# The Marriage Beat

Doreen Roberts

He'sMyHeroA protector, a provider, a friend–he's every woman's hero….FROM THE DESK OFOfficer Tyler JacksonCentral PrecinctI don't know why these hardheaded females think they're invincible. Women like Megan Summers make my job three times as hard. I told the chief that giving this lady self-defense lessons would be a mistake. Now look at what's happened. She's laid up with her arm in a sling!That's the only reason I'm playing nursemaid. It has nothing to do with her blond hair, or her beautiful smile or the way she looks at me when she thinks I can't see….

“I could take care of you,” Tyler said gruffly. Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication DOREEN ROBERTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Copyright

“I could take care of you,” Tyler said gruffly.

She almost laughed out loud. “You? I don’t think so.”

His light blue eyes were full of indignation when he looked at her. “As your instructor I was responsible for seeing that you didn’t get hurt. You can trust me. I’m not going to make any moves on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

For heaven’s sake, the man was serious. Tyler Jackson was too domineering, too patronizing, too darn arrogant, and he would drive her crazy. But what alternative did she have? She ignored the little voice that warned her she would live to regret her decision.

She also ignored the sudden thumping of her heart at the thought of being alone with the rugged cop in her tiny apartment. It was only for a few days. She could survive for a few days.

“All right,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I accept your offer....”

Dear Reader,

The wonder of a Silhouette Romance is that it can touch every woman’s heart. Check out this month’s offerings—and prepare to be swept away!

A woman wild about kids winds up tutoring a single dad in the art of parenthood in Babies, Rattles and Cribs... Oh, My! It’s this month’s BUNDLES OF JOY title from Leanna Wilson. When a Cinderella-esque waitress—complete with wicked stepfamily!—finds herself in danger, she hires a bodyguard whose idea of protection means making her his Glass Slipper Bride, another unforgettable tale from Arlene James. Pair one highly independent woman and one overly protective lawman and what do you have? The prelude to The Marriage Beat, Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new Romance with a HE’S MY HERO cop.

WRANGLERS & LACE is a theme-based promotion highlighting classic Western stories. July’s offering, Cathleen Galitz’s Wyoming Born & Bred, features an ex-rodeo champion bent on reclaiming his family’s homestead who instead discovers that home is with the stubborn new owner...and her three charming children! A long-lost twin, a runaway bride...and A Gift for the Groom—don’t miss this conclusion to Sally Carleen’s delightful duo ON THE WAY TO A WEDDING.... And a man-shy single mom takes a chance and follows The Way to a Cowboy’s Heart in this emotional heart-tugger from rising star Teresa Southwick.

Enjoy this month’s selections, and make sure to drop me a line about why you keep coming back to Romance. We want to fulfill your dreams!

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Senior Editor, Silhouette Romance 300 East 42nd Street, 6th Floor New York, NY 10017

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## The Marriage Beat. Doreen Roberts


www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Bill, for putting up with me.

I love you.

DOREEN ROBERTS

lives with her husband, who is also her manager and her biggest fan, in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon. She believes that everyone should have a little adventure now and again to add interest to their lives. She believes in taking risks and has been known to embark on an adventure or two of her own. She is happiest, however, when she is creating stories about the biggest adventure of all—falling in love and learning to live happily ever after.


Chapter One

Trouble, Tyler Jackson reflected, usually came in threes. It didn’t help matters to be lying flat on his back on the cold hard floor of Central Precinct when that profound thought occurred to him.

The sudden blow to his midriff, which had put him in that embarrassing position, was trouble number one. The young woman scrambling off his stomach was definitely trouble number two. He hated to imagine what might be trouble number three.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said breathlessly. “I didn’t see you until it was too late. Are you all right?”

Of course he wasn’t all right. She’d barreled around the corner at sixty miles an hour and plowed straight into his stomach. The collision had knocked them both off balance and the polished floor had done the rest. He was still trying to get his wind back.

“I was in a hurry. I need help.”

Tyler looked up at his assailant. She wore a sea-green silky shirt with a black skirt that rose several inches above her knees. Her shirt matched her eyes. Gorgeous eyes. He forced his attention off that fact and concentrated instead on the distress he saw in them.

Using his hands, he lithely propelled himself back on his feet. The young woman looked impressed and he was momentarily distracted. Pulling himself together he asked abruptly, “What’s the trouble then? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m all right. It’s my purse. A man snatched it right off my shoulder.” She grabbed his arm and tugged at it. “Come on, he’ll get away with it if you don’t hurry.”

“Now just a minute...take it easy.” Tyler pulled his arm free. “I need to know exactly what happened.”

“I’ve just told you what happened.” She waved an impatient hand at the door. “A man stole my purse. I need someone to go after him and get it back. Right now.”

He pulled his notebook from his pocket. “Now just calm down and tell me where this happened.”

“It was on the South Park Blocks. But he’s not there now. He went down an alleyway on Park. If you’d just go after him he might still be there.”

Tyler’s first instinct was to find someone else to take the case. Anyone else. This woman was trouble. It wasn’t just her silky blond hair, or her full, warm lips and mouth-watering figure, though that was a deadly enough combination. It was her tone of voice.

If there was one thing Tyler had learned to avoid, it was a pushy female, and this one had all the earmarks of a bulldozer temperament.

Deliberately he poised his pencil over the pad. “What did he look like?”

“About five-eight or nine, skinny, dressed in jeans and a dark jacket.” She paused, frowning in concentration, then went on, “He has long, dark, straggly hair and needs a shave and a good wash by the looks of him. I’ll know him when I see him, I can promise you. Please, hurry.” A note of desperation crept into her voice. “I can’t lose my purse.... I just can’t. My whole life is in there.”

Her sudden look of vulnerability struck home. Instincts or not, this woman was in trouble and it was his duty to help. He happened to be on his way out anyway, he argued with his conscience as he snatched a pair of keys from the board on the wall and headed for the door.

Outside in the hot summer afternoon, he was halfway down the steps before she caught up with him. “Wait a minute. I’m coming with you,” she announced, with a note in her voice that dared him to refuse.

He was tempted to do just that. One look at her stricken face, however, and he relented. “All right. You can show me where he went.” He led her around the back of the building, did a fast check of the squad car, then opened the door on the passenger side. “Get in.”

For a moment she looked a little apprehensive, but then she slid into the seat and sat back, her shoulders hunched.

He climbed in beside her with a sense of impending disaster, though he wasn’t sure what prompted the feeling. He reached for his radio and called in his report, then started the engine. “I’m Officer Jackson,” he said, as he backed the car out of its space. “I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Megan Summers.”

