summer fling, and, besides, nothing about their differences had changed. Or had they? Perhaps a better question was, had she changed?

“Brianne?” Sharon burst into the room, a yellow, gold and orange bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. “Someone left this on the front desk. It’s for you.”

Surprised, Brianne took the arrangement and placed it on the table by the old couch.

“Secret admirer?” Sharon asked.

“I don’t know.” Actually, she did know, and warmth spread through her. She hadn’t thought Jake was a flowers kind of guy but apparently she was wrong. She held the knowledge close, having no desire to “share” Jake, her feelings or his gift, by discussing him-even with a friend.

“They are beautiful,” Sharon said.

Brianne glanced at the flowers. They were charming and perfect for her. She didn’t know what they were called, but she adored the simple arrangement.

The phone in the lounge rang, and Brianne picked it up on the first ring. “Rehab, Brianne Nelson speaking.”

“Did you like the gift?” asked a deep male voice with a trace of a foreign accent.

She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. “I think you have the wrong person.”

“You said this is Brianne Nelson.”

“It is,” she said warily, the memory of the man with the tattoo sneaking into her mind. “Who is this?”

“I thought a classy woman like you would have better manners. Don’t I deserve a thanks for sending pretty flowers to such a pretty woman?”

“Maybe I’d thank you if I knew who you were.” She heard the shaking in her voice and tamped down on her nerves.

But Sharon must have sensed her anxiety; she put a comforting hand on her back.

“No? Well, then you can thank me in person,” the stranger said.

“Who are you?” Brianne didn’t know if she was dealing with a benign secret admirer or a stalker. Despite her best efforts, trembling turned to shaking, and she eyed the flowers she’d once found lovely with anxious confusion.

“Hang up, Brianne.” At the sound of Jake’s voice, she whipped around, surprised he’d come to find her here, but not really surprised he’d be around when she needed him.

She didn’t question his right to give orders; she just slammed the phone into the cradle and took a step back, away from the floral bouquet.

“Can we have a few minutes alone?” Jake asked.

Brianne glanced at Sharon, who was staring back and forth between Brianne and Jake, obviously unsure of what to make of the situation. Brianne didn’t know what to make of it, either.

“It’s okay. I need to talk to him,” she told her friend.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Sharon said, a curious yet in-awe expression on her face when she looked at Jake. “If you need anything, I’ll be out front.”

“Thanks.” Brianne glanced at her watch, and though her breathing came in shallow gasps, she somehow managed to go through her schedule in her mind. “Sharon, could you please take my nine-thirty? I’ll owe you, I promise.”

“Not a problem. You can repay me with information.” After another lingering glance at Jake, Sharon walked out of the lounge, leaving the two of them alone.

Jake stood in front of her and squeezed her trembling hands in his. “What happened?” He put an arm around her waist and led her to an old plaid couch.

She’d worked here for so long, yet the couch predated her. It was worn and familiar and gave her a steadying calm she desperately needed. She forced herself to recount her morning, something that helped to calm her nerves. “I got paged on my beeper early.”

“And I didn’t hear it because…?”

“I was in the kitchen getting a glass of juice and you were still fast asleep. My bag with the pager was still in the living room.” And she didn’t have to tell him why her purse had never made it into her bedroom last night. The darkening in his gaze told her he remembered everything about last night as vividly as she did.

“Okay, so you were paged. Then what?”

“Is this what they call the third degree, Detective?” she asked lightly. She appreciated not just his concern but his very presence. Sexy razor stubble covered his cheeks, his hair looked as though he’d just tumbled out of bed and he was completely focused on her. He was her fantasy come to life-if the circumstances weren’t so unnerving, Brianne thought. At the reminder of that phone call, she shivered and sought to divert her thoughts.

He brushed her hair back from her face, calming her. “This is what they call concern. Now quit stalling and go on.”

Brianne had never underestimated his talent or ability as a law enforcement officer, and she saw now that she’d been right. The man was determined, and anyone who needed him would not be let down, but Brianne had no desire to fall into the needy category.

