# Duty To Protect

Beth Cornelison

A hero worth waiting for Crisis counsellor Ginny West confronted danger every day. But when a bomb blast trapped her in a burning building, she never thought she’d make it out alive. Just in time, Riley Sinclair rescued her.But the ruggedly sensual firefighter awoke a need that rocked her to her core. A love worth fighting for Riley had risked his life to save Ginny. And he’d do it again. Yet even as he swore to protect her, he couldn’t reveal his tragic secret.When a violent stalker comes after Ginny, Riley knows he has to share the truth about his painful past…or jeopardise their future together…

“Thank you for saving my life.”

A shadow flickered across his face, but he immediately schooled his features and forced a grin. “That again? You really are easily impressed. At least it got me a date with you.”

Riley winked, but Ginny detected an unease behind his flirtation. “You should feel proud of it. Saving any life is major. Big-time huge.”

He shook his head. “Look, I’m glad you’re OK. As for my part in it, I’m a firefighter, and I was just doing my job.”

She scowled playfully. “OK, I’ll let your mysterious reasons for your modesty slide…this time. But next time…”

He caught the finger she wagged at him and lowered it to the bed. The warmth of his hand curled intimately around hers knocked the teasing grin from her lips and stole her breath…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beth Cornelison started writing stories as a child when she penned a tale about the adventures of her cat, Ajax. A Georgia native, she received her bachelor’s degree in Public Relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for a little more than a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction.

Since that first time, Beth has written many more stories of adventure and romantic suspense and has won numerous honours for her work, including the coveted Golden Heart award for romantic suspense from Romance Writers of America. She is active on the board of directors for the North Louisiana Storytellers and Authors of Romance (NOLA STARS) and loves reading, travelling, Peanuts’ Snoopy and spending downtime with her family.

She writes from her home in Louisiana, where she lives with her husband, one son and two cats who think they are people. Beth loves to hear from her readers. You can write to her at PO Box 52505, Shreveport, LA 71135-2505, USA or visit her website at www.bethcornelison.com.

## Duty To Protect

BETH CORNELISON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my sisters, Martha and Lenna, for all the

years of love, laughter and support. You two are

the best! Thanks to my brother-in-law, Kyle

Beeson, corporal with the Athens/Clarke

County, Georgia Fire Department, for his

continued assistance with questions about

firefighting and rescue procedures. Any errors in

this regard are due to my own misunderstanding

or stretching the truth for storytelling purposes.

Our nation’s firefighters are real heroes!

Thanks for all you do!

Chapter 1

“He said he’d kill me if I left him. And he meant it.”

Her client’s assertion sent a prickle of ill ease skittering down Ginny West’s nape. Even hearing such statements on a disturbingly regular basis didn’t lessen the gut-twisting impact the words had on Ginny. The threat of such extreme violence had to be taken seriously, had to be dealt with quickly. Domestic violence by its nature was volatile and dangerous, and Annie Compton’s situation had just reached critical mass.

Ginny looked up from her notepad and leveled a firm but sympathetic gaze on the battered wife sitting across from her at the Lagniappe Women’s Center. Annie’s freckled face sported a fresh set of cuts and contusions courtesy of her jealous and controlling husband and his nasty temper.

Ginny cleared the tension from her throat. “You need to get out of that house, Annie. Take these threats seriously, and get yourself and your kids out of harm’s way.”

Annie shook her head, tears welling in her dark eyes. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? If I leave him, he’ll kill me! He’ll find me, and he’ll kill me. I know he will.” She swiped at her damp cheeks with the sleeve of her oversized sweater. “You shoulda seen him last night. He was so mad. And he hadn’t even been drinking. I told him what you said about him needing counseling, anger management.”

“You told him you talked to me?”

Annie nodded. “He’s always asking where I am and who I’m with. I had to tell him the truth. He checks up on me, and if I lie, it just makes him more jealous. Anyway, he said I had no business talking to you about private family business and that you should butt out. That’s when he swore he’d kill me dead if I tried to leave.” Annie closed her eyes and sighed. Her slumped shoulders were the image of defeat. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“You’re going to get free of him and his violence and make a fresh start. And I’m going to help you. I know it’s hard. But you are strong, Annie, and you can do this. You need to get yourself and your kids out of that house.”

“I can’t. I have nowhere to go. He’ll find me and—”

“Then you’ll go to the women’s shelter.” The springs in her wear-worn office couch creaked as Ginny leaned forward and laid her hand on Annie’s arm. “He won’t find you there. The location of our shelter is kept secret so that abusive husbands like Walt can’t find you. You’ll be safe, and you won’t be alone. We have people in place there to help you get a fresh start. I’ll check in on you, too. We can start working on getting a restraining order against Walt right now. Just say the word, and I can put things in motion.”

Ginny met Annie’s watery eyes and gave her an encouraging smile. “We’re going to get you through this, honey. I promise.”

“I’m scared,” Annie squeaked through her tears.

“I know. I understand.” Ginny’s heart squeezed. The pain in Annie’s eyes sliced her to the core. “What I’m asking you to do is scary. Change can be scary. But I’ll be here for you the whole way. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

No matter how many times Ginny guided a client through this process, the emotional toll never got easier. And she knew what she felt was a mere fraction of what the frightened women she helped were experiencing.

Ginny took Annie’s hands in hers. She rubbed the young woman’s icy, trembling fingers, hoping to infuse her with warmth and courage. “Should I call the shelter and tell them to expect you?”

Annie hesitated, then gave a small nod.

“And the restraining order?”

“No piece of paper will stop Walt.”

“But it is a legal tool for the police if he tries to bother you. It gives them grounds to arrest him and keep him away from you. Shall I get the paperwork started?”

Annie drew a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Ginny smiled and pulled Annie into her arms for a bear hug. “Good. I have a few calls to make. You can stay here if you want, or you can go across the hall to the playroom to sit with your children if you’d rather. I’ll let you know when the arrangements are finished.”

“I’ll go to the playroom. I need to be with my kids.” Annie backed out of the hug, and Ginny walked her to the door of her office.

After alerting the playroom attendant of the arrangements being made for Annie and her family, Ginny headed down the hall to the break room. Her stomach growled, reminding her she’d worked through lunch again. But until she knew Annie and her two young children were safe at the women’s shelter and the legalities of a restraining order put into motion, she wouldn’t stop for more than a cup of coffee. Stepping into the break room, she took her New Orleans Saints mug from the dish rack by the sink and gave the hours-old sludge in the coffeepot a considering glance.

Yuck.

With a grunt of disgust, she turned off the pot and returned her mug to the dish rack. Once Annie was safe, Ginny decided, she’d stop at her favorite deli on the way home for some real coffee and a hot muffuletta. Just the thought of one of the spicy, New Orleans-style deli sandwiches made Ginny’s mouth water.

After reclaiming her chair behind her utilitarian, charity-issue desk, she phoned the women’s shelter, informing them of Annie’s imminent arrival. Next she called her court liaison to start the ball rolling on the restraining order against Annie’s husband. When she was put on hold, Ginny picked up a pen and began doodling on her notepad. Rather than a distraction, doodling helped her focus, think. Some of her toughest problems had been analyzed and worked through while she scratched out hearts, flowers and strange geometric shapes.

After several minutes on hold, Ginny stood up to pace, the cordless phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. She opened her office door and peeked into the room across the hall, where Annie sat on the floor with her young daughter, building a block tower. Dust motes danced in the November sunlight that streamed through the front window, bathing the woman and little girl in a golden glow. The warm hominess of the picture they made stood in stark contrast to the purple bruises shading Annie’s jaw. The evidence of Walt Compton’s cruelty stirred a deep ache in Ginny’s bones. Annie had a hard road ahead of her, but at least she was on the right path now.

A click preceded the buzz of a dial tone in her ear, and Ginny sighed. Her connection had been cut. Shifting the phone to her hand, she punched Redial and tried again to get through to the court liaison.

Dropping into her desk chair, she glanced at her notepad and smiled when she saw what she’d unconsciously doodled: 4A.

As in apartment 4A.

Which was where her new neighbor, Mr. Tall, Blond and Oh-So-Handsome, lived.

Since she’d moved into the complex three weeks ago, Ginny hadn’t met many of her neighbors. But Mr. 4A she’d noticed. Along with his sunny smile and bare ring finger. He seemed to arrive home about the same time she left for work most mornings, and she’d finally asked him about his odd schedule a few days ago as they checked their respective mailboxes in the lobby.

“Must’ve been some party if you’re only getting home now.” She gave him a teasing grin and keyed open the tiny metal door to retrieve her daily junk mail.

Mr. 4A flashed his white grin and shook his head. “I wish I had a party to thank. Naw, I’m just getting off work.”

“Graveyard shift, huh?” Ginny pulled her crumpled electric bill from the cramped mailbox and cast a sideways glance at her gorgeous neighbor.

“Wrong again. I’m a firefighter. We work twenty-four on, forty-eight off. Shifts begin and end at 7:00 a.m.”

