Page 8

Since she didn't have any more time to spend trying to find out where the person watching her was hiding, she let the curtains fall closed and turned to make her bed.

She had splurged a little on her bedroom furniture, the sleigh bed and matching nightstands, dresser, and wardrobe were all in a beautiful maple, and she loved running her hand over the smooth, silky wood.

Once the bed was made she opened her wardrobe, grabbed a pair of black jeans, some knee-high boots, a blue sweater, and her thick black coat.

She made quick work of getting dressed, brushed her teeth, ran a brush through her long blonde hair and pulled it into a ponytail, and grabbed an apple to eat as she walked the block to the subway.

Taking the stairs, she stepped out into the chilly winter morning a mere five minutes after ending the phone call to her partner, glad as she always was that she didn't have some long morning routine with makeup and hair products. She wanted to get to the crime scene as promptly as she could.

Although they would continue to work the Dumpster Killer case—more diligently than ever after what had happened the other night—it didn't mean there wouldn’t be new cases coming in.

She and Jake had been next in the rotation so they’d been the ones to be assigned to this case.

From what her boss had told her it seemed like it would be fairly open and shut.

It appeared to be a case of domestic violence, the victim was a woman in her mid-thirties, the husband had been in and out of prison, cops had been to their apartment several times, neighbors reported a loud argument right before shots rang out.

Domestic violence cases always hit close to home for her.

How many times had she watched her mother get beaten up by her newest boyfriend?

More than she cared to admit.

As she walked toward the subway, she became aware of someone following her.

Immediately, thoughts of her messed up childhood fled her mind as she focused her energy on everything happening around her. The streets weren't busy, but there were people about, one set of footsteps in particular seemed to be following her.

Noting the details, she determined that the footsteps belonged to a man, substantially larger than herself. He seemed to be trying to keep the distance between them the same, no doubt waiting until there was no one about before he made his move.

Too bad for him she was going to make her move first.

Florence turned the corner, the subway station was just up ahead, but instead of going for it, she ducked into the doorway of the nearest building.

Moments later, a man in a dark suit came around the corner.

Pulling out her gun, she pointed it at his head. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.

The man turned. “Are you going to be pointing a gun at me every time we talk?”

“Eli,” she said, letting out a frustrated breath while at the same time a bunch of nervous butterflies took up residence in her stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to offer you a ride to work.” His easy smile was in place, and his dark eyes were twinkling as though he found it amusing to have a gun pointed at him. “You going to put that thing away?”

Holstering her gun, Florence resumed walking toward the subway. “How did you find out where I live?”

“I may have called in a favor to get your address. Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.” She should be angry with him, that was a major invasion of her privacy, not to mention it was borderline stalkerish, and yet she felt a little excited.

She’d learned as a child not to trust men, and that had carried into adulthood.

As a teenager she’d gravitated to bad boys, but after having her heart broken a couple of times, she’d realized men were more trouble than they were worth.

So why did the fact that Eli was pursuing her make her feel like a giddy schoolgirl?

If there was one thing Florence Harris wasn't, it was a giddy schoolgirl.

Until now, apparently.

“I can do contrite if it’s going to convince you to go on a date with me,” he said, reaching out to take her hand, entwining their fingers.

“I’m not sure I should be rewarding this kind of behavior.

” The more he persisted in trying to convince her to date him, the more her resolve weakened.

Eli was a playboy, used to having women throw themselves at him, she was a cop who couldn’t remember the last date she’d been on.

They were about as mismatched a couple as they came.

And she wasn't sure she was ready to break down the barriers she had erected around her heart.

“Does that mean if I'm on my best behavior, you’ll say yes?”

“You are impossible,” she said but didn't pull her hand out of his. “If you came by my apartment to offer me a ride, why were you standing watching me in the window? And why didn't you say something when I came out? Why were you following me down the street?”

“I wasn't standing watching you in the window,” Eli said, stopping and releasing her hand so he could place both of his on her shoulders.