“All right, Megan, where did you say this incident happened?”

“On the South Park Blocks, just off Clay.” Her jaw was tense, he noticed, and her hands were thrust between her knees below the hem of her short black skirt. “I chased after him all the way down to Park, but then he went down an alley and I lost sight of him.”

Tyler frowned. “You went after him? That was a mistake. You should never attempt to apprehend a criminal. You must always assume that the suspect is armed and ready to use deadly force.”

“I wasn’t going to apprehend him. I just wanted to see where he went.”

“That’s just as dangerous. If he realizes you’re following him, he could easily take a shot at you to slow you down. That’s a sure way of getting yourself killed.”

She gave him a mutinous scowl. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”

He smiled. “Lady, no woman is capable of taking care of herself on the streets. Or few men for that matter.”

Her expression told him she was unconvinced. “This is Portland, Oregon. You make it sound like one of those big-city slums.”

“When you’re facing a hunted man with a gun, it could be an amusement park for all the difference it makes.” He braked at the light and sent her a stern look. “A bullet can kill you just as dead.”

She lifted her chin. “Well, I think you’re overreacting. I didn’t see any gun. I knew what I was doing.”

That he doubted very much. All his earlier instincts had been on the button. This woman could be trouble. There was nothing more dangerous than a vulnerable woman who believed she was invincible. Especially one who refused to be convinced otherwise.

Obviously Ms. Summers resented being told what was good for her. He’d met women like her before. In fact he’d married one. The fact that the marriage had ended in disaster just went to prove he knew what he was talking about.

Giving up the argument for the time being, he pulled out into the middle lane. “We’ll cruise the streets for a while, but I doubt if we’ll spot him now.”

“We must find him. I absolutely refuse to let him have my purse.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

“Nothing other than what I’ve already told you.”

“Then tell me again.” He listened to her description, his gaze raking the street on both sides as he drove up Main.

“I lost him when he turned down there,” she said, waving her hand at the corner, where a large truck was just backing out of the loading zone.

Tyler waited for the truck to pull out, then followed it around the corner. The main rush of the lunch hour was over, but there were still enough people hurrying down the sidewalks to make it difficult to pick out an alleged purse snatcher.

“I doubt if we’ll spot him now,” he said, after they’d driven several blocks. “He’s had too much time to go underground.”

She looked annoyed. “There must be something you can do. Can’t you call in some help or something?”

He hadn’t really expected to spot the suspect. Too much time had elapsed and there had been too many places to hide. He’d done his best with what little he’d had to go on, and he resented the implication that he was shirking his duty.

“I’ve done all I can for the time being,” he said evenly. “I’ve investigated the scene. Now we’ll go back to the station and fill out a report. I’ll give you some mug shots to look at and see if you can pick him out.”

There was no mistaking the antagonism in her voice when she answered him. “Meanwhile he’s out there spending my money. Besides, I’m supposed to be back at work. I’m real late as it is.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand when you explain the situation.” The light ahead of him turned green and he stepped on the accelerator. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands curl into small fists. She wore no ring on her third finger, he noticed.

“Reports are not going to get my purse back. I’d rather be out on the streets looking for the man.”

“Risking your life. Not to mention the lives of other people who might be in the line of fire. I suggest you leave the police work to the people who are qualified to do it.”

She started to say something, bit back the words, then said carefully, “I’m afraid I don’t have time to fill out your reports. You can drop me off right here, thank you.”

He could just imagine the effort it had taken her to control her temper. He almost felt sorry for her. “Well, Ms. Summers, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist. A crime has been committed and it’s my duty to do everything I can to apprehend the suspect. If you have any hopes at all of recovering your property, I suggest you cooperate with me. I promise you I’ll be just as quick as I can.”

She slumped back against the seat so hard she jarred his shoulders. She kept quiet, however, and he pursed his lips in satisfaction. First round to him.

Megan was still fuming by the time they reached the station. Officer Jackson, she decided, had to be the most arrogant, patronizing, overbearing cop on the force. Trust her luck to be stuck with someone like him. She followed him into a noisy room filled with desks and people, resenting every step. It was really too bad that a man with his looks should be so downright domineering.

He wasn’t all that tall, about five-ten she figured, but he had the kind of athletic build that took lots of strenuous work to maintain. She couldn’t help noticing that the pants of his uniform fitted snugly across his hips, and his waistline was firm above his belt.

She let her gaze travel up his back to his straight dark hair. He’d worn sunglasses in the car, but she knew his eyes were a kind of silvery-blue. She could still remember the way he’d stared up at her when he was sprawled on the floor.

She felt bad about that now. She’d been in such a hurry to find a cop to help her she’d raced around the corner without stopping to think that someone might be coming the other way. She’d just about slammed all the breath out of her lungs when she’d smacked into his hard chest.

His feet had slipped on the polished floor and helped by her weight, they had both gone crashing down. She’d landed on top of him, and heard his grunt as her elbow dug into his stomach. The memory of his solid body underneath her was still vivid in her mind. In fact, thinking about it now sent a tingle down her back.

Officer Jackson led her to a desk in the corner of the room. “Take a seat, Ms. Summers.” He pointed to one of the office chairs facing the desk.

“Thank you.” She sat on the edge of the chair, her gaze drawn to the framed certificates on the wall behind the desk. There were photos, as well...and she spotted a picture of Officer Jackson shaking hands with another police officer.

“Now, let’s see.” He sat down at the desk and opened a drawer. “We’ll start with your name, address and phone number.” He pulled his notebook from his pocket and dropped it on the desk.

She gave him her address, realizing as she did so that all her identification had vanished along with her purse. Driver’s license, social security card, credit cards... “I have to put a stop on my credit cards,” she said, interrupting his next question.

“All in good time. Where do you work?”

“I’m a travel agent at the Starways Travel Agency. Or I was as of this morning.”

He ignored her wry comment and scribbled something down on his notepad. “What time did this incident occur?”

“About an hour ago.” She glanced up at the large clock on the wall above his head. “He’s had plenty of time to max out all my cards by now.”

“You won’t be held responsible for the charges,” Tyler Jackson murmured.

“I’m responsible for the first fifty on each one. That’s going to add up.”

Relenting, he waited impatiently while she made the necessary calls.

As she finished the last one, a disturbing thought occurred to her and she looked at him in dismay. “How am I going to get in my apartment without my keys?”

“I’m sure the manager will have a spare. Can you repeat the description you gave me one more time?”