“Ah. A fireman. Gotcha.” Ginny watched as he flipped through his stack of mail. Last week, when she’d started this flirtation, she’d been sure to scrutinize his mailbox for clues about her neighbor. She hadn’t put her name on her box for safety reasons but hoped his mailbox would tell her something about 4A. Like a name. Or a telltale “Mr. and Mrs.” that would effectively put an end to their morning flirting.

But all his mailbox said was 4A.

She’d had plenty of opportunities to ask him his name and introduce herself, but she hadn’t. For now, she like the mystery and fun of knowing each other only by their respective apartment numbers.

“See ya ’round then,” he said with a friendly nod and smile as he walked away.

But that morning, Ginny wasn’t ready to let him get away quite so quickly.

“So tell me, 4A…”

He stopped, turned and cocked his handsome-as-sin blond head after she spoke.

She met his light gray eyes, and their piercing color and clarity stirred a flutter in her stomach. “How does one get the maintenance supervisor for our building to handle repairs? I’ve read over all the paperwork they gave me when I moved in, and I can’t find any number to call to reach the super. I’ve got a list of repairs my place needs that is growing daily.”

“One…” Grinning, he paused long enough to draw attention to his reciprocal use of her formal and generic pronoun. “…usually doesn’t get the super to do much of anything. The guy’s a bum. But he’s also the owner’s brother-in-law or something, so he’s got job security. It can take weeks to get something fixed. I usually do my own repairs.”

“Oh.” Ginny scowled. “Great. So I get to keep hand washing my dishes and bailing out my bathtub for a few more weeks, huh?” She huffed pale blond bangs from her eyes.

“I’ll tell you what, 3C.”

Hearing him address her by her apartment number and knowing he’d taken an equal interest in where she lived sent a giddy thrill spiraling through her, spiking her pulse.

4A took a step closer and propped a muscled shoulder on the lobby wall. “I’d be happy to stop by sometime and see what I can do to help. Plumbing isn’t my specialty, but I’ll give it a shot, if you want.”

She nodded slowly, flashing him a no-holds-barred, seductive grin. “Oh, yeah. I want…” You went unspoken, but not missed.

She watched his pupils dilate as desire darkened his eyes to the color of smoke. His kiss-me lips curved in a tantalizing grin. Pushing away from the wall, he backed down the corridor slowly. “All right then.” His voice was deeper, huskier now. Sexy. “I’ll catch up with you later, 3C.”

“Bye. And thanks,” she called, lingering to admire his broad shoulders and drool-worthy, jeans-clad butt as he strolled toward apartment 4A.

Now, sitting at her desk, still on hold with the courthouse while canned music droned through the phone, Ginny smiled again as she traced the doodle on her pad with her fingertip.

4A. Even thinking about him made her pulse go a little haywire. The man was gorgeous from the light brown stubble on his square jaw to his long, muscled legs. And every taut and toned inch in between.

Mm-mm-mmm.

The slam of a car door and a shout from outside her window pulled Ginny from her erotic daydreams. Her attention shifted to the street in front of the women’s center. An old model sedan was parked at the front curb, and a red-haired man in a business suit stood by the driver’s door yelling obscenities toward the entrance of the center. His dress shirt was half untucked, and his tie had been tugged loose and was askew at his throat.

The mere presence of the hostile man at the women’s center was enough to raise concern for Ginny. A chill of apprehension pricked at her spine. Cradling the phone on her shoulder, she opened her window a crack in order to hear all that the man was shouting and to better assess the threat he posed. The typically mild November air already carried the nip of coolness as evening approached and the sun began to sink.

The man leaned into the sedan and pulled out a six-pack of beer bottles in a cardboard carrier.

Great, the guy’s drinking.

Inebriated people were all the more unpredictable and rash. Ginny had seen enough. Rather than let the situation escalate and get out of hand, she mashed the switch hook—she’d try to reach the court liaison later—and dialed 911. While she talked to the emergency operator, explaining the situation and her concerns, she watched the man shred a T-shirt and poke a strip of cloth into the end of one of the beer bottles.

Puzzled, Ginny squinted for a better look at his odd behavior, just as the man flicked a lighter and lit the cloth on fire. Alarm bells clanged in her mind. Something was very wrong with this picture.

“He’s burning the strips of shirt, like they were a…”

Fuse.

The word filtered through her mind as, numbly, she watched the man hurl the bottle at the front window of the women’s center. She heard the crash of shattering glass.

Screams.

Boom.

The concussion of the firebomb wasn’t loud or especially powerful, but the horror of what was happening was enough to render her legs useless for a moment.

Knees wobbling, she gasped for a breath and panted into the phone, “Not beer! Gasoline. He has gas in the bottles! He’s throwing Molotov cocktails at us! Our building’s on fire!”

“Stay calm—”

The man took aim at Ginny’s office.

Quickly, she ducked and rolled under her desk, covering her head. The top pane of her window shattered, the beer bottle crashing against the opposite wall. A small fireball blasted her office. Heat seared Ginny’s arms and cheeks, but her desk protected her from the worst of the fire. The acrid scent of gasoline and smoke filled her lungs.

Covering her mouth and nose with the neckline of her blouse, Ginny scrambled out from under her desk. She assessed the damage, searched for an escape route.

Flames licked her office door, spread across the floor as the gasoline-soaked carpet was gobbled up by the fire.

She turned to the window. Shoving it open wider, Ginny gasped for fresh air. With her office door blocked by flames, she’d have to remove the screen that covered the lower half of the window, and climb out.

She glanced across the front lawn of the women’s center to the sedan. The crazy man, who had apparently launched all of his homemade firebombs, was climbing into his car.

Keeping a wary eye on the vehicle, Ginny fumbled with the latch on the screen. The rusty lever wouldn’t budge.

Her eyes watered from the heat and smoke. Her lungs seized, and she coughed. Gagged. Wheezed.

Still the latch stuck. Taking a step back, she kicked with all her strength.

The screen popped loose and hung drunkenly by one corner. Gripping it with both hands, she yanked the mesh out of her way.

As she scrambled to hoist herself up to the window ledge, a woman’s shout snagged Ginny’s attention.

Annie Compton ran out onto the lawn with her smallest child in her arms. Members of the center’s staff had also congregated on the front lawn, safe from the fire. Before Ginny could sigh in relief that the staff and her client seemed to be safe, Annie separated herself from the group and charged toward the departing sedan.

“How could you do this, Walt? You’re insane!”

“No, no!” Ginny whispered under her breath. “Don’t provoke him. Don’t—”

The sedan’s tires squealed as it whipped a U-turn, fishtailed, then roared back toward the women’s center.

“Annie!” Ginny screamed, her heart in her throat.

Walt Compton punched the gas and sped straight for his wife, who held their baby in her arms.

Ginny’s breath stuck in her throat. Time seemed to stretch, events passing in slow motion.

Walt drove over the curb, across the lawn.

Annie screamed. Jumped out of the car’s path. Almost.

The front fender clipped her, and she spun. Stumbled. Fell.

The momentum of Walt’s sedan kept the mammoth car rocketing forward. Toward the women’s center. Toward Ginny’s office window.

Panicked, Ginny reeled backward, tripping over her metal trash can. Staggering. Clambering to get out of the sedan’s path.

Walt’s car plowed through the front wall with an earsplitting crash. Wood splintered and metal tore with a screech. Broken glass sprayed the room.

The front wall of the women’s center caved inward under the vehicle’s assault. Tumbling drywall and splintered siding showered down on Ginny in a perilous, painful barrage. A tall filing cabinet tipped toward her. Amid the fallen rubble, she tried desperately to crab-crawl out of the way.

But couldn’t.

The heavy cabinet toppled onto her, crushing her arm.

Blinding pain streaked from her arm and radiated through her entire body. When she tried to suck in enough breath to cry for help, smoke clogged her lungs and made her cough.

She was pinned down. Bleeding. Terrified.

And trapped in the burning office.

Adrenaline kicking, Riley Sinclair pulled his face shield into place as he jumped from the pumper and wove through the chaos at the Lagniappe Women’s Center.

His buddy and fellow firefighter, Cal Walters, trotted up behind him. “Is that a car in the front wall?”

“Looks like. Dispatch said a guy was tossing Molotov cocktails through the windows. A pissed-off husband or something. I’d lay bets that’s his car, his coup de grâce.”

“Which means he could still be trapped in the car.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m on it.” Cal jogged toward the imbedded car. “We may have a man inside down here!” he shouted toward the guys on the line. “Give me a blanket of water!”

Riley headed over to where his captain stood talking to a frantic dark-haired woman.

“—is still inside!” Riley heard her shout as he approached.

His gut tightened. “Captain?”

Captain Shaw turned a grave expression toward Riley. “She says they haven’t found one of the counselors yet. She may still be inside.”

“That’s her office! Where the car hit!” The woman gestured wildly toward the wrecked sedan.

Despite the adrenaline charging through his blood, Riley’s heart slowed. His breath stalled in his lungs. He jerked his gaze toward the crumbled front wall.

Flames engulfed that section of the women’s center, fueled by the oxygen pouring through the car-created hole in the siding.

Chances were slim anyone could still be alive in that office.

But for Riley, a slim chance was good enough. His heart kicked, and his pulse thrummed.

He spun toward the frantic woman. “What’s her name?”

