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After a quick check of the ammunition clip, she turned in the defensive stance her father had taught her years ago during one of his sober periods. She’d honestly never expected to have to use it. Justin returned from the kitchen, but pulled up short two steps into the living room, his gaze fixed on the gun she gripped in front of her.
“What the hell is that for?”
“Protection.”
He held up his hands while taking a step back. “Settle down, Marley—I was just—”
She rolled her eyes and lowered the gun. “Not from you, you idiot.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”
“I have an expert marksman medal to prove it.” She grimaced inwardly at how smug the statement came out.
“I don’t feel any better.” He eyed the weapon with clear uneasiness.
“Is the house empty, or what?”
“It appears to be.”
“Then relax, I’ll put it away.” She replaced the gun on the shelf and closed the closet door. Marley didn’t miss Justin’s expression of relief.
“Why don’t you look around and see if you need to call the police, and I’ll go call a cab,” Justin suggested before disappearing into the kitchen.
Marley did as he said and determined Nate had probably just forgotten to shut the door tight. Thinking of Justin’s hasty retreat, she shook her head with disgust and turned to look out the window at the view of the valley that she’d always found so peaceful. Not tonight.
Hell, she just couldn’t get it right, could she? For the first time in her life she was attracted to a man and in the space of an hour she’d made certain he’d never look at her with interest. Because if punching the jerk at the bar didn’t turn him off, the gun certainly would. Not to mention, she was his boss. Why couldn’t she seem to remember that glaring fact?
“Should I call the police?” Justin asked from the doorway.
Marley spun around. “No, nothing’s missing. It was probably Nate again.”
“Again?”
“Sometimes he forgets to lock the door,” she said. “I’ll remind him to double check it from now on.”
“Be sure that you do,” Justin said with a frown. “The cab’s going to be a little while.”
“That’s fine.” She walked toward him, curious if she could control her body’s reaction when near him. Within five feet, her nerve endings buzzed as if she’d walked into an energy field. Quickly, she skirted past into the kitchen. Damn, now what?
Then it dawned on her—she’d had a couple beers on an empty stomach. She didn’t feel typical tipsy, but that had to be the reason she felt so…tingly. Time for a distraction.
“I’m going to make a pizza, you want some?”
She glanced back to see him lift a shoulder. “Sure.”
Her gaze lingered on his broad shoulder, noting his usual black tee-shirt. With his lighter hair and hazel eyes, dark colors looked great on him. He shifted, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. To keep her attention from dropping lower, she turned to reach into the freezer for the pizza. After removing the cellophane wrapper, she placed the thin-crust pepperoni on the square pizza oven’s metal rack, slid it in, and spun the dial to ten minutes.
The moment she turned around, her gaze zeroed in on his stained jeans despite her best efforts. Feeling heat rush into her face, she quickly looked up and asked, “What’d you do there?”
He straightened. She thought she glimpsed a flash of unease before he simply explained, “Spilled my coffee this morning.”
“Bummer.” Then she heard herself add, “Hope it wasn’t too hot,” as if she was personally worried he’d injured that part of his body.
His slight smile became a smirk. “No, not too hot.”
If her face was warm before, now it positively burned in the ensuing silence. The thawing crumbs of shredded cheese on the counter demanded she clean them up. Fisting the pizza wrapper in one hand, she set aside the cardboard bottom before reaching for the dish cloth draped over the sink divider with the other.
“So how is it you came to be an expert marksman?” he asked.