She’d been on her own and strong for too long to let one phone call turn her into a basket case. “I recognized the extension and called the hospital to see what they wanted.”

“Is it unusual for you to be paged so early in the morning?”

She nodded. “Unusual but not unheard of. It wasn’t the Rehab desk, either, so I knew it had to be important. I called back, no one answered, and I figured it was a real emergency. I found out I was right.”

She told him about her elderly patient, and he listened with intense interest. “I told her stories about Marc and why I became a physical therapist to calm and distract her.”

“Not exactly in your job description.” Warm admiration filled his gaze.

She shrugged self-consciously. “What can I say? I’m a born nurturer.”

That she was, Jake thought. And he wouldn’t mind being the recipient of that caring. But with Ramirez closing in, Jake doubted the fates had that in store.

But hearing her talk about her relationship with her patients, a smile tilted his lips. “I think those are stories I’d like to hear myself one day.” A day when Brianne wasn’t in danger…and if she was speaking to him again by then.

“I have to warn you, my stories put Mrs. Cohen to sleep. Though the sedative might have had something to do with that.” She managed a laugh but sobered quickly, obviously remembering why she was relaying the story to him.

“I come from sturdier stock than your last patient. I’m sure I’ll manage to stay awake.” From his experience questioning witnesses and from his innate understanding of crime victims, he realized that if he let her continue on a tangent, she would. It was normal to want to focus on everything but the danger she was in.

He would have loved to let her push aside her fears, but he needed her information too badly. He squeezed her hand. “Go on.”

She sighed. “Well, after the sedative kicked in and she fell back to sleep, I called Marc. Then I came in here for coffee. Sharon brought me the flowers that were left at the desk. I thought the flowers were from you.”

“They were poppies,” he said.

She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Really? I had no idea. I’m a city girl, remember? I wouldn’t know one flower from the next.”

“Normally I wouldn’t, either.” But poppies were associated with narcotics, something any cop would know. The flowers themselves weren’t used to make drugs but the sap of an unripe seedpod was the source of heroin, opium, morphine, codeine and more. The flowers had been Ramirez’s calling card, something the slime knew Jake would recognize.

Brianne stared at him curiously. “Even a Neanderthal would know roses, but you recognize poppies? I’d never have guessed. The only thing I know about poppies is from The Wizard of Oz and the deadly poppy field…”

Her eyes opened wide, and Jake knew the minute she put two and two together, even before she verbalized her thoughts.

“You got shot trying to arrest a drug dealer. I saw you in the hospital yesterday on the same floor as the patient who overdosed.”

He inclined his head. Jake hadn’t realized she’d seen him yesterday. He let out a groan. He should have known better than to think he’d gotten off easy. With Brianne, nothing was simple.

“Today’s delivery of flowers wasn’t a coincidence, was it?” she asked, dread showing in her face.

Even though her voice was strong, her cheeks had drained of color. His gut twisted tight. He only hoped she’d continue to hold it together when he revealed the rest, but given her history of anxiety and well-founded fear, he was concerned.

He hated causing her pain and drew a deep breath for courage. “It’s no coincidence,” he agreed. “And we’re talking about the same dealer that shot me.”

A visible shudder rippled through her. “And this involves me how?”

She narrowed her eyes, and Jake knew this was it, the time to level. No backpedaling, no ducking out. It was also, he realized, the defining moment in their relationship.

He took her hand in his and looked her in the eye. “You’re being targeted by a drug dealer named Louis Ramirez, probably because he’s figured out what you mean to me and sees you as a way to get to me.” His growing feelings for Brianne had caused exactly what he’d wanted to avoid from the beginning-she’d become a valuable commodity to his enemy.

If anything happened to Brianne, it would kill Jake. Ramirez obviously knew enough to play a cat-and-mouse game-a game Jake didn’t appreciate. From the shocked, then angry look on Brianne’s face, neither did she.

“I’m in danger because of you?”