She did so, rapidly and with rising resentment. He was taking this all very calmly, she thought, considering she’d been attacked in broad daylight on a downtown street. It was all right for Officer Jackson, he hadn’t just had his most valuable personal possessions stolen, with apparently little hope of getting them back.

The questions seemed endless, and for the most part pointless. With one eye on the clock, Megan answered them, feeling more and more frustrated with each passing minute. She’d be real lucky to have a job to go back to, she thought sourly, if this idiot didn’t quit with his ridiculous questions.

It was hard to concentrate in the noisy room, where several people seemed to be talking at once. Phones rang constantly, and the big burly cop standing by the door kept throwing glances her way, as if he were trying to listen in on the conversation.

“How much cash were you carrying?” Tyler Jackson asked, his pen poised above the notepad.

Her patience finally expended, Megan threw up her hands. “What difference does it make? It’s all gone by now, isn’t it? Is all this going to get my purse back? Or what’s left of it?”

“Probably not.”

“Then why are we wasting time? We could have found the man by now if we’d stayed out there looking for him, instead of filling out all this useless information.”

The silver-blue eyes regarded her with faint hostility. “This may seem useless to you, Ms. Summers, but every tiny detail is important. Even if we had found the man, there’s no guarantee I could have arrested him. We have to follow procedure in these cases.”

The enormity of her loss was just beginning to make itself known. Her bank accounts were probably empty by now, which meant bounced checks, embarrassing explanations, more endless forms and phone calls. She glared at Tyler Jackson as if it were all his fault. “I just don’t think you fully understand what it means to lose all your identification, not to mention a sizeable chunk of your finances.”

“I understand that you’re upset, but unfortunately once in a while stuff happens. Don’t you have any family who can help you out for the time being?”

“My mother lives on the other side of town and has her own problems. I’m not going to burden her with mine.”

“Well, you’re lucky. Lots of people don’t have that much.”

Including him, she guessed, sensing the bitterness behind that comment. He looked down at his notepad and gave his head a slight shake, as if disturbed by his own words. “I’ll get the mug shots,” he said, and pushed his chair back.

Megan sent another harried glance at the clock. “What are my chances of finding him in there?”

He shrugged. “Maybe one in fifty.”

“That’s what I figured.” She stood up, feeling empty-handed without her purse to hang onto. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

His mouth tightened. “I’m sorry, too. I’d be a little more careful in future, if I were you. If you hadn’t been walking around the city streets with your purse hanging conveniently over your shoulder, the snatcher might not have had such an easy time of grabbing it.”

Annoyed with his condescending tone she said hotly, “Maybe if there were more cops on the streets these things wouldn’t happen.”

Officer Jackson leaned forward, with a menacing expression that made Megan glad she wasn’t on the wrong side of the law. “This might be a safe city by most standards, but it’s got its share of deadbeats waiting for a handout. They’re just looking for someone like you to come along and make it easy for them.”

“Well, I think there’s something wrong with a city when you can’t walk around without fear of being attacked by some vicious thug.”

“There’s a lot wrong with the world today, Ms. Summers. Which is hardly the fault of law officers. We do our best. I would suggest, however, since you seem intent on putting your life on the line, that you get your locks changed. Just in case. You might also want to take self-defense lessons. The police force offers a course every eight weeks. They could give you the edge you just might need some day.”

She opened her mouth to give him a sharp answer, but then closed it again. That might not be such a bad idea. She thought about it for a moment or two. “All right, where do I sign up?”

He seemed taken aback by her question. He looked at her blankly for a moment, then glanced up at a calendar hanging on the wall next to him. “I guess you’ll have to wait until the fall. The class is full right now.”

“Jackson? A word with you, please?”

The command had come from the beefy cop by the door. Tyler looked over at him, and gave him a brief nod. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Megan. “There are a couple of things I need you to sign before you leave.”

Exasperated by yet another delay, Megan watched the two men disappear out of the door. She was beginning to feel that she would never get out of that room. The picture on the wall caught her eye again and she edged around the desk to get a closer look at it.

It was a photo of Tyler Jackson receiving a citation for bravery in the line of duty. It had been taken several years ago, judging from the image of a much younger officer smiling at his superior. She had actually begun to doubt that the man could smile. He looked quite different in the picture...more carefree, and undeniably attractive without that permanent scowl on his face.

According to the certificates on the wall, Tyler had put his life on the line more than once. In spite of her irritation with him, Megan couldn’t help admiring the tight-lipped cop. She’d always had a weakness for strong, dependable men, though she hadn’t met too many of them as yet.

There was no doubt that Tyler Jackson was a forceful, courageous man, and she just wished she knew what had changed him from that agreeable young man in the picture to the morose, cynical cop he was today.

In fact, she thought, as she took her seat at the desk once more, if he hadn’t had that annoying habit of ordering her around as if she were a teenager instead of a mature woman approaching thirty, she might be tempted to find out.

Captain Richard Stewart had always taken a personal interest in his men. It was the captain’s firm opinion that a good cop needed a happy, stable home life in order to do his job. It was also his considered opinion that Tyler Jackson’s home life fell far short of the ideal.

As far as Richard Stewart was aware, Tyler lived alone in a tiny studio apartment, ate mostly junk food and looked as if he could use more sleep. He rarely smiled, and the captain had never heard him joke with the rest of the guys. In other words, Tyler Jackson’s life was the pits, and Captain Stewart was very much afraid that one day that pitiful state of affairs might just cause a loss of concentration and cost Tyler his life.

What Officer Jackson needed, Captain Stewart decided, was a good woman. Someone who would be strong enough to stand up to the man and make him take better care of himself. The captain had no idea if Megan Summers was that woman, but she certainly seemed to be a nice lady and undoubtedly strong-willed. After watching the two of them together, there was absolutely no doubt in the captain’s mind about the spark that seemed to sizzle between the two of them.

Therefore, being the responsible captain that he was, Richard Stewart decided to take a hand in fate, so to speak, and give these two nice people a gentle nudge in the right direction. Which was why he’d called Tyler Jackson into his office.

Tyler, who was still trying to get his cool back after dealing with the argumentative Megan Summers, eyed his superior officer warily as he sat down in front of the desk. It wasn’t often that he was called into the captain’s office. He was trying to think of how he might have messed up.

“Jackson,” Richard Stewart said, folding his hands across his protruding stomach, “I understand that young lady out there wishes to take lessons in self-defense.”

Tyler nodded, wondering where this surprising statement was leading. “I told her the classes were full.”

