McIver's Mission (15 page)

"You're not my usual type," he agreed, his
tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather forecast.

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn't respond to his bait.

"What is my usual type?" he asked for her,
in the same pleasant tone.

She picked up her coffee, sipped again, apparently
uninterested. But he knew better.

He tilted his head, studying her. "Petite, blond,
compliant. Someone who reads Stephen King and has more in her refrigerator than
half a dozen cups of yogurt and diet cola."

"Everything I'm not?" Arden guessed, drawn
into the discussion.

"Something like that."

"So why are you here with me?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I can't resist a
challenge."

"Is that what I am?" She raised an eyebrow.
"A challenge? Is there a pool in the courthouse to see if you can thaw the
ice princess?"

"I don't know if there's a poor or not," he
told her. "But I know that anyone who uses that name doesn't have a clue
about you."

"And you do?"

"I think I'm starting to."

She dropped her eyes. "You're wasting your time
if you think I'm going to fall into bed with you. I've already told you that I
have no interest in being the latest in your long string of playthings."

"That's not what I want, either."

She stole the last piece of bacon from his plate,
nibbled on it.

"Maybe it started out that way," he
admitted. "But lately I've been starting to think you might be the
one."

Her eyes widened a fraction, and he was sure he detected
a hint of panic in their depths. "The one what?"

"The right person at the right time."

She shook her head, as if to deny even the
possibility.

Shaun smiled, but didn't push. He'd said enough for
one day, and he didn't want to scare her off. She'd figure it out for herself,
when she was ready.

"Let's get you to the office," he said
instead.

* * *

Arden
pushed open the door of the little café and stepped into the cool morning.
There was a bite in the air, as if winter was already on the doorstep and it
wasn't even the middle of October. Shaun took her hand in his, linked their
fingers together. The gesture struck her as strangely intimate, but
comfortable, as if it was perfectly natural for the two of them to be walking
along Court Street holding hands.

She was preoccupied with their breakfast conversation
throughout the walk to her office. She didn't believe that Shaun's interest in
her was anything more than a passing attraction. He'd admitted that she wasn't
his type. She didn't imagine he'd want to spend the next couple of months with
her, never mind the rest of his life.

And she wasn't in the market for a relationship,
anyway. She wasn't comfortable with intimacy and she wouldn't set herself up
for more rejection and heartache. She knew that Shaun McIver could break her
heart, because as much as she tried to hold back, to distance herself from her
feelings, she was already starting to fall for him. But as long as she was
aware of that fact, she felt confident that she was still in control and could
prevent herself from getting in too deep.

She unlocked the door of her office and disengaged the
alarm. Shaun was right behind her as she walked through the reception area. The
ever-efficient Rebecca had stacked the files for her morning appointments on
her desk before leaving the night before.

Arden gestured to the pile. "I have to review
these before my clients come in."

"Are you trying to get rid of me again?"

She nodded.

"All right, I'll go. I have to put the final
touches on those bookcases, anyway." But he stepped closer to her, framed
her face in his palms.

She knew he was going to kiss her again, and the
anticipation was almost as devastating as the gentle pressure of his mouth on
hers. Her eyelids lowered as his lips cruised over hers, slowly, expertly,
completely seducing her.

She gave up trying to fight the attraction between
them. What was the point in reciting words of denial when this was what she
wanted? She knew it wasn't smart, she knew it might be a big mistake, but right
now this was what she wanted.

She wound her arms around his neck, buried her fingers
in his hair.

Maybe he wasn't so crazy to think that they might be
able to build something special. Maybe this was what she'd been looking for,
what she needed. Maybe…

"Arden, I have some questions about the
separation agreement you asked me to— Oops." Marcy cleared her throat as
Arden and Shaun sprang apart. Her lips curved. "Sorry."

Arden tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and
stepped behind her desk, needing to put some physical distance between her and
Shaun, and to remind herself that this was her office. She was a lawyer, for
God's sake, not some hormonal teenager who couldn't control her most basic
urges. "Mr. McIver was just leaving."

Shaun waited a beat, as if he wanted to take issue
with her dismissal. But then he nodded. "I'll talk to you later,
Arden."

"Okay." But she didn't look up from the
appointment list on her desk.

"I am so sorry," Marcy said again, after
Shaun had gone.

"There's no reason for you to apologize," Arden
assured her. "This is a law office and what you walked in on was
inappropriate and—"

"Arden," Marcy interrupted. "It's
your
office. You can have sex on the desk if you want." She grinned. "But
you might consider locking the door first."

Arden managed a smile in response to the gentle
teasing. "I don't do things like that."

"Why not, if that gorgeous hunk of a man is
willing? And he seemed, from this perspective, very willing."

Arden felt the color in her cheeks deepen. "Shaun
and I are friends." She needed to remind herself, as much as Marcy, of
that fact.

"Yes, you did look rather … friendly."

"You had a question about the
Randalls
'
separation agreement?" She needed to get things back on track. She'd spent
enough time digressing and daydreaming about Shaun McIver.

Marcy passed her the thick document she'd drafted.
"Mr. Randall hasn't given us all the financial information we need, and
his company won't provide us with a pension valuation without a signed release
from the employee."

"Have you contacted his lawyer?" Arden
asked.