“Ginny. Ginny West. Oh, please, help her!”

Riley shoved his breathing apparatus over his nose.

Captain Shaw caught his arm, growling, “Sinclair, the building’s too involved. I can’t order anyone to go in.”

Riley nailed his boss with a stubborn glare. “Then I’m volunteering.”

The captain scowled. Sighed. Nodded.

Gritting his teeth, Riley hurried across the lawn, already adjusting the valve to start his flow of oxygen.

As he approached the smashed sedan, Cal was coming out, shaking his head. Cal turned toward Riley as he raced up. “There’s no one anywhere in or around the car. Whoever was driving is gone, vanished. He—”

“There’s still a woman inside!” Riley interrupted. “Get the imager. I’m going in.”

Cal muttered a curse as he charged toward the fire truck.

“I need a hose down here! Cover me!” Riley shouted to the men on the nozzle.

They aimed the hose’s spray toward the gaping hole in the wall. Riley picked his way over the pile of rubble and followed the veil of water inside. Dropping to his knees, he scanned the interior of the office, but thick black smoke obscured his view. “Ginny!” he shouted. “Ginny West!”

He listened for a reply, a groan, a whimper. Anything.

Only the roar and crackle of flames answered him.

Riley crawled forward, feeling his way, peering intently into the dense smoke. Only murky forms took shape.

Where the hell was Cal with that imaging camera?

“Ginny West!”

He found a desk and felt under it. Beside it. Nothing.

Shoving a toppled chair aside, Riley crawled deeper into the room. Flames danced around him, pushing him back. Only a tiny corner of the office hadn’t yet been swallowed by fire. A large rectangular object—a filing cabinet, perhaps— seemed all that blocked the inferno’s path.

“See her anywhere?” Cal called from behind him.

“Not yet.” Riley grabbed the thermal imaging camera Cal shoved toward him and scanned the unburned corner of the room. Designed to detect a person’s body heat when smoke was too thick for firefighters to see, the apparatus was often the only way to find persons trapped in a fire.

Riley studied the screen as he aimed the camera in methodical sweeps over the floor.

“Ginny West!” he shouted again. “Ginny, can you hear me?”

A blob of yellow and orange appeared on the screen. His adrenaline spiked. “I’ve got something!”

Cal crawled up beside him. “Is that a foot?”

Heart pumping, Riley nodded toward the downed file cabinet. “Someone’s behind there.”

Across the room a support beam collapsed from the ceiling amid a shower of sparks and flying embers.

“It’s getting hot in here.” Cal snatched the camera back. “Haul ass, partner.”

As Cal shouted for more water support to cover them, Riley scrambled ahead. He plowed his way over the crumbled debris toward the file cabinet where the camera had detected a source of heat. Body heat.

A shower of sooty water sprayed down around him, partially clearing the smoke, clearing his vision.

He circled the fallen cabinet, his heart in his throat.

Please God, don’t let me be too late.

Not again.

His young sister’s ashen face flashed in his mind, and bile surged up his throat. More snapshot memories followed, clicking in his brain like a slideshow. Children he’d been too late to help, old men who’d suffocated in their beds…and Erin, who’d survived, but not thanks to him.

Shoving the haunting images out of his mind, he felt along the floor to the edge of the cabinet.

And found a woman.

Chapter 2

Another curtain of water doused Riley. For a few seconds, the smoke cleared enough for him to assess the situation.

The woman’s arm was pinned by the file cabinet. And she wasn’t moving.

His gut tightened.

“Ginny? Ginny West?”

No response.

He pressed his hand to her throat, feeling her carotid artery for a pulse. A gentle throbbing met his fingers, and relief swelled in his chest.

“Cal, she’s alive, but she’s pinned down!” He shoved his shoulder into the file cabinet. It rocked—but not enough.

“Walters!”

Cal appeared through the smoke. “Right here.”

Another fire-weakened beam collapsed near them. Riley averted his face from the blast of heat and sparks. Glancing up, he found the beams overhead equally eaten by the fire. They could come down any second. He and Cal were working on borrowed time.

“She’s under here!” Riley plowed his shoulder into the cabinet again, and Cal pulled from the other side. This time the heavy unit toppled aside.

The woman’s arm, free now of the cabinet, was bent at an unnatural angle. Riley’s gut pitched.

“Help me get her up. Watch that arm!”

He climbed over her still form while Cal positioned himself to help lift her carefully over Riley’s shoulder.

After draping her limp form into place, being as gentle with the woman’s injured arm as time would allow, Riley headed out. “Let’s go!”

As they picked their way through the rubble, a loud creak rent the air above them.

“It’s coming down! Go! Go! Go!” Cal shouted.

Riley staggered out of the building, the woman over his shoulder and his partner on his heels, just before the roof collapsed. Flames ravaged the corner by the fallen cabinet.

Captain Shaw rushed toward them. “That was a little too close for comfort, Sinclair.”

Riley didn’t spare him so much as a glance. “But we got her out.”

Now a safe distance from the fire, he eased the woman onto the grassy lawn, protecting her head as he laid her down.

Dusk cast the outdoors in long purple shadows, and billowing smoke contributed to the dark haze.

Kneeling beside the woman, Riley ripped off his oxygen mask and helmet.

“I need help over here!” He waved toward the EMTs hovering by a waiting ambulance.

He confirmed she still had a thready pulse, then gently brushed the tangle of pale blond hair from her cheeks. Riley’s heart lurched.

He knew this pretty face.

The woman he’d just pulled from the fire was 3C.

And she wasn’t breathing.

Riley’s chest seized.

He battled down haunting images of his sister’s lifeless body, her bloodless lips and pale face. His nightmare had started with Jodi.

You failed her.

Grief and guilt tangled with an iron determination not to let 3C die on his watch. He’d been too late for so many others, but he’d be damned if he’d give up on 3C….

Tipping her head back, he pinched her nose closed and sealed his mouth over hers. He blew his breath into her lungs, willing her to take in air on her own.

Nothing.

Another puff of air.

He tasted the smoke that seeped up from her throat. And strawberry. She wore strawberry lip balm. The sweet fruity flavor stood in stark contrast to the dark, life-stealing smoke and the bitter taste of desperation that rose in his throat. A fresh twist of pain wrenched his chest.

He remembered her lips curved in an enticing smile as she flirted with him in the apartment lobby. Vibrant, alluring, alive.

He forcefully swallowed the bile, the fear rising inside him as he leaned his ear near her mouth, listening, feeling, watching for signs of life.

“C’mon, 3C. C’mon! Breathe, damn it!” he muttered through clenched teeth.

An EMT arrived and tried to shoulder him out of the way. “I’ll take over.”

Riley refused to budge. Instead, he bent to give her another puff of air. And another. He counted the interval between breaths with his heartbeat thudding in his ears. In his head, Riley knew only a few seconds had passed without 3C breathing on her own, but those seconds felt more like hours, years…sixteen years.

Sixteen years had passed since Jodi died.

Finally, 3C coughed, wheezed. Black smoke curled from her mouth before she dragged in a ragged breath on her own.

The relief that spun through Riley brought moisture to his eyes and left his hands shaking.

3C’s blue eyes fluttered open as she gasped for more air. Her gaze darted from one face hovering over her to another. Until it landed on Riley’s.

Her eyes zeroed in on his. Widened. Brightened.

Across from him, an EMT had an oxygen mask ready and slipped it into place over her nose and mouth.

But her gaze clung to Riley’s, recognition softening the panic and pain in her expression as she fought for each breath.

Again an EMT tried to shoulder Riley out of the way. He moved, letting the medic work, but he didn’t leave 3C’s side. He couldn’t. Something in her steady blue eyes reached out to him and held him fast.

When he stroked her sooty cheek, she lifted her uninjured arm and linked her trembling fingers with his. As with her gaze, he sensed in her touch a connection that went beyond the mere joining of hands.

Tears puddled in her eyes, kicking him in the gut and yanking a tighter knot in his chest.

He may have failed Jodi, failed Erin, failed nameless others, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t let this woman down.

Leaning closer, he whispered, “You’re going to be okay now, 3C. I’m gonna take care of you.”

The EMTs finished their preliminary exam, scooted a backboard under her and loaded her onto a stretcher. Through it all, Riley stayed beside her, squeezing her hand gently and giving her encouraging smiles.

As they rolled her toward the waiting ambulance, he trotted beside the gurney. He released her hand only when the medics slid her into the ambulance and her fingers slipped out of reach.

An EMT climbed inside and closed the back of the ambulance with a thud that reverberated in Riley’s heart, in his memory.

He closed his eyes and saw the door close on the coroner’s wagon that had carried Jodi away to the morgue.

And then it was he who couldn’t breathe for several moments. Raw emotions, unearthed by the near tragedy today, scraped through him, setting every nerve ending on fire.

“Hey, Sinclair,” Cal said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”

Riley gathered himself quickly, shoving down the emotions that left him so exposed and vulnerable. Buried them again.

“Yeah,” he rasped, then cleared his throat before continuing. “I’m fine. It’s just…I know her, and—” He blew out a deep breath. “That was too close. We almost lost her.”

Cal slapped him on the back. “Key word there is almost. You really came through for her, buddy. Good work.”