“So I heard.” The captain leaned back in his chair and surveyed the ceiling. “She seems like a very independent young woman.”

Tyler twisted his mouth in a wry grimace before answering, “Yes, sir. Very.”

“In which case, I think she might well benefit from the lessons. Independent women have a habit of running into trouble.”

“Don’t I know it,” Tyler muttered. “I suggested she take the classes in the fall.”

“Ah.” Captain Stewart appeared to think that over. “In this case, Jackson, I think it might be wise to make special arrangements for that young lady.”

Tyler frowned, watching his captain with growing suspicion. “What kind of special arrangements?”

The captain lowered his chin and leaned forward. Fixing his piercing gaze on Tyler’s face, he said clearly, “I think she should have the lessons now.”

Tyler stared at him in bewilderment. “But the classes are full. Plus they’ve already started. It would throw the instructor off if Ms. Summers came in at this late date.”

“Exactly, which is why I think she should have private lessons.”

“Private lessons? But—”

“And you should give them to her.”

Tyler’s feet hit the floor as he bounced off his chair. “What? Why me? Are you nuts?”

The captain’s eyes narrowed and Tyler hastily added, “Sir?”

“I’m not nuts, as you so succinctly put it,” Stewart said mildly. “I happen to think that young lady would be a great deal safer if she knew how to protect herself in an emergency.”

“No doubt, but surely it can wait until the fall?”

“I don’t think so.”

Tyler had the distinct impression that something was brewing behind the captain’s stern expression, but he couldn’t for the life of him think what it might be. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Captain. I’d like to oblige, but my quota is full. I don’t have time to give self-defense lessons to anyone right now. Maybe later on....”

Captain Stewart could look almost murderous at times. This was one of those times.

“I said now, Jackson. I suggest you find time.”

Tyler made one last, desperate attempt. “But—”

“And that’s an order.”

Tyler clamped his lips tight shut before the curse slipped out. He waited a second or two, then muttered a quiet, “Yes, sir,” before turning on his heel to head for the door.

“Jackson.”

Tyler waited, his hand on the doorknob.

“This week, Jackson. No later.”

This time Tyler’s muttered, “Yes, sir,” was delivered through gritted teeth. On his way out he shut the door with a decisive thud. The old man was losing his marbles. Private lessons in self-defense? Where in the hell was he going to find the time? Who the hell wanted to spend what little spare time he had wrestling with a smart-mouthed woman who looked as if she’d break in two if he so much as touched her?

The thought of having to throw Megan Summers down on the floor was bad enough. The idea of teaching Megan Summers to throw him down on the floor was intolerable.

What was really intolerable, Tyler reluctantly admitted as he strode grimly back to the office, was that for a brief instant, when Megan Summers was scrambling to climb off him earlier, he had felt a distinct response in a place that hadn’t had a whole lot of action lately.

Now he knew where trouble number three was coming from. That, as far as Tyler was concerned, was the worst trouble of alL If he had to spend the next six to eight weeks wrestling with a woman who could turn him on that easily, he was heading for total disaster.

Inside the office, Megan looked up expectantly as the door swung open. Officer Jackson walked in, looking as if he would like to mow down everyone in his path. Obviously the news had not been good. She wisely decided to keep a still tongue as he sat down heavily at the desk.

He stared down at the notepad for so long she wondered uneasily if the bad news was connected to her encounter with the purse snatcher. She was about to ask him when he tore a sheet from the notepad, and looked up with a formidable expression that made her forget what she was going to ask.

“Read this over and sign here,” he said curtly, flipping the page across the desk.

She scanned the lines without comprehending what she was reading. She knew he was watching her, with a strange brooding expression that stirred up all kinds of unrest inside her. Her hand shook slightly as she picked up the pen he’d pushed across to her. Quickly she scrawled her signature and thrust the paper back at him. “Now am I free to go?”

“In just a moment.” He stared down at the page in his hand as if he’d never seen it before.

He was making her nervous. Something was obviously bothering him and somehow she just knew it had something to do with her. She couldn’t just sit there and wait all afternoon for him to tell her what it was.

“Officer Jackson—”

“Ms. Summers—”

They’d both spoken at once, and Megan waited, holding her breath.

“Ms. Summers,” Tyler Jackson said, a little more quietly, “I have been authorized to offer you private lessons in self-defense. Starting immediately.”

Of all the things she’d been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t that. She stared at him, forgetting to close her mouth.

Tyler gave her a look filled with desperation. “Of course, you are quite at liberty to refuse—”

She said the first thing that came into her head. “Who will be giving the lessons?”

She knew by his hunted expression what the answer would be long before he blurted out, “I’ve been appointed your instructor.”

Obviously under protest. She sat back, thinking furiously. She had no idea who had instigated this turn of events or why, but her first instinct was to refuse. Much as she would like to have the security of knowing how to protect herself, the mere thought of wrestling on a mat with the imposing, antagonistic cop was enough to turn her insides to jelly.

The fact that she felt a distinct thrill at the prospect only intensified the problem. She didn’t need any more complications in her life right now.

On the other hand, living alone did have distinct disadvantages. One of them was the feeling of vulnerability, brought home even more potently by Tyler Jackson’s observations on the criminal element in Portland. It was a feeling that did not sit well with Megan.

“I accept,” she said, before she could change her mind and chicken out.

Officer Jackson looked as if he were about to throw up. “Do you know Captain Stewart personally, by any chance?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

“No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway. Why?”

He shook his head. “Forget it.” He stared at the calendar, looked back at her, then back at the calendar again. “How does Thursday night sit with you?”

“Thursday night’s just fine. Where?”

“The gym.” He scribbled down an address on a small yellow notepad. “Can you make it by six? We’ll have an hour before the volleyball team takes over.”

“I’ll be there.” She took the note and glanced at it. “Thank you, Officer Jackson.”

He passed a hand across his brow, sweeping back his hair. “Look...Megan, it will make things a lot easier if you just call me Tyler.”

He’d called her Megan earlier, she remembered. Then he’d changed it to Ms. Summers. Now he was back to calling her Megan again. She liked that a whole lot better. “Thank you, Tyler. You’ll let me know if you find my purse?”

He started, as if he’d forgotten why she was there in the first place. “Of course. Though I wouldn’t hold out too much hope if I were you. We rarely recover snatched purses, and even if we do, they are generally empty.”

He was just a little ray of sunshine, Megan thought, as she walked out of the office and down the hallway to the main doors. Whatever happened to positive thinking? But then, being a cop in today’s violent world probably didn’t allow much room for positive thoughts. More than likely, Tyler Jackson was just too busy trying to stay alive.

