âLet me see you to your car.â
She flicked her eyes back to his, her expression carrying a hint of question but not the suspicion that had been there earlier. âThatâs not necessary.â
âYes, it is. I need to know youâre safe. I couldnât live with myself if I just walked away and something happened to you.â
She raised her chin as if sheâd figured him out. âBecause Iâm the new bossâs sister and an executive at Kendall?â
âNo. I suppose thatâs a good reason, but itâs not my primary one.â Of course, technically, protecting the bossâs sister was his reason for being there, but the words felt good on his tongue.
She tilted her head to the side and arched her eyebrows as if waiting for him to come clean.
âLetâs just say Iâll be thinking about you all night. I donât want those thoughts to be laced with worry.â It sounded like a line, and as soon as heâd said it heâd wanted it back. The ironic thing was, it was one of the first honest things heâd said to her.
Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, ANN VOSS PETERSON wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasnât a practical choiceâone needs to earn a living. So Ann found jobs, including proofreading legal transcripts, working with quarter horses and washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imagination: romantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.annvosspeterson.com.
If Natalie didnât need an infusion of caffeine so badly she could barely see straight, sheâd walk out of the coffee shop right now, despite already having paid for her latte.
She checked her watch and tried to resist the urge to tap the toe of her pump on the tile floor. She could feel the man next to her give her a once-over. Dressed in jeans, with shirttails hanging out and shoes that looked more like slippers than street wear, he was probably thinking she was uptight.
He was probably right.
Six foot, thin build, he was also kind of cute, at least in an ordinary sort of way.
What the heck? She was usually drawn to the good-looking ones. Maybe it was past time to shake things up. Taking a deep breath and curving her lips into a smile, she gave him a glance.
He looked away.
Figures. Natalieâs luck with men was right up there with her talent for finding short lines.
She peered at the darkness outside the coffee shopâs glass doors. Jolie would be finished trying on bridesmaidsâ dresses before Natalie even reached the bridal shop. And Rachel would surely be finished with the fitting for her wedding dress. Natalie wouldnât even get a glimpse. She was on schedule to let down both her future sisters-in-law and disappoint herself, and for what?
Caffeine was a horrible addiction.
âDouble shot, low-fat latte?â The barista raised a pierced brow and plunked the cup on the counter.
Natalie flashed her best imitation of a grateful smile, picked up the coffee. She dodged her fellow addicts and pushed out the door, chimes jingling in her ear.
A chill wind hit her face. November in St. Louis was unpredictable, but one bit of weather that she could count on was that winter would eventually arrive. Apparently it had sometime in the past half hour. Using her free hand to wrap her trench more tightly around her, she made a mental note to dig out her wool coat before work tomorrow.
Her heels clacked hollow on the sidewalk. Dark windows stared down at her from all angles. City noises drifted on the breeze, sounding as if they were coming from the riverfront, blocks away. The temperature wasnât the only thing to have changed in the time sheâd been stuck in the coffee shop. Since sheâd last walked the three blocks from the office, the business district seemed to have vacated for the night.
The bell on the coffee shopâs door jingled, as someone followed her into the cold.
She crossed the side street midblock and headed back toward Kendall Communications and the executive parking garage. The drive to the bridal shop wouldnât take long. And Jolie would try her dress on again, if need be. The night was looking up.
The sound of footsteps shuffled behind her.
She glanced back. The silhouette of a man strode along the sidewalk. Tall, thin, shirttails flapping in the breeze. Must be the guy from the coffee shop, although on second glance, his hands were empty. Shouldnât he be carrying a cup?
She quickened her pace.
She was being silly. She knew it. But there was something about the dark and the quiet and the cold that set her nerves on edge. She just needed to get to the Kendall building. There she could duck into the parking garage and the guy behind her would continue down the sidewalk to wherever it was he was headed.