Riley acknowledged his friend with a nod, then headed toward the place on the lawn where he’d discarded his helmet.

He may have saved 3C today, but it wasn’t enough.

It was never enough. He had too many marks in his loss column.

Nothing would change the mistakes he’d made with Erin.

And, more importantly, he could never make up for having failed Jodi.

“The police said when they arrived at the scene yesterday, the man driving the car had already disappeared.” Ginny’s mother, Hannah West, sat forward in the hospital chair and stroked Ginny’s uninjured left arm. “They’ve been looking for him all day today, but no luck so far.”

Hannah had touched Ginny frequently throughout the day, as if repeatedly reassuring herself that her oldest of three children and only daughter was, in fact, alive, safe, healing.

“This Walt Compton fellow the newspaper mentions…if he was hurt when he crashed through the wall, his injuries apparently weren’t enough to keep him from running off before the cops arrived,” Megan Calhoun, Ginny’s best friend, said from a chair opposite Hannah.

So much for her client’s confidentiality. Thanks to the newspaper reporting the actions of Annie’s husband and mentioning the police’s top suspect by name, her mother and best friend already knew enough to fill in the blanks about the woman whose identity Ginny was duty-bound to keep confidential.

“Also says here that Walt Compton was dishonorably discharged from the service for assaulting an officer.” Megan glanced from the newspaper to Ginny. “History of letting his temper get the best of him.”

Ginny frowned but didn’t answer. Smoke inhalation left her throat painfully raw, her voice almost gone. But her throat and voice would heal, as would her broken right arm.

Right now, her main concern was for Annie. Twenty-four hours after the fire, Annie’s husband was still out there, still a threat, enraged enough to try to kill her and anyone else in his path.

“Is his wife…at…shelter?” Ginny whispered, despite the ache in her throat. She had to know her client was safe before she could rest and concentrate on her own recovery.

Hannah and Megan exchanged a glance.

“I don’t know. We were so worried about you that we didn’t ask,” her mother said.

Ginny sent Megan a querying glance that needed no verbalization.

Megan, who volunteered at the women’s shelter and knew the staff well, nodded. “I’ll find out and let you know. If she’s not, I’ll make sure someone from your office knows to get her there.”

Ginny released a sigh of relief and smiled her thanks.

Megan had recently been through an ordeal of her own, facing down a second attack by the man who’d raped her years before. Fortunately, Megan had stopped her attacker and gained a boatload of confidence and perspective in the process. She was well on her way to a new life, making a fresh start with her new husband, Jack, and Jack’s darling daughter.

Ginny’s thoughts turned to her own dependent—the furry kind—and caught her mother’s gaze. “Zach?”

Her mom nodded. “Don’t worry, hon. I’ll stop by your place on the way home to feed him.”

“Shot, too.”

“And I’ll give him his insulin. Your cat is in good hands. You just concentrate on healing,” Hannah said.

A soft knock sounded on the hospital room door, and Ginny looked up.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” said the gorgeous blond man standing outside in the hall. “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were doing all right.”

Ginny’s heart lifted, her pulse stumbling to a racing beat.

4A.

A wide smile tugged the corners of her mouth, and she waved him in. Hi, she mouthed.

From the corner of her eye, she caught her mother’s and Megan’s curious glances, but her gaze stayed locked on her handsome firefighter neighbor.

He stepped into the room, gave the other women a polite smile and set a small vase of flowers on the tray at the foot of her bed.

“I’m Riley Sinclair,” he said, shaking Megan’s hand then Hannah’s and nodding when they each introduced themselves.

Riley Sinclair. Ginny let the name roll through her mind, testing the feel of it. She smiled to herself, amused that this was how she’d finally learned his name—when he introduced himself to her mother.

“Riley’s the man…who saved my life,” Ginny rasped.

All eyes swung to her, then her mother and Megan both turned back to gawk again at Riley.

Hannah rose from her chair and pulled him into a bear hug. “Oh, Riley, thank you! Thank you for giving my baby girl back to me!”

He smiled awkwardly, appearing decidedly uncomfortable with the attention and accolades.

Megan caught Ginny’s eye and arched a brow. While Riley dealt with Hannah’s motherly gratitude, she mouthed, He’s hot!

Ginny nodded and grinned. Cutting a glance to her mom, she signaled for Megan to take Hannah and give her and Riley some privacy. With a thumbs-up, her friend grasped the older woman’s arm and headed for the door. “Mrs. West, why don’t we go see what we can find out about Annie for Gin? Maybe grab a bite at the snack bar?”

“Oh, sure… We’ll be back later, darling!” Hannah called as Megan tugged her out the door.

Ginny gave her mom a wave, then turned to 4A.

Riley.

His silver eyes were focused on her, and his mouth curled up in a sexy grin. “Hey, 3C. How’re you feeling?”

“Alive. Thanks to you.”

He ducked his head and shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

“Not from what…I hear.” She paused to swallow and take a breath. “You went beyond the call I hear. You resuscitated me.”

He shrugged this off as well, as if saving her life was a walk in the park. “Had to. I couldn’t very well ask you out to dinner if you died on me.” He flashed a devilish smile and moved to the chair Megan had vacated.

Ginny grinned. “If that’s an invitation, I accept…Riley.”

“Yeah, I guess it was. So…great. Once you spring this joint, we’ll compare calendars…Ginny.”

Her smile brightened. “You know my name.”

“Mm-hmm. Folks at the fire scene told me.”

An awkward silence fell between them, and Riley steepled his fingers, fidgeting. “So…you look good.”

Ginny sputtered a laugh. She touched the plastic tubing feeding oxygen into her nose. “Oh, sure. A nasal cannula…is so attractive.”

Riley leaned forward and wrapped his hand around her good one. His silver eyes held hers with a piercing intensity. “It is to me.”

Everything inside Ginny went still. Something in his expression spoke of a deeper concern than the relative attractiveness of hospital equipment. A memory teased the edges of her thoughts.

She recalled seeing that same piecing intensity when she’d come to at the fire yesterday. When she’d met his gaze, his pale gray eyes had brimmed with tears and swirled with emotion.

And something deeper.

Something that spoke to her soul.

In that instant, she’d known a spiritual connection with him. She’d known in a way she couldn’t explain that he was the one who’d saved her life, breathed life back into her lungs.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Just my humble opinion. Of course, it could be you making it look so sexy.”

She hitched up a corner of her mouth, acknowledging his compliment, but pushed on. “No. I mean…thank you for saving my life.”

A shadow flickered across his face, but he immediately schooled his features and forced a grin. “That again? You really are easily impressed. At least it got me a date with you, huh?” He winked, but she detected an unease behind his flirtation.

Ginny furrowed her brow. “Why does talking about it make you…uncomfortable?”

Riley blinked and sat back a bit, clearly caught off-guard by her question. He shrugged again. “I don’t know. It’s just not that big of a deal.”

Ginny scoffed in disagreement. “You saved a life! That’s huge!” She paused long enough to swallow and soothe the fire in her throat. “And not because…it was me. Saving any life is major. Big-time huge.”

She stopped only long enough to pull another breath into her aching lungs, then plowed on. The passion she felt for her argument overrode the effort it took to rasp it out. “You should be proud of it. Feel good about it. Hell, you’re even…allowed to gloat a little.” Ginny quirked a little smile. “Just don’t be obnoxious about it, you know?”

Riley shook his head, dismissal and disbelief etched in his expression. “Look, I’m glad you’re okay. That I feel good about. As for me, my part in it, I’m a firefighter, and I was just doing my job.”

Ginny opened her mouth to press the issue but snapped it closed again. This was her first opportunity to really talk to Riley. She didn’t want to spend the time arguing the merit of his heroics or making him feel uncomfortable. Although as a counselor, she found his reluctance to accept praise and thanks for his good deed intriguing.

She pointed at him with her left hand, narrowed her eyes and scowled playfully. “Okay, I’ll let your mysterious reasons for your modesty slide…this time. But next time…”

He caught the finger she wagged at him and lowered it to the bed. The warmth of his hand curled intimately around hers, knocked the teasing grin from her lips and stole her breath.

His work-roughened palm abraded her hand, made tender from heat damage equivalent to a sunburn. But she didn’t give her sore skin a second thought. Having Riley hold her hand felt ridiculously good. Such a simple thing, that touch. Yet a crackling energy and awareness snapped along her nerve endings.

He arched an eyebrow. “Next time? Let’s hope there is no next time. One near-death experience for you is enough!”

“Touché,” she croaked, glad the crack in her voice could be excused as the result of smoke inhalation.

“So…have the doctors said when you can go home?”

“Tomorrow, if my vitals remain good.” She noted that, although the topic had changed, he still held her hand. Warmth blossomed in her chest, put a grin on her lips.

Maybe, like her mom’s constant touching, Riley’s grip on her hand was a hint that he wasn’t as unaffected by her close call or his part in saving her life as he wanted her to think. Ginny knew through her training, her experience with counseling, that body language spoke volumes.

“I’ll be off tomorrow. I can come get you. Drive you home.”