She walked slowly back along the six blocks to her office, aware that particular thought bothered her a great deal more than it should have. Already she was beginning to have a protective attitude toward him. This was not good.

She thought about calling him and canceling the lessons. Then she reminded herself that she was a grown woman and well able to take care of herself. If she couldn’t stay indifferent to a surly cop with an attitude, then she wasn’t her mother’s daughter.

With that thought squarely in mind, she marched back to her office and did her best to forget the steely eyes of Officer Tyler Jackson.

Chapter Two

Tyler sat for a long time at his desk after Megan Summers had left, wondering what on earth had possessed his captain to order such a dumb assignment. Maybe he was being punished for something he didn’t know about. More likely Captain Stewart was trying to prove something, though heaven knew what that was.

Tyler sighed, and slipped the report he’d just filled out into the file. He hadn’t joined the force to give self-defense lessons. In fact, there were some days when he wondered why he’d ever wanted to become a cop. It certainly wasn’t the glamorous, exciting life he’d imagined when he’d first started as a rookie.

The job had its moments, of course...the feeling of satisfaction of a job well done when he’d seen a criminal locked away. Watching a thug get what he deserved—those were the moments that made his job worthwhile.

There was also the downside. The innocent people hurt, maimed or killed by a lawbreaker—children on drugs, wives beaten half to death, families crushed in a car hit by a drunk driver—these were the nightmares that haunted him.

In comparison, he thought, as he scanned the information Megan Summers had given him, wrestling a defenseless woman to the mat seemed like a picnic. Even so, he wished he’d never mentioned the lessons. A little learning could be dangerous.

He could just imagine Megan Summers taking on the entire criminal population of Portland if she thought she could overpower them. He’d have to make darn sure she understood that her ability would be limited. He’d have to warn her not to start something she wasn’t sure she could finish.

Tyler closed the file and dropped it into the out bin. He could understand her frustration, of course. She was a helpless victim, and she wanted to hit back. He knew that feeling very well. He’d watched his own brother struggle with his inadequacies.

Tyler had fought many a battle for Mason, defending his brother against the ignorant bullies who taunted him. It was Tyler who had been suspended from school for fighting, and it was Tyler who had been grounded for two weeks for blacking both eyes of the kid next door. He’d considered it a small price to pay for the satisfaction of teaching his brother’s tormentors a lesson.

Tyler shook his head as he got wearily to his feet. That was him, the almighty protector. He’d done it so much for his brother it had become a way of life for him. And it was still getting him into trouble.

He closed his mind to the vision of a delicate face and beautiful green eyes. Megan Summers’s looks were deceptive. There was nothing fragile about that lady. He was worrying over nothing. Might as well accept the situation and get it over with as quickly as possible.

He tried to keep that thought firmly in mind as he watched Megan walk across the floor toward him on Thursday evening. She was wearing black tights and a bright pink leotard that hugged her body as close as a second skin. The tiny sleeves left most of her arms bare and the scooped neckline hovered just above the line of decency. The second he saw her he knew he was in deep trouble.

He lowered his gaze to the floor and massaged the back of his neck, giving himself time to reconstruct his shattered composure. He was glad he’d put on shorts and tank top. He was going to need all the help he could get to keep his cool.

He had to force himself to look up when she reached him. If it was any comfort, she looked as nervous as he felt. She’d tied her hair back with a pale pink scarf, and wore no makeup, save for a dash of color on her lips. The effect made her look much younger than the twenty-nine years she’d stated on the report.

He was just seven years older than her, but right then the gap seemed much wider. It helped. A little. “I’m glad to see you’re on time,” he said, his uneasiness making his voice sound harsh.

She lifted her chin. “I’m always on time.”

Her cool voice made him think of a creek trickling through the forest on a hot summer afternoon. Unnerved by his poetic thoughts, he turned away from her and waved his hand at the mat. “Okay, let’s get started.”

He made her stand on the very edge of the mat, as far away from him as possible, as he went through the usual routine of explaining some of the easier ways she could defend herself. She seemed uncomfortable at his demonstration of poking fingers into an assailant’s eyes or throat, and looked sick when he told her that if she thrust the heel of her hand hard enough up under an attacker’s nose she could drive the bone through his brain.

That one usually got to the more squeamish students, but Megan seemed to recover fast enough to ask questions. In fact, by the time he’d finished his initial briefing of what the lessons would entail, she seemed anxious and eager to get on with them.

A glance at the clock told him he still had thirty minutes. Half an hour of pure torture, if his body was any indication of what to expect.

“Before we start the first moves,” he announced, hoping his dry throat wouldn’t affect his voice, “we’ll do a warm-up session to relax your muscles.”

“My muscles are perfectly relaxed,” Megan announced, doing a swift knee-bend to prove it. “I work out every morning.”

Her muscles might be perfectly relaxed, Tyler thought grimly, but his were as tight as a drum. “I don’t care what you do in the mornings. When you’re in my class you do warm-ups. I don’t need a pulled muscle on my conscience.”

Her magnificent eyes sparkled with resentment. “I’m not likely to pull a muscle, but if you insist—”

“I do insist.”

She looked put out, but followed him through the warm-up routine, making it all look so effortless his normally active body felt sluggish.

When he couldn’t put it off any longer, he braced himself for the hands-on procedures. “The first thing you have to remember when attempting to use a defensive move is to act with aggression. Yell, scream or swear, but make as much noise as possible. It will unnerve your opponent.” He took a stance, jabbed at the air and let out a bellow that made Megan jump backward off the mat.

Pleased that he’d got his point across, he braced himself. “Now come and take a shot at me.”

She blinked, took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. “I beg your pardon?”

He pounded his chest. “Here. Come and hit me here. Use as much force as you can.”

She gave her head a slight shake, poised herself on her toes, then rushed at him with a yell that would have scared Geronimo. He was so taken with her effort that he almost forgot to sidestep. Pivoting on his heel, he caught her raised arm, pulled her forward, tucked his shoulder into her armpit and bent double, flipping her neatly over his shoulder.

At least, it was supposed to be neatly. The sudden shock of her lithe body slithering over his made him check for an instant, enough to make him lose the momentum. He had to grab her to prevent her from falling awkwardly.

Luckily she didn’t seem to notice as she sprawled safely and somehow elegantly onto the mat. “Wow!” she said, sitting up. “That was great. It looks so easy. Can I do that?”

