30 Seconds (3 page)

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I can’t whistle.”

“Seriously? All you have to do is put your lips together and blow.”

She sent him a cool look. “When I do that, I don’t create music.”

Blake threw his head back and laughed.

Suddenly, she had the urge to rip out those cute little curls. “Did
you
play a sport in college?”

“I didn’t go to college. I joined the police force immediately. But I did play football when I was in high school.”

“I figured. You have a good tackle.” She saw his hands tighten on the wheel and was satisfied that she hit a nerve.

The rest of the way to wherever-in-the-hell-he-was-taking-her was shrouded in complete silence, except for the scream of rock.

Thank God for rockers
. But when she realized the car was traveling down a snowy road, her hands went cold. She looked about anxiously as she played out dreadful scenarios in her head. A few houses were spread far apart on the road. Snow blanketed the roofs and covered the driveways, because all the husbands were still in bed, snug and warm with their wives.

Blake drove the car deeper and deeper until no other houses were in the area.

Her heart punched her chest, like an angry boxer.
He’s taking you down here to kill you
.

Blake’s not a cop.
He’s one of those lowlifes who pretend to be police officers so they can coax stupid women into their cars to rape and kill them.
And she couldn’t believe she was one of those stupid women.

It was probably all a set up. I bet the men who raided my apartment are his friends. Why, oh, why didn’t I put on the defenseless face of a damsel in distress and beg the big, black man for help?

He pulled the car up a snowy driveway, and she eyed the white house with dark green trim the exact color of Blake’s eyes. The house looked inviting as though it wanted to leap off its concrete base and hug her with its shutters, but that didn’t stop all the blood from rushing from her face.

“This is your place, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit
.

“But I’d prefer if you’d call it protective custody.”

“I am not going in there,” she objected and crossed her arms defiantly.

“Well, you can live out your protective custody in my car if you’d prefer, but you’ll have to do it without heat.” He turned off the engine.

She felt Jack Frost nip her skin instantly. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“Hopefully not long. My boys will be hunting down the men who are—”

“Hunting me?”

He looked at her. “I swear I won’t hurt you. I want you to believe that.”

She met his eyes. They were demanding but gentle.

He got out of the car and opened the back door, but she didn’t move. Then he took his gun out of its holster.

This is it
.
I’m going to die. Or maybe I’ll be one of those miraculous cases where the victim gets shot in the head and lives to tell the tale.

“Here.” He put the gun on the seat next to her. “You can hold onto that.”

Now that she did not expect. A police officer never gives his gun to a civilian. Never! And yet Blake told her to take his.

“Go on.” His eyes told her it was okay. “I don’t want you looking at me out of the corner of your eye every minute you’re here, so I’m letting you hold on to it for reassurance.” He took two steps in retreat. “Take your time.”

She scrutinized the gun lying on the beige seat. Outside, Blake rocked on his feet, whistling. The bastard was actually whistling. And what was worse was the fact he was good enough she could recognize the song—“Stairway to Heaven.”

Muttering between her teeth, she picked up the gun and slid out. She sent Blake a steely look. “I don’t intend on using this,” she informed him, “but if I have to, I know how to cut a twelve inch incision with perfect precision.”

“Glad to hear, but that’s not a scalpel you’re holding. That’s a gun.”

“I know,” she growled. “I meant if I have to use this thing I have a steady hand and excellent aim.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“It’s not a warning. It’s a fact.”

“Mmm.” He walked around her and she followed him to the door reluctantly.

Inside, the air was toasty and smelled like firewood and musk. The living room was spacious and cozy with a big, white couch and a brick fireplace. The curtains were green, the walls a pretty beige with subtle hints of peach.

Blake went to the fireplace, tossed in a few logs, and started the fire. She sat next to the flames to absorb the warmth.

After a moment, Blake reached out and rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “You have dirt on your cheek,” he told her. “I’m sure you’ll want to take a shower. I’ll show you to the bathroom.”

She followed him upstairs to his bedroom. She tried not to look at her surroundings but she noticed the walls were the same color as naked bodies. The rest of the room was just as sensuous. His bed was virginal white, the mahogany headboard had bars, and a mirror was on the opposite wall.

Blake opened the bathroom door and stepped aside. She wandered in. “Oh my gosh!” Her excited statement echoed inside the bathroom.

“Problem?”

“Nope, no, not at all,” she said over her shoulder and walked to the bathtub.
Holy cow! An elephant can fit inside this tub!
In the tub, she would be able to fully submerge, lie at the bottom, and make a water angel. She smiled joyously.

“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs,” he told her and shut the door.

After locking the door, she filled the tub with hot water, not worrying an inch about Blake’s water bill, and sank into it. After a moment or two of savoring the feel of the hot water on her exhausted body, she let the water lap over her head and made a few angels with her limbs. Waves licked the rim of the white porcelain and she resurfaced laughing.

Twenty minutes later, she came downstairs in pink velvet sweatpants and a matching hoodie. She had pulled her hair into a wet bun, her cheeks were clean and rosy.

She found Blake in the kitchen. He had slipped out of the black trench coat and was wearing a long sleeved black shirt that hugged his muscles beautifully. She watched him, smiling to herself as he stirred a pot and flipped something in a skillet.

She set his Glock on the stand outside the kitchen and walked in. “Hi.”

Blake peered over his shoulder, starring for a fraction too long before he turned to the stove. “No gun?”

“I figured if you wanted to cause me harm, you sure as hell wouldn’t be cooking for me.”