Ginny tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s nice of you to offer, but…not necessary. My mom or Megan can—”

“I don’t mind. I want to help.” Riley’s eyes held the same bright intensity she’d noticed earlier. His silver gaze held her transfixed for a moment before he seemed to realize how serious he’d become and laughed it off with a shrug. “Besides, you live in my building, so it’s hardly out of the way. What are neighbors for?”

“Okay. Tell you what…you can be my buffer.”

“Buffer?”

“Yeah. My mom is going to want to be here regardless, ’cause she lives to dote on her kids. Borderline smothering. I love Mom, but…hate the smothering. You can be my buffer, run interference.”

Riley turned one palm up. “If that’s what you need, I aim to please.” He gave her fingers another gentle squeeze before he pulled away and rose from the chair. “I think I should let you rest. I’m glad you’re okay, Ginny.”

“And I’m glad you were on duty last night. Getting mouth-to-mouth from anyone else…” She gave him a sultry smile. “…just wouldn’t have been half as much fun.”

A smoldering heat flared in Riley’s gaze. He hesitated a moment, as if deciding whether to match her flirtation with a suggestive comment of his own.

“Go ahead. Say it,” she prompted.

He looked a bit surprised that she’d read his intent so easily, then grinned more broadly. “I think I’d rather show you.” He tapped her nose with his finger. “But later. You get well, and then we’ll have some real fun.”

With a small wave, he sauntered out to the corridor, leaving Ginny with another breathtaking view of his jeans-clad backside and ample fodder for her imagination.

Compunction twisted in her chest, and she sighed. Had she gone too far? Had she misled Riley about her intentions? Maybe.

She’d mastered the art of flirtation over the years. But though she’d like to believe someday she and Riley might follow up on their banter, in truth, she was a long way from having an intimate relationship with him. Intimacy took time, took trust, took a whole lot of work. This time she had to look before she leaped. She had to be sure.

The real question was, was she ready to put in the work for a shot at something deeper with Riley Sinclair?

And was he ready to put in the effort to have a relationship with her?

His body thrumming, Riley strode toward the hospital elevator and indulged in a mental picture of himself having a steamy variety of fun with his seductress neighbor.

Get a grip. Save the X-rated fantasies for a while. The woman just had a brush with death.

A brush with death.

A chill skimmed down Riley’s spine as he jabbed the elevator button. He hadn’t realized until he saw Ginny again today how deeply her near miss still affected him. If he’d thought he’d put the surge of memories and emotion to bed yesterday at the fire scene, he’d been wrong. What’s worse, his emotions were so close to the surface that Ginny had picked up on his edginess.

And why wouldn’t she? She was a counselor. Her job was all about reading people and dealing with emotions.

The knot in Riley’s gut cinched a bit tighter. Before he came back tomorrow to take Ginny home from the hospital, he definitely had to get some perspective, lock those memories of his failure with Jodi away where they’d be safe.

But he also couldn’t repeat the mistakes he’d made with Erin.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the internal push-pull of responsibilities battled inside him.

He stepped on the elevator and drew a deep breath. Reining in his emotions should be easy enough. The crisis had passed. And he felt better about Ginny after seeing her.

She had color back in her cheeks. The soot and grime had been washed from her pale blond hair, and the spark of humor and vitality had returned to her sky-blue eyes.

He’d meant it when he said she looked good. Except for a few scratches and the cast on her arm, she looked every bit the sultry siren who’d spent the last several weeks tempting him with come-hither glances and witty flirtation.

Which brought him back to the X-rated fantasy images….

Whew!

Riley dragged a hand over his jaw. He figured he and 3C could have a whole lot of steamy fun together…if he could keep the raw memories of Jodi’s death in the back recesses of his mind where they belonged. Where he could manage them. Where Ginny couldn’t find them.

After Riley left, Ginny closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. Though his surprise visit had lifted her spirits, all her talking and the effort to hide her physical discomfort left her exhausted.

In her mind, she replayed their conversation, every glance and each touch. She analyzed the visit with fresh perspective, looking for red flags she may have missed. This time she wouldn’t be fooled, wouldn’t be so blind. A dull pang settled in her chest for her previous naïveté with men.

She must have dozed off shortly after that, because the next time she opened her eyes, her room was much darker, the sky outside her window was tinged with the shadows of twilight.

The scuff of feet beside her bed alerted her to someone’s presence.

She turned her head, expecting to find her mother.

Instead, a hand clamped tightly over her nose and mouth.

Panic surged up in her throat.

She blinked hard, trying to focus in the darkness on her attacker.

Red hair. Pale face. Dark eyes.

Walt Compton.

“Where is she?” he growled. The sour scent of liquor tainted his breath.

Ginny clawed with her left hand at Walt’s fingers. Even if he hadn’t had his palm clamped over her mouth, her voice was too hoarse to scream for help.

“You told her to leave me. I know it was you! Now where did you hide her?” His fingers dug deeper into her cheeks.

Ginny gave up trying to pry Walt’s iron grip from her mouth and fumbled in the covers for the nurse call button. But her frantic groping sent the cord slithering to the floor. Ginny’s heart sank.

With her emergency call button out of reach and her voice too weak to yell for help…

“Annie would have never left me if not for you! Now tell me where she is, or I’ll—”

“Time to check your blood pressure, Ms. W—”

As the nurse breezed into the room, Annie’s husband whirled around, releasing Ginny. He shoved the nurse out of his way as he raced out the doorway and down the hospital corridor.

“What the—? Who was that?” The stunned woman caught her balance and pressed a hand to her chest.

Ginny gasped for air, despite the oxygen tubes at her nose. Fear compressed her lungs. Chills skittered over her skin. “Call security! Stop him!”

The nurse darted out, yelling to someone in the hall. “Get security! Which way did he go?”

Ginny sucked in a few more calming breaths. The scent of stale liquor hung in the air. Annie had said her husband became more violent when he drank. A common enough problem in the troublesome world of domestic disputes.

Ginny shuddered and sent up a prayer, hoping that Annie and her children were safe at the women’s shelter. She realized, too, that she’d never gotten in touch with the court liaison to get a restraining order arranged for Annie against her husband.

She groped left-handed for the bedside phone and used her thumb to dial the courthouse. As she waited for someone to answer, she mentally replayed the desperate husband’s attack, a fresh jolt of adrenaline sending shock waves through her.

The man was dangerous, desperate, unpredictable. And if he’d come after her once, he could easily do so again.

Ginny swallowed the dark taste of dread.

The man had tried to kill her, had tried to kill Annie, and had torched the women’s center. The police were already looking for Walt Compton. They had plenty of reason to arrest and hold him when he was found. A restraining order was a moot point.

Ginny pressed the hook and put the phone down.

The best thing she could do until Walt was captured was protect her client, protect herself. And pray the authorities found Annie’s husband. Soon.

Chapter 3

“Mom, I’ll be fine. Stop worrying!” Riley heard Ginny say just as he reached her hospital room the next morning.

He stopped at the door, surveyed the scene and was immediately reminded of the role she had asked him to play today. Buffer.

Ginny sat in a wheelchair, dressed in street clothes, ready to go home, while her mother literally hovered over her. Hannah draped a thin blanket around Ginny’s shoulders, which Ginny quickly shrugged off.

“Mom, it’s seventy-five degrees outside. I don’t need to be swaddled up like a newborn.” Ginny had recovered most of her voice, but it still held a faint rasp.

Hannah sighed. “It’s a mother’s job to worry. And I’d just feel better if you had another layer of protection from this guy. Can’t the police station a guard at your door or something?”

Ginny groaned. “I don’t need a guard. I—”

Riley rapped lightly on the door.

When Ginny spotted him standing at the door, a smile lit her face. Then, as if inspiration had just struck, she turned to her mother and waved a hand toward him. “I…have Riley just down the hall. If there’s trouble, I can call him. Right, Riley?”

Was it wrong that he found the smoke-induced huskiness of her voice sexy as hell? Probably. But when he got around 3C, she scrambled his thoughts and turned everything topsy-turvy for him.

Riley shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and sucked in a deep breath to tamp down his runaway libido. He’d learned yesterday how easily Ginny could pick up on his moods and read his thoughts. He had to do a better job of staying in control of his reactions when he was around her.

“Riley?” Ginny prompted when he didn’t answer her after several seconds.

“Um…sure. Whatever you need.” He wasn’t certain what sort of conversation he’d interrupted, but he could answer Ginny’s question easily enough. He’d do anything humanly possible to make sure she was safe.

His answer put a smug, case-closed grin on Ginny’s face. Mrs. West seemed somewhat mollified, if not entirely convinced. “I just don’t think you should be alone until that man is caught. If you won’t let me stay with you, what about Megan?”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Mom.”

“I know that. But after what happened last night…” Hannah’s hand fluttered to her lips as she paused, inhaling sharply. “I’m just scared he might try to hurt you again.”

Riley jerked his eyebrows together, frowning. “Whoa. Back up. What happened last night?”

Hannah and Ginny spoke at the same time.

“Nothing.”

“That man—”

Ginny cut a sharp silencing glance at her mother, but Hannah persisted. “The man who drove his car into Ginny’s office…the husband of her client…he showed up here last night. He tried to kill Ginny!”

