“Seems to have worked well enough so far.” I give him a big phony grin.
He’s not amused. “Unbelievable. We live in a city with one of the highest murder rates in the nation and you walk home every nightwithout protection.” He shakes his head. “Did your father ever teach you any self-defense, at least?”
My spine stiffens. “How I get home isnoneof your business,” I snap.
“It’ll be my business when they’re looking for someone to identify you at the morgue.”
“Did I win the anti-lottery or something? It’s Friday night. Can’t we take weekends off from this vendetta?”
He slides his bag off his shoulder, letting it drop to the floor, then folds his arms across his chest. We swap defiant stares.
“Should I take this macho bouncer pose as ayes?”
“Grab your stuff. I’ll walk you home.”
Um,what? I want to laugh, but I think he’s serious. “So you can off me with no witnesses? That’s okay. I’m good.”
“You’renotgood.” His green eyes flash with frustration. Stupid luminous eyes. “Seriously, just forget everything else. It’s not safe to walk home by yourself. I’m not comfortable with it.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t need to be comfortable withmylife choices.”
He sighs and tugs at his tie, loosening it until it slides off, then undoes his top collar button in a quick, practiced motion. It’s such a profoundly male gesture that I pause, my outrage momentarily derailed, my vision narrowing in on the small triangle of skin visible at his neck.
I jolt when he speaks. “Don’t make reckless decisions just to spite me.” He’s rolling his tie into a tightly coiled circle.
“I’m not doing anything tospiteyou. Geez, check your ego. And stop shedding clothing all over my office. This isn’t your bedroom.”
He ceases his rolling. “Do I make you nervous, Princess?”
“You make mesomething.”
His mouth twitches. “I promise I won’t try to jump you on the way home. Scout’s honor.”
Of course he’s a Boy Scout.“Look, I appreciate your concern. And I’m sure there’s no ulterior motive for it, like wanting to toss me down a sewer. But I’ve been walking home—by myself—for years now. And I’m just fine, thank you very much.”
“Where do you live?”
“None of your business.”
“How far is it?” Good Lord, he willnotbe deterred.
I’m sick of this game. I turn and grab a stack of papers off my desk and cross the room to my filing cabinet.
“Kate. How far?”
The way he says my name, my actual name, stops me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him use it before. “Like ten minutes. Listen, I don’t need a big brother.”
“Do youhavea brother?” His voice bleeds irritation.
“Nooo.”I draw it out like he is very slow indeed.
“That’s too bad. Maybe if you did, he could knock some sense into you.”
He’s skated too close to a sore subject, and now I’m pissed. “Well, Idon’thave one, it’s just me, but thank you for yourbrotherlyconcern. You may go now.”
I lurch away from the filing cabinet and immediately trip over his deathtrap of a bag, barely catching myself on the edge of my desk before I go sprawling.
“Can youpleasemove your murse?” I give it a swift kick.