He shrugged as he continued to stir. “I thought you’d be hungry.”

“You thought right. The last time I had something to eat was a bagel at one o’clock this morning.”

“Then you’re starving.”

She chuckled. “I am.”

He motioned for her to sit at the table. “I don’t know what you like so I made everything I know how to cook.” He set a plate on the green placemat in front of her. She looked at it and grinned. He had made a tomato grilled cheese sandwich, homemade mashed potatoes, and spaghetti.

Blake sat across from her with his own plate and looked at her. “Why are you smiling at the food?”

“No reason,” she insisted. “It’s exactly what I would’ve made.”

“Is that bad?”

She shook her head. “No. It’s good. It looks good.” With that said, she dug right into her food. The cheese was gooey, the mashed potatoes were excellent, and the spaghetti tasted like it came from an Italian restaurant. And she ate every last bite. “Those mashed potatoes were fabulous,” she claimed.

“My grandmother’s recipe. It was the only thing she was able to teach me how to cook. My sister is the chef in the family. That spaghetti sauce was hers.”

“She makes her own spaghetti sauce?”

“She uses it in her restaurant and sells it to her customers. She gives me a couple of jars every month.”

“Tell your sister she makes the best damn sauce I’ve ever tasted. And that grilled cheese was also the best I ever had. No lie.”

“Well now, I created the grilled cheese on my own.” He picked up the plates and set them in the sink. “I’m going to go up and take a shower. The door will be unlocked if you need me.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know why the little detail about the door being unlocked while he was wet and naked had her heart racing.

Oh, wait, that’s why!

Chapter Three

“Dani…Dani, wake up.”

Dani’s eyes sprang open and she started to bolt upright, but gentle hands stilled her. “It’s okay. It’s Officer Herro. Blake.” She laid her cheek back on the couch cushion in relief. She wasn’t even aware she had fallen asleep.

“Have they come for me?” she asked, her voice drenched with sleep.

“No, you’re safe here.”

“Then why’d you wake me?”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the couch. There’s a bed upstairs. I would’ve carried you but I didn’t want you to wake up in my arms and claw me to death.”

She nearly laughed except she saw the red marks on his neck. She ran a fingertip down a long, irritated scratch. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was self-defense.”

Behind him, she could see the gun where she had left it. He gave it to her so she’d trust him, but also if she ever thought she needed it for protection.

She released a yawn and Blake took her hand. “Come on.” She shuffled along beside him and let him usher her up the stairs, a hand on her lower back. Her eyes were drooping when they came to Blake’s bedroom. She didn’t even know it until she caught a glimpse of the white bed between her falling eyelids.

She turned abruptly.

“Where are you going?” he said.

“To sleep.” She started for the door but he shifted in front of her.

“You can sleep in my bed.”

She sent him a withering look. “If you think I’m going to tumble into your bed because you saved my life, which has yet to be determined, you’d be smart to think again.”

Blake merely lifted a hand. “I’m sleeping on the couch,” he answered dryly.

“No,” she said. He raised an eyebrow in question. “I don’t want to take your bed.”

“You’re not. I’m letting you.”

“We’re both adults,” she pointed out. “I’m sure we can share the same bed.”

Blake shook his head. “I’m a cop. There are rules.”

“I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed. I was comfortable enough on the couch.” She would’ve slept on the floor; that was how exhausted she was.

“I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.”

“It’s your bed,” she shouted stubbornly.

“And I want you in it!” The silence that followed laughed at them. “I don’t want you on the damn couch,” he finally said.

“Okay. Fine.” She sank onto the bed and the white comforter puffed around her. She bounced, testing the firmness of the mattress. “Comfy.”

Blake set his gun on the nightstand. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned at him when he glared at her. “Goodnight.”

“Actually, it’s ten in the morning.”

“Whatever.”

****

She slept like the dead for the rest of the day. In fact, she slept so well she didn’t hear her beeper go off until the sixth urgent attempt. Her hand crawled over to the nightstand toward the beeper and touched the gun. She sat up so fast her heart stopped. After one thoughtless moment, her heart punched her chest and she remembered everything.

She rubbed her tired eyes as the beeper screamed at her again. She picked it up and cursed. It was the E.R. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and was happy to see Blake had a phone right next to his bed. She picked it up to call the hospital where she worked.

Deanna, her friend and a nurse, answered the other line. “Hey, it’s Hart. What’s going on?”

“It’s about damn time! I’ve paged you five times. Cory paged you once. Even Norland paged you.”

Dani winced. Norland was the Chief of Surgery. Her fellow resident paging her was one thing, but the Chief of Surgery? That was never good!

“What’s going on,” she repeated.

“There’s been a car accident on the freeway. The police don’t even know how many cars are involved in the pileup and we’re the closest hospital.”

“Of course we are.”

“You better get here now!” Deanna hung up before Dani could explain she was being detained by a cop and couldn’t leave. But a pileup…?

She dialed a taxi service, told them the street name from the stop sign she saw, the numbers on the front of the house, and gave the strict instructions not to honk. She would be outside waiting. She dressed quickly and snuck down stairs on her tiptoes with her breath captive in her lungs. But she couldn’t just leave. Blake was a cop and was likely to panic. So she did the reasonable thing and left him a note on the coffee table.

Before she left, she paused by the couch to study Blake while he slept. He wore soft gray flannel pants and a white shirt, the cotton fibers molding his toned body. It was enough to make her want to curl up right next to him, to feel his taut muscles against her.