Tyler was still trying to get his wits back after suffering the exquisite agony of grasping her slim waist with both hands. “Only if you pay attention to what I tell you,” he barked hoarsely.

She looked taken aback at his tone, and he pulled in a deep breath. Get it under control, Jackson, he warned himself. This was serious stuff. He needed his concentration.

He forced himself to speak more naturally. “What I did was use your momentum to pull you off balance. I pulled you in the direction you were already going, and the rest was leverage. It’s not as easy as it looks. Here.”

He grabbed her arm, frowning in the effort to think of her as a cloth dummy instead of a warm, vibrant, sweet-smelling woman.

The next ten minutes were pure hell. The more moves he showed her, and the more contact he had with her firm body, the more irritable he became. He was furious with himself, furious at his weakness, and even more furious at her for having the power to do this to him. In an effort to disguise his problem, he rapped out his orders, sounding like a sergeant major with a bad hangover.

Megan was having just as much trouble paying attention. From the moment she’d seen him standing on the mat, legs braced apart in black gym shorts and a large portion of his chest bared by a blue tank top, she’d had trouble concentrating.

Every time he came near her she jumped, and whenever he put his hands on her, she just about curled up inside. To make matters worse, he kept snapping out orders at her, making her even more nervous.

In fact her nerves were strung up so tight she just knew if he didn’t quit yelling at her like that she’d explode, and tell him to forget the darn lessons. She should report him for being the worst instructor she’d ever encountered. Period.

He’d shown her how to grab his arm and pull him forward, but when it came to getting her shoulder beneath him to flip him over, she kept forgetting to bend over at the right time.

She was getting tired, and her muscles were sore. She just couldn’t wait until the lesson was over so she could go home and soak in the tub.

“All right,” Tyler said, mopping his brow with the back of his hand, “we’ll try it one more time then call it quits for tonight.”

Wondering if he’d read her mind, she gathered up the last of her energy. This time she’d do it. Just once she’d like to see him flat on his back with her foot in his neck. She faced him, muscles tensed, ready for the attack.

He scowled at her, in his role of attacker. “Remember to yell.”

He started toward her and she yelled, raising her hands to reach for his outstretched arm.

“Grab and pull,” he shouted. “Get under, under, bend, bend...no bend!”

She bent. This time, for the first time, his feet left the floor. For one glorious moment she felt his weight shifting over her shoulder. In her delight she started to straighten up, then gasped as her arm twisted awkwardly under his weight. She hadn’t quite got the hang of it yet, she realized in alarm.

He crashed to the mat on his back, dragging her with him. She cried out as his full weight landed on her forearm. He rolled off her in an instant, but the pain brought tears to her eyes. She sank onto the mat, cradling her arm against her body.

“Damn! I told you to bend.” Tyler knelt in front of her. “Let me look.”

She tried to lift her arm to show him, but it hurt to move it.

“Try wiggling your fingers,” he ordered, his voice softening in sympathy.

She felt like crying as she gingerly moved her fingers. It hurt like the blazes, but they worked.

Gently, he reached for her arm and ran his warm fingers up and down it. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said gruffly, “but I’m taking you to the hospital to get it checked out.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“Don’t argue with me. You’re going and that’s the end of it.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

She kept it shut all the way to the hospital, even though she was aware of the worried glances he kept sending her. She’d had trouble getting into her jeans, and he’d had to help her. It had been embarrassing to say the least. Right then she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to say to him.

Tyler did all the talking when they arrived at the check-in desk in Emergency. He’d pulled on a pair of black sweatpants over his shorts, and looked more like a high-school coach than a cop. Megan noticed the skeptical way the nurse looked at him when he explained who he was.

She had to sign the form with her left hand, something she hadn’t done since she was in grade school. Her effort looked unreadable, but the friendly nurse assured her it was just fine.

Told to wait in the lounge, she took a seat near the window, overlooking the parking lot. It gave her something on which to concentrate her attention.

Tyler sat down opposite her, his face creased in a worried frown. “How’s it feel?” he asked her, when she looked at him.

“Not bad,” she lied. “I’m sure it will be just fine.”

He looked guilty. “This is bad. I’ve never had a student injured before.”

“It was my fault. I didn’t bend properly.”

“No, it was mine. I should have made sure you were following my instructions.”

She shook her head at him. “No, really. Your instructions were fine. It was my fault. I forgot to stay down until you were all the way over and—”

“I’m the instructor. I’m supposed to be able to prevent you from hurting yourself.”

She sat back, knowing it was useless to argue. He was determined to take the blame. She felt miserable. She was tired, hungry, in pain and felt like a prize idiot. If she hadn’t been so distracted by Tyler Jackson’s great muscles, if she hadn’t been so conscious of his steely-blue eyes, she’d have paid more attention and this wouldn’t have happened.

It would have to be her right arm, she thought in disgust. This was not turning out to be her week. First she’d had her purse stolen, which so far hadn’t turned up, and now she’d wrecked her arm in her very first lesson in self-defense. What else could possibly go wrong?

“Megan Summers?”

She looked up to see a young nurse standing at the door, beckoning to her.

Tyler got to his feet.

Megan got up, too. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she told him.

“I’m going with you. Here, give me your purse. I’ll carry it for you.”

“I can carry it myself. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to be sure of that.”

She looked up at him, ready to argue. One look at his face told her she’d be wasting her breath. Still hanging on to her purse, she followed the nurse into the cubicle with Tyler hot on her heels.

The nurse made her sit on the bed and pulled the curtain around her. Tyler hovered in the small space, looking painfully uncomfortable. Megan wondered what he’d do if she had to disrobe. Getting out of a leotard with one arm would prove to be real challenging.

She tried to think of something to say that would release the tension, but all she could think of was that she wanted him to leave. She didn’t think that would help much.

Fortunately she wasn’t kept waiting too long before a man who looked too young to be a doctor whisked the curtain aside. “Well, what have we here?” he asked, giving Tyler a quick up and down scrutiny. “I’m Dr. Hartford. Are you the husband?”

“Friend,” Tyler said briefly.

The doctor glanced at Megan. “All right for him to stay?”

“As long as I don’t have to take anything off.” She avoided looking at Tyler, but she heard his slight cough.

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” The doctor took hold of her arm in a firm grasp and gently raised it. “Does that hurt?”

She shook her head.

He probed all the way down her arm with strong fingers. “All right, grasp my hand as if you’re going to shake it.”

She slowly closed her fingers around his. The second she tried to grip his hand major pain tore through her arm all the way up to her shoulder. She let out a small yelp.

