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Her breath stalled in her lungs and she wished she had more time to appreciate the sexy view. The wide expanse of muscled chest dusted with dark hair tempted her to come closer. Her fingers tingled with anticipation. But a new, more ominous awareness chased the pure, feminine curiosity. His presence tempted her to lean in and seek comfort he wasn’t offering.
“Whatever it is, you can’t go back to Haleswood today.”
“You don’t even know what happened.”
“Don’t have to. We made a deal and—”
“They broke into the shelter.”
His furrowed brow shading his eyes was the only indication he’d even heard her. “That’s not what—”
“I don’t care what you planned. J.C. said the warm up fights happened right there at the shelter. That makes our previous discussion irrelevant. I am going back to help.”
“Will you ever stop interrupting me?”
She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Waiting. He didn’t look all that convinced, but she’d learned the value of patience when necessary. Mainly she was patient while out hunting, but what was this situation if not a glorified hunting party? The quarry wasn’t deer or turkey, it was a group of nasty, corrupt criminals and—
“Don’t do it,” he said, his voice low.
She made a show of pressing her lips together. If he would actually say something helpful, she wouldn’t feel the need to lay out the facts all over again.
He walked—his limp more pronounced than the night before—to the coffee pot and, with sparse motions, started the system brewing. As the aroma filled the kitchen, he inhaled and looked at her.
She felt every tick of time wasted like a pin-prick between her shoulder blades, but she held her tongue.
“What I was trying to say was an attack at the shelter is not what I expected.” He didn’t look any happier about the development than she felt. Although he was so consistently grim it was hard to tell for sure.
His statement raised several new questions but she didn’t voice any of them. If he thought she lacked control, he would soon learn the opposite was true. Provided he approached this situation with an open mind. Being passionate with a purpose—especially a worthy purpose like putting an end to corruption and animal abuse—should be a point of common ground.
On some level that defied understanding, she wanted him to see they had common ground. That she could do more than wear an expensive, oversized ring while he solved the case singlehandedly.
Her thumb rubbed at the platinum band of the heavy ring. There had been no reason to wear it all night and yet she’d left it on.
“Is it bothering you?”
She followed his hard gaze to the nearly imperceptible movement of her left hand. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you fiddling with it?”
Christ! They had more important things to discuss. “Do you have any female relatives close to your age?”
He shot her a baffled look. “No.”
“Friends?”
“Not really.”
No surprise. “Any co-workers recently engaged?” Now who’s off topic? she thought, pressing on.
He shook his head.
She sighed. “When a woman gets engaged, the ring is a new experience. Not just a new purchase, but a new feeling.” Heather extended her hand and admired the view much as her oldest sister had done. She did her best impersonation of the dorky, enamored smile as she turned the ring to and fro to catch the light. “You’ll see a newly engaged woman drive with her left hand at 12 o’clock on the steering wheel, just to see the thing sparkle. What I’m doing is staying in character.” She said it rationally, effectively putting an end to any speculation about her discomfort playing this role.
He didn’t reply, just studied her as if she were an unexpected specimen under a microscope. Behind him the coffee pot gurgled once, then again, as the last of the brew dripped into the pot. He turned, giving her an excellent view of his back as he opened a cabinet for mugs. “Coffee?” He raised one toward her.
“No thanks. I prefer tea.”