Riley tensed, a punch of horror slamming into his gut. Icy chills prickled his skin. “He came here?” After he’d left. He’d left Ginny alone and—

“Mom…”

“Yes,” Hannah declared. “And if the night duty nurse hadn’t come in when she did—”

“Mom! I’m fine. The police are looking for him. The officer said they’ve got an APB out for him, and they promised to keep a watch on my apartment complex. A private guard is overkill.”

Riley wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans. “Who is this guy, and why is he trying to hurt you?”

God, he hoped Ginny didn’t hear the anxiety he heard in his own voice.

“His name is Walt Compton. His wife came to our office because he’d been abusing her and had threatened to kill her.”

Riley clenched his teeth. A domestic dispute. He’d been called to the scene of enough domestic disputes to know how volatile those situations could be.

“We’ve given his wife and kids refuge at the women’s shelter. She’d told him I was her counselor, so Walt came after me to find out where she was. He blames me for convincing her to leave the brutality of their marriage.”

Riley balled his hands into fists, wishing he could ram his knuckles down Walt Compton’s throat. The guy was scum. Being a wife beater was bad enough. But this guy had threatened Ginny, and that made it feel personal to Riley. He didn’t stop to analyze why he felt so protective of his neighbor. Not while her sky-blue eyes were watching him as closely as they were now.

“I have to say…” He paused and cleared his throat. “I’m with your mom on this. The cops should post someone in the lobby of our apartment building. And until he’s found, you should have someone stay with you.”

Ginny’s eyes widened, betrayal and disbelief flashing across her face. “Not you, too!”

Riley sighed. “If this guy is half as unstable as I think—and the fact that he drove his car through the wall of your office suggests he is—you shouldn’t be alone. He’s dangerous.”

Ginny pressed her hands together in her lap and schooled her features. In a calm, let’s-be-reasonable voice, she said, “This is a work issue. It’s my job to handle it. I’ve alerted the authorities, and they are doing everything they can to find him. They offered to post a guard outside our building, and I turned them down.”

Ginny’s mother huffed in disbelief. “Why?”

“I’d much rather they use their resources protecting Annie and the other ladies at the women’s shel—” Ginny gasped, winced, then shook her head. “Whoops. Well, now you know her name. Not that you couldn’t figure it out if you’d wanted to, thanks to the paper reporting her husband’s name.” She rubbed her forehead. “Anyway…the police can monitor the apartments well enough from the parking lot or street. I’m sure the police will have Walt in custody shortly.”

“And if they don’t?” Hannah asked, tipping her head.

Ginny sighed and sent Riley a you-were-supposed-to-be-on-my-side scowl.

“Mom, I—”

Buffer.

“What if,” he interrupted, “I volunteered to stay with you.”

Hannah arched an eyebrow in disapproval.

“On the couch,” he added quickly, to appease her.

Again Ginny and her mother spoke over each other.

“You don’t have to—”

“On the couch,” Hannah reiterated, then turned from Riley to address her daughter. “I like that idea. It’s a good compromise.”

“That’s no compromise. I’m being railroaded! I never agreed to having anyone—”

Hannah headed for the door and touched Riley’s arm as she left. “Talk to her. I’ll go see what’s keeping the doctor with those discharge papers.”

Ginny waved a hand toward the door where her mother had breezed out. “Do you see why I need a buffer? She’d run my life completely if I let her.”

Riley gave her a lopsided grin. “She means well.”

“And you!” Ginny aimed a finger at him, her expression in what-were-you-thinking mode. “You were supposed to be helping me, not taking her side!”

He raised both hands in surrender. “In my defense, I did manage to get her to back off the idea of camping out at your place. That would kinda have put a damper on my plans for a quiet dinner for two tonight.”

Ginny cocked her head and curled her lips in the sultry smile that always made his blood flash hot. “Dinner for two? Intriguing. Do tell.”

He ran a hand over his short-cropped hair. “Well, Ming Wa delivers, if you like Chinese. I could bring wine, and we could finally get a chance to get to know each other. You know, talk or watch a movie…whatever.”

“And then you would camp out on my couch.” Ginny lifted one eyebrow in a way that mirrored her mother.

He stepped over to the wheelchair and crouched, putting himself at eye level with her. Close enough to smell the hint of baby powder he’d come to recognize as her scent. Only 3C could make baby powder a turn-on for him.

“Yeah. I kinda promised your mother. And I do think you need someone staying with you. At least for a while.”

At least until he was sure she was safe. He refused to repeat his mistakes with Erin. His gut cramped, remembering.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“But…I don’t have to stay on the couch alone.” He gave her a devilish grin and waggled his eyebrow. “I didn’t promise your mom anything in that regard.”

Ginny chuckled. “A master of semantics. That skill can come in handy with my family.” Heat darkened her eyes. “And this whole camping out thing is sounding better all the time. I’m not so much against you staying over as I am opposed to having my life dictated to me.”

Riley put on an innocent face. “I would never presume to dictate.”

Hannah bustled back into the room with a nurse on her heels. “Here we go.”

“Just sign these release forms, and you are free to go.” The nurse handed Ginny a clipboard with several papers attached.

After she awkwardly scratched her name on the forms with her left hand and handed them back to the nurse, Ginny gave the wheelchair a one-handed slap. “All righty then. Let’s bust this joint.”

Riley fell in behind her and steered the wheelchair toward the elevator. As he reached past her to mash the down button, he leaned into the sweet, baby powder scent at her neck and murmured, “As a bonus, while I’m at your place tonight, I could work on fixing your plumbing problems if you want.”

Ginny tilted her head to glance at him, putting her tempting mouth a breath away from his. “Would this be babysitting cleverly disguised as maintenance assistance?”

He smiled. “Not at all. I’m totally clear on your feelings regarding babysitting. This is seduction disguised as maintenance assistance, pure and simple.”

Her face lit with a humored grin for a moment, but then her eyebrows tugged together, and her smile faltered. “I hope you don’t think I’m the kind of girl who’ll sleep with a guy just because he fixed my dishwasher. I’m not that easy.”

He grunted, twisting his lips in a wry grin. “Believe me, with you, easy never crossed my mind.”

Ginny’s eyes twinkled. “Then by all means, grab your tools and come on over.”

* * *

Before Riley could make it around to the passenger side of his truck, Ginny had popped the door open and was struggling to climb out. She slid down from the high seat to the asphalt of the apartment’s parking lot, and her knees buckled weakly.

“Hey, take it easy.” He was there in a flash, his arm around her, supporting her. He narrowed his gray eyes on her, an adorable wrinkle of worry creasing the bridge of his nose. “There’s a reason the hospital discharges patients in a wheelchair, Ginny. Your body’s still healing. Go slow. Lean on me.”

As she opened her mouth to protest, he hooked her left arm around his neck, pulled her up against his taut, muscled frame and anchored his arm at her waist. All thoughts of arguing fled.

Riley, under normal circumstances, could make Ginny’s breath catch, her body hum. Riley, up close and personal, sent her body into overdrive. Her heart thrummed. Her head swam. Her skin tingled.

Being cautious about moving the relationship too fast didn’t mean she was immune to Riley’s…er, charms. Even if she could have walked in by herself, she would have faked an injury at that moment just to be held so close to his solid strength. She inhaled the spice of his aftershave, and a heady thrill swirled from her nape to her toes.

But even as she savored the sweet sensations Riley inspired, her head told her to go slow with him. His heroism on her behalf could easily be clouding her painkiller-muddled perception.

And, Lord knew, her history of misjudging men spoke for itself. Painfully so. Her own dating track record aside, she could never forget the heartache her poor judgment with men had caused her college roommate, Donna. A deep ache sliced through Ginny, lessening the headiness she felt from Riley’s proximity.

Thoughts of Donna nagging her, Ginny studied Riley’s rough-hewn features again. Sure, he was handsome as sin, thoughtful, brave….

But other men she’d dated had been handsome, polite, and had seemed charming—until she discovered there was a wife waiting at home or that the charm was an act to get her into bed.

Not that in bed wasn’t where she hoped to end up with Riley…eventually. But first, she had to be sure he was as good as his first impression purported. She had a heck of a lot still to learn about this man before she’d let herself believe he was all he seemed.

The expression “too good to be true” rang in her head. What was the real Riley like?

“Ginny? You okay?”

She realized she was staring at him like a schoolgirl and shook herself. “Yeah. Thanks. Thought I could do it alone, but my knees thought otherwise.”

“Listen, soon enough things will be back to the status quo. For now, you need to listen to your body. Don’t tax yourself, okay?”

As Riley guided her, taking baby steps toward the door, she itched to move at a faster pace, take the lead and steer him along a different course. Perhaps a route that afforded her a few extra minutes of snuggling close to his sturdy body?

Instead she gave him an apologetic grin. “Sorry, I don’t do pampering well. My mom says my favorite phrase from the time I could talk was ‘Do it myself!’ That’s never changed. I need my independence.”

“Nothing wrong with that…as long as it’s practical. Besides, every now and then everyone deserves a little TLC.” Riley slowed further as they reached a short flight of steps leading to the apartment entrance. “Consider this your turn.”

“I really don’t need help. Dealing with this—” She held up her casted right arm. “—will be tricky at first, but I’m up to the challenge.”

