LITMIR.BIZ

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store’s logo on it. “I’m afraid I can’t. There’re…complications.”

      He played it as if she wasn’t the suspect he’d been sent to track. “Husband?”

      “No.” She held up her left hand to substantiate her answer.

      “Boyfriend?”

      This time, Gina smiled as she shook her head, thinking him sweet and wondering if she was a fool for thinking it. “No.”

      Ben raised his brows in a supposed last-ditch, far-out guess. “Strict parents?”

      She laughed. “No. Just…complications.”

      Gina wondered how her son would take to being referred to as a complication. In reality, he was the most uncomplicated, most wonderful part of her life. But arranging her schedule around him, picking him up at school and making sure he was safe at all times, did lead to a great many complications.

      “If you come by the store tomorrow,” she told him, hoping that he would, “I’ll let you know about dinner.”

      “Why don’t you just give me your home phone number and I’ll call you?” He made the suggestion as casually as he could.

      He seemed like a nice person, but she’d made a costly error in judgment before. It was better to be safe than sorry. “Coming by the shop would be easier.”

      “Here, let me give you my cell phone number just in case you need to get in touch with me.” He wrote it down on a slip of paper and handed it to her. Folding it, she slipped it into her pocket. “You’ve aroused my curiosity, you know.” Ben realized his mistake the instant the teasing remark left his lips. A wary look had entered her eyes. He immediately went into damage control. “Will I have to guess anyone’s name, climb up a ladder made of golden hair or slay a dragon before I earn the pleasure of your company and get access to your knowledge?”

      Ben silently breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her smile again. “No, nothing like that, I promise.” Taking out the day’s cash, she put it into a metal strongbox, then slipped a cover over the cash register.

      The cop in him had him glancing toward the front door. This wasn’t known to be the most savory location in San Francisco. “Should you be here by yourself doing that?”

      The note of concern caught her off guard. So did the warmth stirring in response. “I’ve done this before. The front door locks automatically at nine. I’m going to have to use a key to let you out.”

      “Why don’t I wait until you’re finished and walk you to your car?” He wasn’t certain if it was the man he was pretending to be or the man he was who made the offer.

      There was a part of her that yearned for just that. To have someone walk her to her car, to offer her his protection by mutual agreement. But there was a part, a much larger part, that had become very leery of protectiveness because it could so easily turn into possessiveness. And that led to dark places.

      So, very politely but firmly, she turned him down. “Thank you, but there’s no need for that.” Gina cut him off before he could offer a protest. “And Jon would be upset if I let someone remain in the store when I put the money into the safe.” Slipping the strongbox beneath the counter, she came out from behind it and deliberately led the way to the front doors. Unlocking them, she pushed one open and held it for him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ben.”

      “Count on it.”

      Walking to his car, he thought of following Gina when she left the bookstore. But it was harder tailing someone at night than in the light of day, and if for some reason she spotted him, it would definitely spook her. He didn’t want to undo the groundwork he’d just spent the last few hours laying down. He was going to have to wait. Tomorrow night, he’d find a way to get himself invited back to her place. Once he knew where she lived, he could return and nose around while she was at work.

      Chapter 5

      Despite the fact that it had been busy ever since they’d opened their doors this morning, Gina’s eyes darted toward the electronic doors when she head the tiny buzzer sound, announcing the entrance of a new customer. It was a woman in her late forties. The rise in adrenaline leveled off.

      This was stupid.

      She had a great many more important things on her mind than a good-looking man supposedly writing a screenplay about the massacre at Wounded Knee. A very good-looking man, her mind amended automatically and entirely against her will.

      “Next, please,” she called to the orderly line of people who stood behind the deep purple plush ropes strung up solely to keep them in their place.

      A heavyset man with an armload of books walked up, depositing them on the counter. Tilted, the books scattered every which way, mostly sprawling out on her side of the counter, some falling beneath. Offering a vague, sympathetic smile at the flustered man, Gina gathered the books up.

      For all she knew, Gina thought as she began ringing up the sale for the hapless customer, Ben’s story about needing to do research for his screenplay could have all been just an elaborate pickup line. When she’d turned him down for dinner, not once but twice, that might have been the end of it.

      Gina scanned two more books quickly, punching in the total, telling herself it was just as well that he hadn’t returned.

      No, it hadn’t been just about a pickup, she thought, still carrying on the internal debate. He’d sounded sincere. She knew it. Besides, he’d come to her rescue the first time she’d met him and he hadn’t tried to come on to her then. Sure he was sexy, but he didn’t seem to be deceitful. Maybe he was exactly what he seemed, an earnest dreamer pursuing his dream. An earnest, sweet, good-looking dreamer.

      Ben Underwood might be a dreamer, but she couldn’t be, Gina reminded herself, slipping all the books she’d just rung up into a shopping bag and then handing it to the man with a vague smile.

      “Have a nice day,” she told him. She was in no position to daydream like normal people. She wasn’t normal people. Not right now, at any rate. She was a woman on the run and she had to remember that.

      Maybe not, a small voice whispered within her. Maybe the running was finally over. Maybe the man who’d robbed her of so many nights’ sleep had decided she was too much trouble to pursue any further and had given up looking for her. Maybe she was finally safe.

      Safe.

      God, but she’d never realized how overwhelmingly seductive the four-letter word could be. Safe. Safe to go about her life doing everyday things, safe not to be constantly looking over her shoulder, wondering, worrying. Safe not to see shapes hidden in the shadows, afraid that she was being followed.

      The front door buzzer sounded. She lost her place in counting out the next customer’s change.

      “Sorry,” she murmured, beginning again.

      The man buying the massive cookbook looked at her as if she were incapable of counting beyond five. “Maybe I should have given you a charge card.”

      The slightly condescending tone and tolerant expression on his patrician face made her want to whip out her college diploma to show him that she was quite capable of conducting monetary transactions of any amount.

      A lot of good that would do, she realized ruefully. The name on the diploma didn’t match the one on her name tag.

      “Please come again,” she murmured as cheerfully as she could muster.

      The man mumbled something in response that was lost on her as she found herself looking up into eyes that were almost Wedgwood blue. Ben had come up on her blind side and was now leaning against the counter, blocking the next customer.

      “Hi, are we still on?”

      Was it possible for him to look better today than he had yesterday? Or was that just the self-imposed drought in her life that was making her suddenly thirsty? Thirsty for the companionship

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