He heard the betrayal in her voice, and it struck him like a blow. He nodded. “Indirectly, yes. It looks that way.” Technically she was in danger because she’d accepted his sister’s offer and moved into the penthouse. But he wouldn’t upset her further by clarifying the situation.

From the moment Jake had heard of his sister’s meddlesome plan, he’d been filled with dread. He’d just never envisioned Brianne being hurt in any way. If he had, he’d have thrown her out that first day, despite her having accepted Rina’s job in good faith. No matter how much she’d tempted him. Jake glanced down at their intertwined hands and felt as if he was viewing his last link to the woman he cared so much about.

“This Ramirez. He has an accent?” she asked through clenched teeth.

Once again, Jake nodded.

“He…He said on the phone that I could thank him for the flowers in person.” She yanked her hand free, and Jake felt a loss that went far deeper than the end of physical contact. “How did he know where to find me?”

“He’s been watching you.” He let his guilty gaze dart away from hers. “For a while now.”

“The guy outside the coffee shop?”

“Yes.”

She began to clench and unclench her fists, the only outward signs of the anger and betrayal he felt sure were simmering inside her.

“What makes you so sure it’s the same guy?”

As a cop, he appreciated her deadly accurate questioning, but as the man who’d violated her trust, he wished she wasn’t so quick to put the puzzle together. “The tattoo, for one thing. He’s also been seen around the streets outside the hospital.”

“Seen by whom?” Brianne asked. But as she spoke, she began to question more than Ramirez’s hidden agenda. She began to question Jake’s.

He was certain of too much to be coming into this situation fresh. Since awakening this morning, emotion and confusion had been her constant companions-her stomach rolled, her head ached. And she had a hunch things weren’t about to change anytime soon.

He inhaled deeply. “That’s where things get complicated.” He ran a hand through his hair and stood, then began pacing the floor in front of the couch. “Back when you mentioned you thought you were being followed, I got suspicious.”

“But you didn’t let on. In fact, you lied.” The hurt and the anger she’d been holding back rose to the surface.

“Yes. No.” He shook his head in frustration. “I protected you. You’d just gotten through telling me you had a well-founded history of anxiety. You equated me to your parents and admitted that when I entered your life, history of danger and all, I’d probably caused all those fears to resurface. I couldn’t bring myself to validate your feelings and upset you, or somehow set you off again.”

“It’s not like I’m some mental patient that needed sheltering! I asked for your professional advice. I didn’t ask you to cushion me from the truth.” She rose. “I thought I was being followed. I may not have liked it, but I could have dealt with it. I’ve dealt with a hell of a lot worse.”

“That’s bull.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and met her gaze. “You’ve dealt with tragedy and come through stronger than you were before. But unless you’ve dealt with a psychotic like Ramirez, one who’d kill you as easily as he’d blink, you haven’t dealt with worse. Not even close.”

At his words, she jerked back, the truth striking her in the heart.

“I’m sorry to scare you, but I’m not sorry for laying out the facts.”

“A little late, but you’re right.” She straightened her shoulders and found the inner strength she knew she possessed. “I haven’t been through worse. This ‘psychotic’ has been following me. Didn’t I deserve the chance to protect myself?” She pinned him with her glare. She wasn’t about to let him off the hook for keeping such a serious secret from her.

He cleared his throat. “I made sure you were protected.”

“Not very well if those flowers got through,” she muttered.

“Hospital flowers are delivered all the time.” He held his hands up in front of him in supplication. “But I’m not here to argue with you, okay?”

But she’d obviously hurt him, because a flash of pain crossed his handsome face. Still, she couldn’t afford to feel sorry for him, not when she had a cop killer sending her flowers and calling her at work. A chill rippled along her spine. “Protected me how? And don’t leave anything out.”

“There wouldn’t be any point to that now.”

“But I don’t know that for sure, do I? I don’t see why you held out on me to begin with.” She folded her arms across her chest, more to prevent the shaking than as a defense mechanism.

“I’ve had a detective following you,” he told her. “And when he wasn’t with you, I was.”