To prove her point, she pulled away from his grasp and trudged up the steps at a quicker pace. The show of defiance left her a tad winded and more than a little dizzy. Apparently yesterday’s brief oxygen deprivation had taken a bigger toll on her than she’d thought.

When she hesitated at the top of the steps, Riley stepped back into place beside her. She covered her effort to regain her equilibrium with a bright smile and by sliding an arm around his waist as if giving him a flirtatious hug.

The lift of his blond eyebrow said he wasn’t fooled.

He braced a hand under her left elbow and drew her up against him again. “Need a minute to catch your breath?”

She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “Maybe. But your holding me like this is not going to help. Being this close to you seems to leave me breathless.”

He hitched up the corner of his mouth in a provocative grin. “The feeling is mutual, gorgeous.”

Ginny shook herself from her starry-eyed daze and leaned more weight against the railing.

Slow down!

“You know, as a counselor, I spend a lot of time talking with clients, helping them decide a plan of action, ways to change their life. But all our talk is no good if they don’t suit words to action, if they don’t follow through.”

“The whole ‘actions speak louder than words’ thing?”

She shrugged. “Something like that. So it’s a matter of professional pride that I do things for myself. I have an example to set, you know?”

With a steadying breath, she pulled away from him again to head for the door.

“An example. Right.” But he sounded unconvinced as he drew her back up against him. “Speaking of actions, I’ve been bummed about something since yesterday, when I visited you in the hospital.”

Her brow knitted in confusion. “Bummed?”

“Yeah, bummed! When I revived you, you missed the whole your-lips-on-mine thing. I figure all this flirting is really just going over points we’ve already established. We know there’s a definite sizzle between us.”

She gave him a suspicious nod. “Yeah?”

“And rather than keep wondering what a real kiss would be like…”

Ginny saw his intent in his smoky gaze, and her breath caught. “Riley, maybe we should wait until—”

She never got the chance to finish her thought.

He swooped in and captured her lips. With gentle pressure, he molded her mouth to his, then swept his tongue inside to tangle with hers. He tasted like cinnamon, hot and sweet, and when her head swam dizzily this time, she knew it had nothing to do with the lingering effects of oxygen deprivation.

Riley cradled the back of her head with one large hand and pulled her hips closer to his with his other. The intimate contact of their bodies made her womb tighten and weep with longing.

Ginny savored the ebb and flow of his kiss, giving back every bit of the passion and heat he showed her, even as her brain screamed for her to take it slow. She had a lot to learn about Riley before she could risk getting more involved with him.

With a soft brush of his thumb along her cheek, he pulled away and grinned unrepentantly. “That is called follow through.”

Ginny sighed contentedly. “I do love a man of action.”

As Riley swept a flyaway wisp of her hair back from her eyes, a flash of color and movement snagged Ginny’s attention.

She cut her gaze toward the distraction. A police car cruised slowly through the parking lot. The cop’s presence reminded her why Riley was with her, why the extra patrols were needed.

She’d been attacked last night. She could have died.

A shudder shimmied through her, and she backed away from Riley’s arms.

“Ginny?” He narrowed a concerned gaze on her.

She nodded toward the parking lot. “We have company.”

“What?” Riley turned and looked out over the cars. When he spotted the cruiser, he gave the officer a little wave. “Why don’t we get you inside now, where we can have a little privacy?”

“Privacy? You forget…my mom is on her way. She has to see for herself that I’ve gotten home safely and have locked my door.”

“You’re lucky to have a mother who cares so much.” A spark lit Riley’s gray eyes as he tucked her into his embrace.

“I guess. So does your mom make a big fuss over you, too, worrying and nagging?”

The light in Riley’s eyes faded as he helped her up the steps to her third floor apartment. Though he forced a grin, Ginny noticed the change in his demeanor, felt his muscles tense.

“Yeah, my mom worries…but I…don’t see her much.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated. “She lives out by Lagniappe Lake.”

“The lake is only about thirty minutes outside town.” At her door, Ginny fumbled in her purse with her left hand, searching for her keys.

He shrugged and shifted his weight. “We, uh…just get busy. Time passes. I’ll see her at Thanksgiving.” He extended a hand toward Ginny’s purse. “Need help?”

She sent him a pointed look and smiled. “No, thank you. I’ve got it.” She dangled the keys from her left hand to prove her point, then jabbed at the keyhole.

And missed. But her poor aim was more a factor of the scrapes and small gouges beside her doorknob than left-handed awkwardness. The damage to her door was new. And distinctive.

Someone had been trying to break into her apartment. And she’d bet a week’s pay that someone had red hair and a history of spousal abuse. Walt Compton had been here. Could still be here.

Which begged the question, what if Riley hadn’t been with her?

Ginny shuddered. Maybe having him stay in her apartment was a good idea after all….

Chapter 4

While Riley returned to the parking lot to report her damaged door to the policeman on guard duty, Ginny started putting away the few toiletries she’d brought home from the hospital. Having her right arm in a cast was going to be a royal pain, especially if she wanted to prove to others she didn’t need a babysitter. She’d managed alone for too long to start depending on anyone else now.

Her orange and white, diabetic tabby, Zachary, hopped up on the bathroom counter and rubbed against her arm in greeting. “Hey, fella. How’s my boy? Did anyone remember to feed you and give you a shot this morning?”

Zach meowed and pawed at the faucet. When Ginny turned on the cool water, the cat ducked his head and started lapping at the trickle.

“Spoiled.” Smiling, Ginny stroked her cat’s back, but despite the familiar routine, her heart still raced from the shock of finding someone had tampered with her door. She took a few deep breaths and mentally reviewed the advice she gave her clients.

Fear is a tool used to control you. Take back control of your situation. Stay calm so you can think clearly.

Ginny blew her bangs out of her eyes. She had a new appreciation for the stress her clients dealt with.

Time to practice what she preached.

Your strength and healing will come from within yourself, not by looking to others.

A sharp rap sounded on her front door, and Ginny’s adrenaline spiked. Clapping a hand over her scampering heart, she hurried to the living room. “Riley?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Ginny unhooked the chain guard and dead bolt, then looked through the peephole, just in case, before she opened her door.

“So what did the officer say?” she asked him as he strode into her living room, his rough-hewn masculinity in stark contrast to the feminine decor of her apartment.

“He’s calling it in, getting a crime scene team to come out. He’s checking the grounds now, but he’ll be here in a minute to take your statement.”

“Another statement.” She sighed and dropped onto her gingham-covered couch. “I don’t know what else I could possibly tell them. My shoe size, maybe?”

Riley gave her a sympathetic grin and shrugged.

She took a cleansing breath. “Look, I was just about to fix some lunch,” she lied. The idea of food turned her stomach, but making lunch would give her something to do, might serve as a distraction from her fruitless worrying. “Do you want a sandwich?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’ll help.”

But as she headed toward her kitchen, her doorbell heralded the arrival of the officer from the parking lot and the crime scene crew. For the next ninety minutes, she was busy repeating everything that had happened over the past thirty-six hours. She cringed as the technicians dusted for prints, and a fine coating of the powder settled on her carpet, her furniture. She’d be forever cleaning the reminder of the would-be intruder out of her apartment.

Through it all, she was hyperaware of Riley’s presence. He stood back, giving the investigators room to work, but his imposing height and wide shoulders were always in the periphery of her vision, in her thoughts. His presence filled her with a reassurance she couldn’t explain. Maybe because he’d already saved her life once.

As the officer finished his questions, Riley sat next to Ginny on the couch and took her left hand in his, squeezing her fingers gently. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just tired.” She lifted her eyes to meet his, and a corner of his sexy mouth tipped up.

When I revived you, you missed the whole your-lips-on-mine thing.

Two hours earlier, she’d kissed those lips, been swept away by their hypnotic lure. The memory sent a renewed shimmy of heat curling through her veins, chasing out a fraction of the chill that lingered, given that Walt Compton was most likely the person who’d tried to break into her apartment.

But physical chemistry was no substitute for knowing what made a man tick, knowing who he was beneath the stunning smile and wide chest. Although having Riley near was comforting, Ginny reminded herself that his presence was temporary, and she needed to rely on her own strengths and coping mechanisms after today. She had to get back to her normal routine, back to work. People were counting on her.

“I need to check on Annie,” she thought aloud. “If Walt has been this determined to come after me, what has he done about finding her? She’s in more danger than I am.”

“You just got home from the hospital.” Riley frowned. “You’ve had problems of your own to deal with. I’m sure the other ladies that work at the women’s center have taken good care of Annie. Right now, you need to rest.”

“The other women from the center have their hands full relocating our offices after the fire and dealing with their own clients’ needs.” Ginny pushed herself off the sofa and scanned the living room, looking for her cordless phone. “Annie is my responsibility, no matter who picked up my slack after the fire. I won’t be able to rest until I know she and her kids are safe.”

Spotting the receiver on the side table by her reading chair, Ginny stepped over Riley’s long legs to get the phone. While she talked to one of the women from her office, confirming that Annie and her kids were doing well at the shelter, she overheard Riley thanking the policemen for their help and reminding them to keep a vigilant watch on the apartment.