“Ah.” Dr. Hartford closed his fingers around her wrist and gave it a gentle twist. “Hurt?”

“Yes!”

She’d forced the word through gritted teeth, and she saw Tyler’s shoulders hunch.

Dr. Hartford pulled her arm straight out in front of her. “Press your hand back,” he ordered.

She tried, but nothing happened. Except for a whitehot heat slashing up her arm, that was. “I can’t,” she said, looking anxiously up at him. “Is it broken?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, but you’ve done some pretty good damage to your arm. Tom ligaments and, I suspect, a strained muscle. That will take a few days to heal.”

“Will I be able to use it?” She looked down at the useless hand in her lap. “Look, I can wiggle my fingers.”

“But it hurts to do that, right?”

She gave a miserable nod. “Right.”

“Then don’t do that.” Dr. Hartford winked at Tyler, who didn’t seem to get the joke.

Megan wasn’t particularly amused, either.

“It’s going to hurt for a while,” the doctor said, giving her an encouraging smile. “We’ll give you something to help with that. We’ll also wrap the arm and put it in a sling to make things a little more comfortable. Don’t try to use it under any circumstances. You’ll only aggravate the problem, and if you do, you could end up doing some permanent damage.” He handed her a business card. Make an appointment with my office to see me in a week. You should be feeling a lot better by then.”

He nodded at Tyler, who said gruffly, “Thanks, Doc.”

“Thank you,” Megan echoed, her mind already grappling with the major problems her injury was about to cause.

“See you next week,” Dr. Hartford said cheerfully. “The nurse will be back in a minute to wrap that arm. Take care.” He disappeared through the curtain, leaving Megan alone with Tyler.

For a long moment neither of them spoke, then Tyler said quietly, “I’m sorry. I really messed things up for you.”

She shook her head, her mind still on her problems. “I’ll manage.”

“What about your work?”

She shrugged. “I’ll take a couple of weeks off.”

“You’re going to need some help. What about your mother? Can she take care of you?”

She looked up at him. “Look, please don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. It’s only one arm. I’ve got another one.”

“It’s your right arm. You’re right-handed, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“You haven’t begun to realize how awkward that’s going to be for you. You can’t drive, cut up your food, tie shoelaces, dress yourself, cook your meals or shop for groceries.”

She didn’t like the insinuation that she was entirely helpless. “Lots of people manage with one arm. What about all those people who lose an arm, or are born without one?”

“They’ve had years of therapy to learn how to get by. You’re facing a crash course...alone.”

He had a point. She tried to visualize herself fastening her bra with one arm. Taking the top off the toothpaste. Opening a can of soda. She let out a long sigh of frustration.

“So, what about your mother?” Tyler looked at his watch. “I could give her a call for you.”

“No.” Megan chewed on her lip. “My mother lives clear across town. She’s a real estate agent, and relies on her commission to support herself and my kid brother. I can’t take her away from her work for two weeks. She could lose customers that way.”

“Couldn’t you stay with her?”

“She lives in a two-bedroom apartment. Besides, she doesn’t have time to take care of me. She’s too busy with her own job.”

Tyler started to say something else, but just then the nurse arrived to wrap her arm.

“You can shower,” the nurse said, when she’d fitted the injured arm into a sling and tied it around Megan’s neck, “but you will have to rewrap it afterward. Make sure it’s good and tight for support.”

Megan nodded. “Can I go now?”

“Sure, you can.” The nurse handed her a piece of paper. “Get this filled in the pharmacy on the way out, and whatever you do, don’t try to use that arm.”

“I won’t.” Megan thanked her and slid off the bed.

The nurse smiled at them both, whisked back the curtain and hurried off to take care of someone else.

“You don’t have any friends who can help out?” Tyler asked, as he walked with her down the long, brightly lit hallway.

“None who don’t have full-time jobs,” Megan said gloomily. “I guess I’ll have to ask my mother to step in. Much as I hate to do that.”

Tyler cleared his throat. “I do have one suggestion.”

She glanced up at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his jaw set at a grim angle. “What’s that?”

“I could take care of you.”

She almost laughed out loud. “You? I don’t think so. But thanks.”

His light blue eyes were full of indignation when he looked at her. “I’m quite capable of taking care of you. I have some leave due to me. I never take it, so it’s adding up. I could put it to good use helping out until your arm is healed.” He nodded at an arrow that pointed the way to the pharmacy. “It’s down here.”

She followed him, finding it hard to believe he was serious. Arriving at the counter, she handed over the prescription to a young man, who told her it would be about ten minutes.

She sat down in one of the comfortable armchairs and watched Tyler lower himself into the other. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” she said, still not quite sure if he was joking, “but really, I’ll be fine. I’m sure my mother will be happy to have me stay there.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Gary can sleep on the couch. He’s used to roughing it. He’ll be okay.”

“No. It was my fault you were injured. As your instructor I was responsible for seeing that you didn’t get hurt. I should be the one to take care of you.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not going to sue, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His mouth tightened. “That’s not what I’m worried about. I feel bad about what happened and I want to make up for it. This is one way I can do that.” His frown deepened. “You can trust me. I’m not going to make any moves on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” For heaven’s sake the man was serious. She stared at him, trying vainly to think of a way to let him down lightly.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer,” Tyler said quietly. “So don’t even try.”

She said the only thing she could think of. “I only have one bedroom.”

“I’ll sleep at my place, of course. But I’ll be around in the daytime if you need me.”

Well, that was a relief. For a moment she thought he was proposing camping out on the floor. “I really don’t think—”

“Don’t think. It’s all settled. I’ll take you home and cook you dinner.”

“That won’t be necessary. I can pick up something from a fast-food place on the way home.”

“Fast food isn’t good for you. I’ll cook.”

“I have to get my car from the gym.”

“I’ll have one of the officers drive it over. I can take him back to his car.”

Megan stared at him, torn between a possible solution to her problem and the utter stupidity of accepting his offer. There was no way the two of them could spend five minutes in each other’s company without jumping at each other’s throat.

Tyler Jackson was too domineering, too patronizing, too dam arrogant, too fond of handing out orders and would drive her crazy. On the other hand, her mother would also drive her crazy. At least this way, if things got too unbearable, she could simply tell Officer Jackson to leave.

She ignored the little voice that warned her she would live to regret her decision. She also ignored the sudden thumping of her heart at the thought of being alone with the rugged cop in her tiny apartment. It was only for a few days. She could survive for a few days.

“All right,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “I accept your offer.”