His words shouldn’t have shocked her but they did. She braced her folded hands lower, around her stomach, a way of offering herself comfort, although she found none. A small part of her wondered if Jake’s recent interest had more to do with keeping her in his apartment than keeping her in his bed.

He’d been deep inside her body, and they’d made love many times, and so her heart rebelled against the idea. Her mind insisted he’d been drawn to her long before she’d moved into the penthouse and before she’d become a target. But her wounded pride and sense of betrayal still made her question his motives. She didn’t want to believe he’d lie, not even in the name of protection.

And she didn’t want him to see her as weak. “Okay, so now what, Detective?”

This time he flinched at her formal tone. “This isn’t official business for me, Brianne.”

“No, you’re on leave. But you just can’t seem to stay away from the danger. And this time your need for that adrenaline rush brought that danger right to my doorstep.”

“Our doorstep, or have you forgotten you moved in with me?” he asked through clenched teeth.

He was right. She was blaming him for things that were out of his control. She let out a slow breath. “Okay, so how close are the police to wrapping things up and getting this guy behind bars? Before he gets me, I mean.”

Once again he avoided her eyes. “Not very,” he admitted, and went on to explain the case as it related to the drug overdose patient in Emergency, including The Eclectic Eatery’s probable connection and Jake’s inability to score drugs there. “But we haven’t been able to link the overdose to the restaurant or Ramirez.”

“Great. So I’m a walking target.” The shaking returned along with the unsteady intakes of air until she felt light-headed and dizzy.

He must have sensed her distress because he placed a hand on her arm, but she shrugged off his touch and lowered herself onto the couch. During the course of her personal anxiety therapy, she’d learned intensive breathing that enabled her to create a calm, safe center deep within herself. She ignored Jake and concentrated on steady breathing until the room stopped spinning and she could focus once more.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his blue eyes deep with concern. “Nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m around. And I’m not leaving your side.”

“Just what I wanted, a bodyguard,” she said wryly. Especially one who’d slept with her so he would know where she was at night, Brianne thought.

He moved to her side. His masculine scent was overpowering, seducing her with memories of last night. “You know I don’t find guarding your body a hardship.”

“So you like sex. That hardly makes me feel better right now.” But she was lying. Just knowing she had Jake by her side did make her feel much better. More confusion, she thought.

“I’m going to ignore that.”

But she didn’t miss the hurt in his tone. She knew she was being unreasonably cold toward him, but she couldn’t discount the fact that he’d let her wander the streets of New York, unaware that she was being followed by both a drug dealer and a detective he’d hired. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

His concerned gaze roamed over her. “You need to be careful, okay? Don’t go to the cafeteria or the supply closet or even the bathroom alone. Don’t walk anywhere by yourself, do you understand? I’ll bring David inside to meet you. He’s your bodyguard during the day. He’s smart and he’s good. What I’m saying is follow the rules and you won’t get hurt.”

She hugged herself. “And where will you be?”

“Getting Ramirez before he gets you.” He turned away.

“Jake, wait.” She grabbed on to his arm and held on fast. She didn’t want him putting himself in danger at all, but especially not for her.

Because she loved him. Oh God.

Love. She should have seen it coming and hadn’t. All she’d viewed was mountains of questions and hills of confusion. That hadn’t changed. She hadn’t a clue how she felt about loving this man who loved danger. She only felt an overwhelming need to protect him from himself.

He pivoted back to her. “What is it?”

“How? How are you going to get him?” she asked, her voice urgent.

“He wants me and he’s obviously using you to get to me. If I can’t get him for dealing, I’ll get him for attempted murder.”

Her heart skipped a beat and fear took hold. “Attempted murder of who? You? Who is that going to help?” Brianne asked. Because if anything happened to Jake, it wouldn’t help her. But it just might kill her.

“Attempted, sweetheart. He’s not going to hurt me, but he is going away. I want him behind bars where he belongs.”

