Page 6 of Hawk and the Cougar

“There’s no difference,” she said.

“There’s a huge difference.”

She snorted. “Sure, and a multi-millionaire really is trying to kill you.”

“That was four tons of steel coming at you,” Hawk said, all humor gone. “I’d say they were trying to kill you.”

Her eyes widened, and he should have regretted her fear but didn’t. The last thing he wanted was her thinking he played chicken for fun. He leaned past her to the glove box. She jerked back into the corner as if he were a rattler. He paused and shifted his gaze to hers. She lifted her chin, and he resisted a smile. With some time, he’d find out what that fire felt like when he slid inside her. His body clenched at the thought of her walls tightening around him in climax. Damn it, he was two seconds away from making an even bigger fool of himself than he already had.

Hawk opened the glove box, pulled a card from those he’d thrown inside, then pushed it closed. He straightened and extended the card to her. “After you’ve spoken with Emma, give me a call. She’s a talented student. I don’t want to lose her.”

And he sure as hell didn’t like this misunderstanding.

She grasped the card, but he didn’t release it. “What’s your name?”

She hesitated. “Elizabeth.”

Hawk would bet she went by Liz, but she wasn’t yet friendly enough to own up to it. He released the card. “Do me a favor and let me deal with the police.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off, “I’d rather you weren’t on Reid’s radar.”

She hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a mean son of a bitch who won’t blink an eye at hurting you if he thinks I’ll care.”

She snorted. “You wouldn’t care.”

“I would. You’d better get home. I’ll wait until you’re in your car.”

She stared for a moment, and he thought she would say something more, but she got out of the truck without a word.

* * *

Liz reached across the kitchen table and clasped her daughter’s hand. Last night, while Liz had paid her visit to the university, Emma had returned home sick with a cold. Liz hadn’t known she was there until she’d appeared in the kitchen twenty minutes ago.

“I’m not mad,” Liz said. “You’re young. He’s older and knows better.” She recalled Professor Hawkins’ cool composure when she’d accused him of sleeping with Emma. “The man is a cool character.”

“What do you mean he’s a cool character?” Emma’s eyes widened. “Oh, Mom, you didn’t—”

“Em, I couldn’t take the chance he would use the dig as an opportunity to manipulate you.”

Emma stared. “You went to my professor and accused him of screwing me?”

“Emma,” Liz said.

Emma wiped her stuffy nose with the tissue she gripped. “I don’t believe this. Professor Hawkins has never looked at me the wrong way, much less slept with me. He wouldn’t go for it even if I wanted to.”

“The guy is young and gorgeous,” Liz said. “You’re telling me he would resist a young woman like you?”

Emma shook her head. “I’m really surprised at you, Mom. If we were talking about a beautiful female professor, would you say that?”

“It’s not the same,” Liz said.

“Oh, my God.” She rolled her eyes. “My mother is a sexist.”

Liz hadn’t forgotten Professor Hawkins’ calm insistence that she talk to Emma, then talk to him. How many guilty men would have been so composed? She also remembered the confession that he’d thought she was a hooker. No, a “high-priced call girl.” That would account for the way he’d backed her against the truck and kissed her.

Kissed her? The memory of nearly getting run over by the SUV, mingled with the recollection of his steel arms around her when he’d pulled her to safety, caused her nipples to tightened as they had last night. Which was he, letch or hero? That question, and the memory of his hard body pressed against her, had kept her awake half the night. Was it really possible he was a hero?

“You’re not protecting him?” Liz persisted.