His steely gaze faltered for a moment, then he gave a brief nod. “Fine. I have to call the station, then I’ll be right back.”

She watched him disappear around the corner, wondering if it was her imagination, or if he really did look as if he were preparing for battle.

Tyler kept his head down and didn’t stop until he burst through the main doors of the hospital and erupted into the parking lot.

The soft evening breeze rustled the leaves of the flowering cherry trees, cooling his brow as he strode over to his car. He needed all the help he could get, he reflected, as he unlocked the door. Of all the crazy, lamebrained ideas he’d ever had, this one had to be the absolute pits. What the hell was he thinking of?

He’d more or less made the suggestion on a wild impulse that he’d instantly regretted. When Megan Summers had refused him at first, then started to argue with him, for some reason he’d felt compelled to dig in his heels. He wasn’t satisfied until he’d won the point. Now he was stuck with it.

She brought out the worst in him, he thought savagely as he reached for his cell phone. She had a way of stepping on his toes and hitting all his buttons in one go. She drove him crazy and now he would have to live with that for ten days. Maybe more. Damn the captain and his self-defense lessons. It was all his fault.

Tyler scowled as he jabbed out the captain’s home phone number. He hoped Stewart was in the middle of dinner. He jumped when Lacey Stewart, the captain’s wife, answered.

“It’s Tyler Jackson,” he said, softening his voice. “Is the captain there?”

“He’s in the den,” Lacey said, sounding worried. “I’ll get him.”

A few seconds later Stewart’s voice spoke in his ear. “Jackson? What’s up?”

“There’s been...a little accident,” Tyler said, gripping the phone with tense fingers. “I’m going to need the next couple of weeks off.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital.”

“Are you hurt bad? What happened?”

Tyler sighed. “I was giving Ms. Summers her self-defense lessons, as you ordered, and I screwed up. She’s hurt her arm and can’t use it.”

“Oh, geez.” Stewart paused for a moment. “How bad is it?”

“She’ll be out of action ten days or so, according to the doctor.” Tyler looked up at the sky through the windshield. “I offered to take care of her,” he mumbled.

“You what! Say that again, Jackson?”

Tyler gritted his teeth. “You heard me. I’m going to take care of her. She doesn’t have anyone else and I feel responsible.”

There was a long pause on the end of the line, then the captain spoke again with an odd tightness in his voice. “I understand. Go ahead, Jackson. Do what you have to do.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I’ll need someone to pick up her car. It’s at the gym. The address is in the report of the mugging.”

“I’ll send someone. Just make sure he gets back to his car.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Captain.”

“And...good luck, Jackson. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Tyler hung up, frowning. It sounded for all the world as if the captain was trying desperately not to laugh. The thought didn’t improve his temper any.

He slammed out of the car and stood for a moment trying to calm his frisky nerves. He’d made the suggestion, and he couldn’t back out now. It was true what he’d told the captain. He felt responsible.

He’d messed up and it was his moral duty to set things right. Megan Summers needed help because of something he’d done, and it was only right that he do what he could to help her out. That was all there was to it. He’d have done the same if she’d been toothless and ninety years old.

Of course, he reminded himself, as he marched back to the building, had Megan Summers been toothless and ninety years old, he wouldn’t be in as much trouble as he was now.

If he were real honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t the way Megan Summers stirred up his irritation that bothered him half as much as the way she stirred up his primitive urges. That, he thought worriedly, was where the true problem lay and that could get him into more trouble than he could handle.

Here he was, planning on spending the next week or so in the more or less exclusive company of a woman who could make him forget all the reasons why he’d sworn off any more serious relationships. He’d just have to start thinking—and acting—like a monk for the next few days, and try not to notice that the woman drove him nuts.

Something told him that it wasn’t exactly going to be a piece of cake.

Chapter Three

“I still think it would be easier just to pick up a hamburger or something,” Megan said, as Tyler weaved his way through the traffic on the Banfield Freeway.

“You can’t eat fast food every night for two weeks. You’ll end up with stomach ulcers. If I’m going to cook for you I might as well start now.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “How good a cook are you?”

“Mediocre, but I get by.”

The closer they got to her apartment, the more worried she was getting. The idea of Tyler Jackson cooking dinner in her tiny kitchen gave her goose bumps. “You cook for yourself?” She’d assumed that he lived alone, but it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it.

“Sometimes.”

“What do you do the other times?”

He sent her a wary glance. “I eat fast food.”

“How come you don’t have ulcers?”

“Men have stronger stomachs than women.”

And thicker heads, Megan added inwardly. She was a pretty good cook herself. She just hoped that his cooking was at least edible. “Hamburgers would be quicker,” she said, refusing to give up without a fight.

“No hamburgers. You need something more nutritious than that. You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick. I just hurt my arm.”

“You’ve been injured. Your resistance is down.”

He was wearing it down, Megan thought mutinously. She should never have agreed to this ridiculous idea. She closed her eyes briefly as Tyler jumped lanes. For a cop he was an erratic driver. Unless all cops learned to drive that way. “I’m not sure I have anything for dinner in the fridge,” she muttered, giving it one last shot.

“I’ll find something.” His tone warned her that was the final word.

She gave up, and spent the next five minutes trying to remember what food she had in the house that wouldn’t present too much of a challenge.

“I’ll need directions from here,” Tyler said, as he took the off-ramp.

She gave them to him, directing him to her apartment building. He pulled up in her parking space and looked around with the same expression her mother had worn when she’d first seen it.

Annoyed with his attitude, she said defensively, “It may be small, but it’s cheap and I like it.” She reached across her injured arm for the door handle.

“Wait!” He shook his head at her. “I’ll get that. Just sit tight.”

She did her best to fight back her irritation. After all, she thought, as he leaped out of his seat and strode around to her side of the car, he was worried about her. He wanted to make sure she didn’t aggravate her injury. She just wished he would give her a little more credit for taking care of things herself.

The door flew open and Tyler leaned in. “All right, feet first.”

For the sake of peace she did what she was told. She swung her feet down and allowed him to take her good arm as she climbed out.

“There.” He looked far too smug. “Now, where’s your keys?”

“In my purse.” She slipped it off her shoulder and handed it to him.

He looked at it as if it were about to explode.

“You can open it,” Megan said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. “There’s nothing in there to bite you.”

He sent her a scathing glance and opened the purse, dug out the keys, then handed it back to her. “All right. Which way?”

She pointed to the main door. “Through there, up the stairs and take a left. Number twenty-four.”

“Got it.” He took her good arm and guided her toward the door.