"I've tried," Marcy told her. "I've
left no less than a dozen messages over the past week. Mr. O'Connor always
seems to be in court or with a client."

"Of course he is," Arden agreed testily.
"And he wouldn't set foot in his office on a Saturday." She dropped
the document on top of the pile of files. "I'll give him a call first
thing Monday morning. If we don't hear back from him, we'll go to court to get
a compliance order."

"Do you want me to draft the documents?"

Arden shook her head. "No, he'll comply. He's
just jerking you around because he thinks he can."

"I wish I could have handled it," Marcy
said. "I'm not sure I've been all that much help to you."

Arden glanced up, surprised by the hesitant
uncertainty she heard in her associate's voice. "You're kidding,
right?"

Marcy shrugged. "You seem to spend so much time
explaining things to me, I often wonder if it wouldn't be easier for you to do
them yourself."

"Of course not," Arden denied, feeling
guilty that she hadn't recognized Marcy's need for reassurance. The younger
woman seemed so willing and capable, and Arden had been so preoccupied with
everything going on in her own life, she'd never considered that Marcy might be
nervous about the new job. "Not only have you been a big help to me,
you're already building up your own clientele."

Marcy offered a tentative smile. "I love the work
I'm doing."

"Good. Because now that you've been here a few
months, I'm not sure how I ever handled things without you."

The smile widened a little. "Thanks."

"But if you don't butt out of my personal life,
I'm going to have to fire you."

Chapter
9

«
^
»

"
T
his
is getting to be a habit," Lieutenant Creighton said when he strolled into
Arden's office Tuesday afternoon.

Arden offered a weak smile. "I wouldn't mind if
it stopped."

"I know." He lowered himself into one of the
chairs across from her desk, his broad frame dwarfing the chair. "Where's
the letter?"

Arden lifted her briefcase onto the desk, flipped the
locks open. She lifted the envelope by one corner, hated that her, fingers
weren't steady.

"I just got this one," she said.

"When?"

She walked over to the bookshelf, wishing she could as
easily distance herself from the letter she'd handed over, and crossed her arms
under her breasts. "It was in my car when I got out of court this
afternoon."

"
In
your car?"

She nodded.

"Was your vehicle locked?"

She nodded again, swallowed uneasily. "Always."

Creighton picked up the letter opener from her desk
and sliced through the envelope. Unable to stop herself, Arden stepped toward
him as he drew the single page out and unfolded it.

"THE DAY OF RECKONING IS NEAR."

Arden shivered, unnerved by the cryptic message
spelled out in bold red letters.

"It sounds like he's getting ready to make a
move," Creighton said.

As far as she was concerned, he'd already made a move.
He'd been in her office, her apartment, and now, her car. He'd made it clear
that he could get to her, he was just taking his time about it. She felt so
victimized and vulnerable already, she almost wished he would come after her.
Whatever he did couldn't be worse than the waiting and the wondering. But she
knew that wasn't true, either, and she felt the helplessness overwhelm her. She
didn't know how to deal with this nameless, faceless threat; she couldn't
combat an enemy she didn't know.

"Am I just supposed to wait for that to
happen?"

"I've requested round-the-clock surveillance, but
the captain won't approve it until we know for sure that this isn't some wacko
who gets his kicks sending threatening letters."

Arden nodded. She understood that with recent cuts to
the police budget they didn't have the manpower to spare to appease her hysteria,
and she had received meaningless threats before. But her gut told her that this
time it was different. This time it was real.

"I wish you'd reconsider your decision to stay at
your apartment. I don't think you should be alone."

"I'm not going to let him scare me out of my
home." More important, she wouldn't subject anyone else to the potential
danger.

"You should be scared," Creighton told her.

"You just said it might be some harmless
wacko."

"No, I said my captain thinks it might be."

"What do you think?"

He hesitated briefly, then pinned her with his steely
blue gaze. "I think he's dangerous."

While she appreciated his honesty, it did nothing to
appease the tension inside her.

His words echoed in her mind, and the tension remained
hours later when she returned to her empty apartment. Alone.

When Shaun called, as he seemed to be in the habit of
doing every night now, she was absurdly relieved just to hear the sound of his
voice. It made her wonder, not for the first time, if Shaun McIver wasn't
potentially more dangerous to her peace of mind than some anonymous pen pal.
Because just the sound of his voice, the deep, soothing timbre of it, made her
forget about everything but him. The realization was more than a little
disconcerting. She was, after all, an independent and self-sufficient career
woman. She took care of herself—she always had. She didn't need anyone.

Except she wasn't entirely convinced of that anymore.
She felt so helpless and out of control, and she wanted to lean on somebody. On
Shaun.

"How was your day?" he asked.

She shook off the memory of the letter and Lieutenant
Creighton's visit and everything else and allowed herself to be soothed by his
voice. "Fine."

"Did you think about me?"

"Not at all," she lied.

"Yeah." She could hear the smile in his
voice, felt her own lips curve in response. "That's what I figured."

"How was your day?" she asked.

"The same," he said. "Except that I've
been thinking about you."

"Shaun." She tried to infuse a note of
warning into her voice.

"What?"

"We're just friends."

"Of course," he agreed. "Do you have
any plans for tomorrow night?"