She didn’t miss the fiery determination in his gaze or the absolute certainty in his voice. He’d get Ramirez and he didn’t care how. Brianne realized she was looking at Jake Lowell, the detective, and the thought of him putting himself on the line scared her more than being in danger herself.

She wanted to believe it was old habits returning. That she was experiencing the same fear she’d felt each time her parents walked out the door on a risky adventure, because she didn’t know if they’d come home to her. But in her heart she now knew this was different. Jake was different and so were her emotions and the feelings she had invested in him. She wasn’t experiencing a recurrence of old anxieties now. She was scared of losing Jake.

She squeezed his arm tighter. “You can’t make yourself a target. Jake, please. Promise me you won’t do that.”

There was regret in his eyes and etched into his handsome features. “I can’t make that kind of promise.”

“Why not? There’s an entire police force out there. You’re injured and on leave. You aren’t in top form. Let someone who’s got full strength handle things for you.” The pleading in her voice reminded her of the little girl she’d once been.

Mommy, Daddy, please don’t go. What if the race car crashes? What if the cord breaks? What if…what if…what if…? So many variations on the same theme and none of them had made a damn bit of difference. They’d walked out on her, anyway, until one day her worst fears had been realized-they hadn’t come back. From the uncompromising look on Jake’s face, he was going to do the same thing.

And, without warning, Brianne realized she had to let him. Because she was no longer that scared little girl, but a woman who’d already undergone the very terror she feared. And she’d survived.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have to do this,” Jake said.

“I know.” Though Brianne didn’t like it, she forced herself to admit she understood his reasons. Being a cop was part of who Jake was. He couldn’t walk away from a case. And she wouldn’t ask him to again.

“You understand?” His shock was tangible. His body jerked backward as if she’d slapped him.

She nodded. “Because I know you. It just couldn’t hurt to ask if you’d let someone else handle things.” The fact that she understood why he had to do this didn’t make it any easier to let him do his job, but she had no choice-just as she had had no choice but to pull herself together and raise Marc.

Until meeting Jake, Brianne had never acknowledged her inner strength, had never had a reason to face or begin to understand herself and the person she’d become. She’d always thought of herself as vulnerable, but she saw now that that was an illusion and she respected herself in a way she hadn’t before.

She met Jake’s stare. In the blue depths of his eyes, she saw a mixture of awe and uncertainty. He wasn’t sure he could trust her faith, and Brianne understood his reasons went beyond her dislike of his job. Jake’s ex-wife had bailed out on him-not just on his lack of money, but on him. Brianne couldn’t do the same.

She leaned over and brushed a kiss over his lips, a gesture meant as a show of faith. He grabbed on to her face and turned the kiss into something deep and meaningful. Or so she chose to believe-because she loved him, she thought once more. And she refused to sit back and let him risk his life to protect her, not without a little help in return.

She lifted her lips from his. “Go do your stuff,” she murmured.

He glanced at her, his eyes wide. She’d shocked him again. She wondered if he’d expected her to fall apart; if he believed, because her anxiety had resurfaced, that she couldn’t cope at all. It was possible. After all, he’d withheld the truth and hired a PI behind her back. She waited for him to question her, but, without another word, he walked out of the lounge, and a few minutes later returned with her watchdog. David was a burly guy with a baseball cap perched over blond hair and unemotional brown eyes.

She shook his hand and turned away. Though she was grateful for his presence, she was too consumed with the notion of proving to Jake as well as to herself not only that she was strong, but that she was his equal, that she could deal with the Ramirez situation, too. And, in the process, she intended to make sure nothing happened to her fantasy man.

Because when this mess was over, she wanted him alive and well. Not dead on the street. Her stomach churned and dizziness fought its way back, but Brianne, through deep breathing and sheer force of will, managed to stay in control. She’d impressed herself, and a smile fought its way to her lips.

She didn’t have a clue how things with Jake would wind up. She still didn’t know if she could accept the detective and his lifestyle-for herself and forever. Whether he even wanted her beyond this summer was also an open question.

The answers would come, Brianne knew, after Ramirez was out of their lives for good.