Ginny would much rather the police focused their efforts on watching the women’s shelter and tracking down Walt than on guarding her door.

By the time she got off the phone, Riley had made them each a sandwich and had brought hers out to the coffee table on a paper plate. Motioning her back to the couch, he said, “Get off your feet. You need to rest.”

When another knock reverberated through the room, she headed for her door, only to be sidetracked by Riley.

“I’ll get it. You sit. Eat something.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

Riley opened the door and sent Ginny a wry grin. Speaking of whom… he mouthed.

“Why are there so many police cars outside? What happened?” Hannah rushed into the living room, and Ginny suppressed a sigh.

“Standard procedure and basic questions, Mom. Nothing to worry about.”

Riley stepped forward and motioned to Hannah. “Actually, Mrs. West, Ginny was just about to take a nap. Why don’t we leave her alone to rest? If you want to assist me, I was just about to help Ginny with some maintenance repairs.”

Her mother divided a glance between Ginny and Riley. “You’re sure you’re all right? Can I do anything for you?”

Ginny smiled. “Go home, and quit worrying. I’ll call if I need you.”

“Promise?”

“Mom—”

Hannah raised her hands. “Okay. I can take a hint.” She walked back to the door and aimed a finger at Riley. “Take care of my girl.”

He nodded. “You bet.”

With her home now emptied of policemen and overprotective parents, Ginny felt the tension seep from her. She wilted like a deflated balloon against the sofa cushions.

“You got a wrench?” Riley asked.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“While you unwind a little, I thought I’d tinker with your sink…or was it your dishwasher that was on the fritz?”

She lifted the corner of her mouth in a weary grin. “The dishwasher doesn’t drain. Floods the floor when I run it.” She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of the past two days’ events crushing down on her. “If I have a wrench, it’ll be in the utility closet at the end of the hall.”

Flopping over on her side, she tucked a throw pillow under her cheek and worked to find a comfortable position for her injured arm.

“Holler if you need anything.” Riley leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

Ginny was too worn out to respond, too tired to question why Riley’s chaste kiss caused a knee-jerk, uneasy stir in her gut. She’d analyze that incongruity later.

Riley found and cleared the clog in Ginny’s dishwasher without much trouble. Putting the contraption back together and getting it operational again was another matter. A little over an hour after he started the repair, he was washing up and returning the tools he’d found in her closet to their rightful place.

He’d heard suspiciously little from the living room since he left Ginny on the sofa to rest, and when he rounded the couch looking for her, he learned why. She was sacked out. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Bad analogy, Riley thought as a little shudder crept up his spine. He still had an all too clear mental image of her limp and nearly lifeless body lying in the burning office.

Even now the blue-black shadows that marred her pale skin served as a jarring reminder of her ordeal. The thick cast on her arm stood in stark contrast to Ginny’s petite frame. Her fat, orange and white cat had curled up beside her and slept nestled against her chest much like a child’s teddy bear.

Vulnerable came to mind as he studied her sleeping. She’d hate to be called that. That much he already knew about his seductive neighbor. She had spirit and determination and attitude in spades. And though she seemed hell-bent on doing everything for herself, never letting anyone see a hint of weakness, he still sensed something when he was around her that made him long to shield and protect her.

Or maybe it was his own ghosts rattling their chains that made him so desperate to keep Ginny safe.

He sat down on the edge of the coffee table and indulged in a closer inspection of her delicate features. Freckles paraded across her pert nose, and she’d long ago nibbled the lipstick off her full rose lips. An errant wisp of her white-blond hair tumbled across her sculpted cheek.

As he watched her, a tiny pucker formed on her brow, and she shivered, goose bumps forming on her bare arms.

Riley reached for the afghan on the back of the couch and stood to shake it out. Carefully, he draped the cover over Ginny.

But the afghan had barely touched her before her eyes flew open and she bolted upright with a gasp. Her arms came up in a defensive move.

The startled cat jumped down from the sofa and trotted off in a huff.

“Easy there. It’s just me.” Riley sat back down on the coffee table and sent her an apologetic grin. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just thought you might be cold.”

Ginny released a deep breath and, squeezing her eyes shut, dragged her fingers through her tousled hair. “I guess I’m a little jumpy.”

“You think?”

She shot him a look that said smart aleck, but tempered it with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, you have every right to be jumpy. Your life’s been threatened twice in the last forty-eight hours. That’s enough to spook anyone.”

“True. But I’m not usually so high-strung. I need to get a grip.” She lay back down and stretched her good arm over her head, yawning. “How long was I asleep?”

“’Bout an hour and a half.”

“Mmm.” Her eyes drifted closed again. “How goes the battle with the dishwasher?”

“I think I subdued the monster. You had a clogged drain, but all seems to be well now.”

She blinked. “You fixed it? Really?”

“Really.”

Her face lit with wonder and admiration. She clapped her hand over her heart and sighed airily. “My hero!”

Though he forced his lips to match her playful grin, a biting cold balled in his gut. Her lighthearted adoration prodded his internal demons from shadowed corners of his memory. His failures from the past loomed large and dark in his mind’s eye. He had to swallow the knot of bitter defeat in his throat before he could speak. “You’re too easily impressed.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be modest. You’ve saved me from tedious hours of dishwashing at a time when I don’t have a spare hand to do it.” She held up her cast-covered arm. “That’s no small thing. What do I owe you for your services?”

He scowled and waved her off. “Nothing. Glad to help.”

“Dinner at least. My treat.” She took the phone from the coffee table near his hip and waggled it. “You pick the takeout. Suddenly I’m famished.”

The flirtatious spark returned to her eyes, the come-hither invitation that always succeeded in revving his engine. Despite the thrum of desire that swept over him, he couldn’t shake the nip of apprehension that nagged him.

My hero.

If Ginny had any delusions of him being heroic or worthy of her admiration, he was doomed to disappoint her.

Just as he’d let Erin down.

Just as he’d failed his sister.

The last thing he wanted was to hurt Ginny, but the gratitude in her eyes gave him pause. He’d had all the misplaced hero-worship and high expectations he could handle. If he hadn’t promised her mother to stay and keep an eye on her, he’d have made an excuse to leave, to go back to his apartment and forget his overwhelming attraction to Ginny.

Yet his own sense of duty, his deep-seated need to protect her compelled him to stay. His chest tightened with the same tug-of-war that had plagued him since he left her at the hospital the night before.

He wanted to keep her safe, but doing so risked his own peace of mind, risked exposing truths he couldn’t face. Their relationship had to meet his terms, or Ginny could get hurt.

Ginny could be plenty stubborn when she wanted.

She sawed clumsily on her pizza with the edge of her fork, determined not to give up. She’d quickly found holding a gooey slice of pizza with her nondominant hand both messy and awkward. She’d resorted to using a fork, lest she end up with a lapful of pepperoni and cheese, but the fork was proving an equal challenge. Especially since Zachary kept trying to share her food.

She nudged her cat away from her plate again with a chuckle. “Vamoose, chubs. This is my dinner.”

Riley reached over from his end of the couch and lifted Zach to the floor. “Scat, cat.” Moving his empty paper plate to the coffee table, he scooted closer to Ginny. “Can I help? You’re gonna starve before you get that fork to cooperate.”

“No, thanks. I gotta figure this out for myself. I’ve got five weeks of eating left-handed ahead of me and I—”

“Here.” Riley plucked a slice of pepperoni from her pizza and held it up to her mouth.

She cocked her head and sighed her exasperation. “I said I didn’t—”

With a devilish gleam in his eyes, he poked the spicy meat between her lips.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. Two could play this game.

She caught his wrist, and as he withdrew his hand, she sucked the sauce from his finger. “Mmm.”

Riley’s pupils dilated, and she heard his breath catch.

She gave him a sassy grin as she chewed, then washed the bite down with a sip of red wine. “You’re right. Forks are overrated.”

He leaned closer. “There’s more where that came from.”

She met him halfway and raised her face. He molded her lips with his, then teased her mouth with his tongue. His kiss tasted like wine and heat and sweet seduction. Ginny’s head swam, and she angled her head to draw him even closer.

She reveled in his kiss, sure she’d found nirvana. Riley Sinclair was too good to be true, she thought again.

Too good.

An odd flutter of uneasiness stirred in her chest, and she sat back to collect herself. Things were going too fast. Too well.

Riley was gorgeous and brave and thoughtful and sweet. But what did she really know about him?

Too many of her clients had used similar words to describe the men they thought they’d known before those same men had turned on them and shown a darker side. Her own history with men proved she was too easily swayed by first impressions.

The extreme events of the past few days and the intense chemistry that crackled between her and Riley had fast-forwarded their relationship. She of all people should know better than to race blindly into a situation without some level of precaution. Common sense reared its head and cooled the fire licking her veins.

She had to peel away Riley’s layers and get at the heart of this man. She need assurance that he was the kind of guy she could trust. She wanted proof that his character, his soul was as golden as he seemed at face value.

Clearing her throat, Ginny set her plate aside and gave him a measuring glance. “So, fireman, I know you kiss like a pro. I know you’re handy with home repairs and are skilled in CPR. But I want to know more. What’s the scoop?”