LITMIR.BIZ

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can’t.” She kept right on talking, trying to stop the argument she knew Casey was putting together. “My house. My rules. No cops.” She couldn’t get a restraining order against a man whose name she didn’t even know, and it hadn’t helped her mother to have one anyway. Nor could she expect an officer to sit outside her house in case somebody tried to break in again. She was trained. She was strong. She was fearless. It was a trifecta she trusted.

      “You’re being foolish, Kris.” Lucas’s voice came from behind her, closer this time.

      Her skin chilled at the nickname in his deep voice, too much like the way her father used to say it. “It’s Kristin.” She turned to offer a half apology, to tell him he might not be a stalker but he definitely wasn’t her hero. The words never formed.

      He’d edged closer, a few feet away at the bottom of the steps, fully illuminated by the floodlights. Blood ran from the corner of his right eye, and a red spot marred his chin where a bruise would likely form tomorrow. He’d put himself in the line of fire...for her.

      She couldn’t yell at him then send him packing after he’d put himself between her and danger twice. Kristin hated herself for being soft. For noting the way his eyes had gold flecks in them, the way he stood like he had all the authority in the world, not with a challenge, but in a way that made her feel protected.

      It also made the guilt from accusing him twist even harder. That couldn’t be left out there, pulling tight between them. Kristin blew her bangs out of her face and stared at a spot on the fence over Lucas’s shoulder. “Listen. I’m sorry. What I said earlier... I know you’re not—”

      “I know.” Lucas didn’t even let her finish, probably understanding the way the unfamiliar apology stuck in her throat. He knew her too well, was probably nicer than she deserved.

      She sliced the air with her hands, helpless to hold on to her anger and the distance she desperately needed to put between herself and Lucas.

      Tomorrow. Tomorrow she could pull away, call a halt to this building friendship before the feelings grew until they scorched her into ashes. Before she turned into her mother and lost everything to a complete, emotion-fueled fall from grace. “Get inside before you bleed all over your shirt.”

      Near the door, Casey cleared her throat. “I’m going to go...” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, flustered by something Kristin couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Inside. Somewhere. And be...inside.” She slipped through the door and disappeared into the house, probably calling the police against Kristin’s wishes.

      Kristin sighed and looked down at Lucas, surrendering the fight. “I guess you’re going to tell me I should see the other guy, huh?”

      “It’s a wonder he was able to walk away,” Lucas said as he quirked a half smile, avoiding movement on the injured side of his face but lighting the eyes Kristin was trying hard not to notice. “You know, I had him till someone distracted me.”

      Kristin rolled her eyes and ignored the flicker of fear threatening to flame up. Regardless of anything else, someone had been in her backyard. But she was fearless, right? She flicked her hand toward the door. “Get in the house. And stop talking before I decide to bruise your other cheek.” She turned and headed for the door, her heart hammering.

      Letting Lucas Murphy in might be even more dangerous than any stranger trying to invade her home.

      * * *

      Lucas followed Kristin into the kitchen, clenching and unclenching his fists. He’d seen the fear flash on her face, understood better than anyone how it could toy with thoughts and make them completely whacked. There had been times when he’d felt that edge himself overseas, maybe even bordered a little on paranoid, particularly after one of their soldiers was killed by a sniper while on guard duty. But being on the receiving end of Kristin’s suspicion had been worse than any blow his opponent had thrown earlier.

      It still stung, even after her apology, something that had to be hard for her “no surrender” self. But as soon as she’d shown that small crack, she’d rebuilt the wall, acting once again like she could control the whole world.

      She walked ahead of him, not waiting to see if he followed, her posture arrow straight. Her attitude made Lucas want to grab her shoulder and stop her, to turn her around and force a confrontation, to ask if she really had so little trust in him.

      Except, really, what right did he have to ask? Whether it hurt or not, in her position he might have fired off some of the same questions. He surveyed the kitchen, searching for something, anything to focus on long enough to stem the chaos roiling in his head.

      The control-freak side of Kristin came out in her home. The polished hardwood was spotless. The dark wood cabinets harbored no dust. No photos, no knickknacks, nothing broke the smooth surface of the marble counter. Everything had a place. From what little she’d told him on their morning runs, he knew her childhood had been chaotic, and the early chaos came out in her need for strict order as an adult.

      She’d have made an amazing military officer.

      He inhaled deeply, centering himself in where he was. The place had a scent of its own. Not like some houses, all cinnamon and spice. More like outdoors and oranges. Probably from the bowl she kept on the table. Every time they worked out together, she’d dig into an orange after, always offering him one before she slipped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table to peel the fruit and savor it like other women savored chocolate.

      He’d never been a fan of oranges before, but lately he’d acquired the taste.

      Lucas shut the door behind him, wanting to sink into one of the chairs at the small breakfast table where they’d shared a handful of meals after workouts. The woman might be tough as nails, but she could cook like nobody’s business. Probably because her inner control freak didn’t trust anyone else to touch her food.

      Kristin passed the small table in the breakfast nook and pulled one of the black wood chairs out. “Have a seat and we’ll see if we can make you look less like you went a few rounds in the Ultimate Fighting Championship.” Without looking back to make sure he obeyed, she charged through the arched doorway to the dining room.

      Lucas could hear her footsteps on the stairs, either to find a first-aid kit or to break the phone he was pretty certain Casey was using to call the police.

      Dropping into the chair, Lucas stared at the door. Whoever had come after Kristin at Smith Lake today had likely been watching her, had known which car was hers and had taken the opportunity to steal her keys and her address, probably off her registration. The scum had liked what he’d seen and had decided to come after it in spite of the fact Casey’s Jeep in the driveway proved Kristin wasn’t home alone.

      The thought of someone hurting Kristin made him run hot with anger and cold with fear. Even though Travis tried to imply differently, Kristin was a friend, and Lucas would do what he had to do to protect her.

      He pressed a finger gingerly to his cheek. Even if he had to do battle with shadowy men in her backyard.

      Kristin came into the room and dropped a first-aid kit onto the table, then laid a damp washcloth beside it. She pulled out the chair across from him and sat, tipping her head toward the items in front of him. “You look a mess. The cut by your eye you can probably camouflage a little bit. You’re lucky the guy didn’t leave a worse mark on your chin. Not sure how your chain of command would like you looking like the loser in a fistfight.”

      His chain of command was a worry for tomorrow. “Loser? I’m pretty sure I look like the winner.” He grabbed the washcloth and weighed it in his hand, unable to help himself. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this for me? Like in the movies? Help the poor hero who was injured when he managed to—”

      “Don’t push it.” She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, the words harsh but her blue eyes not backing up the sass.

      Those eyes. He dropped his to the first-aid kit. It would be way too easy to stare into hers when he knew better. The way she leveled those

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