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“You can't. You don't know where I live.”
“I know you live in Providence. You've told me that much.”
“So?”
His grin was wicked and quick; it made Murphy's heart beat a little—oh, okay, a lot—faster.
“I'm a cop, remember? I'll find you.”
“I hope so,” she said, liking the sound of that. If anyone could find her, it would be him. Fast on the heels of that thought came another, more disturbing one: that out of all the people in the world, if there was anyone Murphy wanted to have find her, it was Garrett.
She smiled and, feeling suddenly nervous, turned toward Stephen and told him she was ready to go. They were halfway to the door when Garrett's voice shot out from behind them.
“Murphy?”
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if Garrett saw the excited flush that hearing her name on his lips had brought to her cheeks. “Yes?”
“Two things. First, I want you to remember, always, that Murphy's Law has to change sometime. Second…um, what's your last name?”
“Didn't I—?” Already tell him? No, she never had, Murphy realized, and laughed. “It's McKenna.”
“Murphy McKenna,” he said, tasting the name on his tongue. His gaze dipped to her lips, darkened as though with a memory, then rose to capture hers again. “Typically strange, but nice. Thank you, Murphy McKenna.”
“For what?”
“Everything.” His gaze raked her, and Murphy smoldered under the intensity of it. “But mostly, thank you for coming back for me.”
She wasn't the sort to act impulsively; most things in life she very carefully planned beforehand. Yet today, for an unprecedented second time, she acted on instinct alone.
Turning, she walked backed to Garrett and, bending at the waist, kissed him hard and long and deep.
He sucked in a quick, unsteady breath. It was no more quick and unsteady than her own.
Against his mouth, she whispered huskily, “You're very welcome. And just for the record, I'm very glad I went back for you, too.”
Chapter 9
Murphy's Law #9: If there is a worse time
for something to go wrong,
it will happen then…
“IT COULD HAVE been worse, Murph. You could have burned the house down.” Tom McKenna grinned and, reaching into the milk-glass bowl of cashews Murphy had set out on the kitchen table for him, scooped up a handful of the crescent shaped nuts and popped them into his mouth. He munched contentedly.
In looks, he was similar to his sister; curly brown hair, fair skin, vaguely slanted, sea-green eyes. Tom McKenna wasn't tall, standing scarcely two inches over Murphy's five foot seven. His build was wiry. What he lacked in size, however, he made up for in character. His sense of humor was as big as it was warped, and he had a grin that could charm Moonshine out of his fur.
“Enough already.” Murphy rolled her eyes, absently patting Moonshine, who'd curled up into a warm, heavy ball in her lap. “Why is it that, in the three weeks I've been home, the only thing you've wanted to talk about is my vacation?”
“You have to admit, as vacations go, it
was some vacation. Most people who go to Maine for a week can't brag about getting kidnapped by a bank robber, then almost freezing to death in their own car while he tries to make a getaway.”
“Have you been watching bad B movies again?” Moonshine squirmed on Murphy's lap, nudging her to scratch behind his ear. “For the last time, Garrett isn't a bank robber, he did not kidnap me, and he wasn't making a ‘getaway', he was trying to get to a doctor.”
Her brother's grin broadened as he popped another cashew into his mouth. “Uh-huh. If you say so.”
“Don't make me hurt you,” Murphy grumbled, her tone only half serious. It was a common threat; she didn't expect him to take her seriously, and therefore wasn't disappointed.