“When my driver pulled up you were walking down the street.

I didn't want to scare you so I was just going to catch up with you and say hi. Was someone watching you?”

Uncertain now that she had to discuss it, Florence wavered. “I thought someone was watching me earlier when I was on the phone, but maybe I just imagined it.”

“I don’t like it.” His brow furrowed, and the charming smile was gone.

“Don’t like what?”

“Someone watching you. Let me drive you to work, Florence, just in case whoever it was is still here somewhere.”

“You do remember that I'm the cop, right? I have my gun on me.”

“Like I'd forget,” he said, a small smile curving his lips up. “I'd just feel better if you weren't catching the subway on your own. I saved your life, remember? That means I'm responsible for your safety.”

“You're going to protect me?” she asked dubiously. “Have you ever even held a gun before?”

“I'm a guy, I know all about shooting.” The grin on his face and the teasing tone of his voice coaxed a laugh out of her.

“I don’t mean that kind of shooting,” she said with a pointed look at his groin. “I really have to get going, I'm supposed to be at a crime scene in ten minutes.”

“Then let me drive you. My driver can get you there quicker than the subway can. Come on, Florence,” he coaxed. “This isn’t a date, it’s just one friend helping out another friend.”

“When did we become friends?”

“When I pushed you out of the way of that car that wanted to mow you down. Someone tried to kill you that night, and now you think someone was watching you. Someone who knows where you live. I'm worried about you. Please, let me give you a ride to your crime scene so I know you get there safely.”

It wasn't his logic that got to her.

It wasn't the fact that he probably would be able to get her there quicker than the subway.

It wasn't even that he was asking her rather than telling her, and asking politely.

It was that he’d said he was worried about her.

No one but her brother had ever worried about her.

Her brother and now apparently Eli Lennox.

5:47 P.M.

He was getting impatient.

Waiting wasn't something that Eli was good at.

Or used to doing.

When he wanted something he got it, the only thing in his life that he hadn't been able to get was something to save his family. His brother had died while he was off at a party with his friends. While he’d been having wild sex with his girlfriend of the moment, his brother had been struggling to breathe as his allergy squeezed the life out of him.

Although Eli had only been twenty at the time, his brother a decade older, that moment had changed his life.

His course turned in a completely different direction, and as he walked a different path, bit by bit, he himself changed.

That easy-going kid who still carried that air of immortality was gone, replaced by someone who had to learn how to survive in the cutthroat world of billion-dollar businesses.

Watching his mother waste away as she valiantly fought the cancer that was invading her body, and then his father die slowly of a broken heart having lost his other half, he’d been filled with a desire to find his other half.

When he had pictured what that woman would be like it was nothing like Florence Harris, and yet she was the only woman he’d ever met who had consumed him.

She was all he could think about.

All day he’d been unable to concentrate, while he usually spent hours at the office, there was always something needing attention no matter how many people he had working for him, today he’d been counting down the hours until he could leave.

Florence hadn't told him when she’d be done for the day when he’d offered to come and pick her up after work, but since he knew which precinct she worked out of, he’d decided he would simply sit and wait for her to leave.

Knowing it was unlikely that she would leave any earlier than five, he’d had his driver pick him up at quarter to and drive him over there so he could wait.

Which he was still doing nearly an hour later.

It took every single ounce of his self-control not to go barging in there and demand that she come with him.

If he wasn't trying to win her over and convince her to go on a date with him then he might have done it. But he knew for a fact that if he went all alpha controlling on her, all he would be doing was pushing her further away.

Eli had no idea why it was so important that he convince her to give him a chance, but he wasn't going to argue against how he felt, he was just going to go with it. He’d heard enough times growing up about how it had been love at first sight for his parents, and while he didn't think he was ready to claim that he was in love with Florence, he was intrigued and consumed enough to know that this could actually go somewhere.

The possibility was thrilling and terrifying.