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  “I warned you we couldn’t act on it,” Molly answered.

  “Apparently we could and did. You want an apology?”

  Thank heaven he hadn’t smiled. If he had, Molly thought she might have to smack him. “Not necessary. Just see that it doesn’t happen again.” She knew she sounded grumpy and mean, but she was trying to make a point here. She was not going to have an affair with him.

  He shrugged one shoulder. “Your mother told me that I should back off.”

  “She did what?”

  He nodded. “Brenda worries about you. Thinks I might be…‘playing’ was the word I believe she used.”

  Molly rolled her eyes and pounded her fists on her legs. What was she supposed to do now? If she railed about her mother’s ridiculous warning, it might make him think she disagreed with her, that she thought he shouldn’t back off and that he wasn’t playing at all.

  “Are you playing?” she asked before thinking.

  Damien looked at her then, raised one brow and then fastened his gaze back on the road. “No.”

  Well, what did he mean by that? He was serious about her, or serious about sex? She did think this time and kept her mouth shut. For miles they rode in silence so thick she could hardly breathe in it.

  Molly couldn’t stand it. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.” She was, but her life was too messed up at the moment to add any more tangles. “I just can’t.”

  “You are that certain you know what I want?” he asked. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure myself.”

  Oh, she knew all right. A chuckle escaped before she could contain it.

  “No, it’s true,” he argued. “It’s probably not you at all, just what you represent.”

  “Oh, well, great! That does wonders for my ego. And it was none too healthy to begin with, thank you very much.” She ran a hand through her unruly hair and tugged on it. He was enough to make her pull it out by the roots.

  The expression on his face was a mixture of embarrassment and contrition, new for him.

  He pulled the car over, put it in Park and turned to her. “Look, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It’s just that you are a part of something I’ve never experienced, a way of life I’m not familiar with. You and the child and your mother have something…”

  “A dysfunctional family? And that appeals to you?”

  “Don’t,” he ordered. “Do not make fun of what you have together. You can’t know—”

  “Oh, yes, I do know! My father left us when I was too young to remember him. Mama had to work and found so little time to spend with us, Ford and I were absolutely wild, the scourges of the neighborhood. And it wasn’t a very nice neighborhood, I can tell you! We fought the world and fought each other.”

  “Sounds wonderful,” he said.

  Molly shrugged. “Then I up and married the scum of the earth who got me pregnant and beat me silly. They thought that was my fault, and maybe it was. It’s a flaming wonder any of us even speak to each other.”

  The sadness in his eyes stopped her ranting. “But you love one another,” he said quietly. “Don’t you?”

  She scoffed at the question. “Well, yeah, but what’s so unusual about that? Your family has to love you. It’s not like they have a choice.”

  Damien slowly shook his head. He remained silent as he turned away from her and started the car again.

  Traffic was almost nonexistent in the early hours of the morning. It was almost as if another Nashville existed after late-night revelers went home and the workforce hit the roads just before dawn. Molly thought Damien Perry fit this time of day, especially after what he’d just intimated.

  She had suspected from the first that he was a loner, but she’d thought it was by choice. Now she felt pretty sure he knew no other way to be. This realization was not going to help her resolve to keep him at a distance.

  Damien needed loving more than any person she’d ever known. Molly only wished she could be the one to provide it, but knew she wasn’t equipped to handle that. Sex wouldn’t be enough and would only complicate matters between them.

  She was already infatuated with him and had been since she’d met him in the hospital in Memphis. Those feelings he’d awakened in her had a lot to do with her calling him here to help her, though she hadn’t admitted it to herself at the time.

  Infatuation, she could handle. She knew that would play out, like a teenage crush on a teacher or a rock star. But to be responsible for a man’s well-being and happiness, to put his before her own and care about him above anything or anybody. That, she could never do again.

  A simple affair was out of the question. Anything she started with Damien could never be that uncomplicated. Not for her, anyway.

  She would be taking a terrible risk if she let herself love him. Damien was too perfect, too self-contained, and way too sophisticated for a woman like herself. Maybe she had piqued his interest because she was so different from the other women he knew. But when the new wore off their relationship—and that probably wouldn’t take long—she could just picture what would happen.

  Damien would never raise a hand to her, she knew that without a doubt. He wouldn’t hurt her intentionally in any way. However, Molly also realized that his leaving her while she loved him would destroy her more completely than the worst kind of violence.

  “All I want to do is get on with my life without being afraid,” she said to herself, not even realizing she had spoken aloud until he answered.

  “I’ll see to it,” he promised quietly. “I won’t leave until you have nothing left to worry about.”

  Molly turned her face to the window so he wouldn’t see the tears. Would there ever come a day when she wouldn’t worry about him?

  Well before dawn, Damien pulled into Molly’s driveway and parked. Streetlights shone over the sleeping neighborhood. Peaceful suburbia, an alien land he had seldom observed.

  He leaned back and released his seat belt, but made no move to leave the car. “Why don’t you wait here while I go in and make a quick sweep? He thinks we’re out of town, so I don’t believe you have anything to worry about. This is just a precaution.”

  She didn’t look at him, just nodded.

  Damien got out, flipped the lock button and gently closed the car door. With expertise that had become automatic over the years, he did a thorough check of the yard and then the house itself.

  There was no indication that anything had been disturbed since they’d left. Gun holstered, he turned on the living room light, opened the front door and beckoned Molly inside.

  He watched her get out of the car and admired her athletic grace as she closed the distance between them. Molly’s body looked very feminine, but also exhibited a certain quality of boldness in the way she moved. A confidence he would not have expected in someone who had suffered what she had.

  When she reached him, he took her hand and pulled her inside the house. “You need sleep,” he told her as he closed the door and locked it. There were circles beneath her eyes and she looked pale.

  “What about you?” she asked. “You haven’t slept, either.”

  That warm feeling again. She cared that he was tired. “I’m fine. Go to bed, Molly.”

  Apparently, she was too tired to argue with him.

  Damien kept watch, dozing occasionally, rousing at every sound, until she awoke five hours later, around nine o’clock in the morning.

  He listened to the distant sound of the shower, heard dresser drawers open and close and realized how much he looked forward to seeing her, spending the day with her.

  Suddenly, she was there in the doorway, a tentative smile on her face, the shadows of fatigue either faded or concealed with light makeup.

  She wore a rather fluid ensemble consisting of a cream silk top, long unstructured jacket and drawstring slacks the shade of dark toast.

  Her long auburn curls, artfully disarranged, were caught up on one side with a tortoiseshell clip. Gold loops and herringbone ch
ain enhanced her ears and throat. She could have graced a runway for the best of designers.

  Had she dressed this way for him? “Are we going somewhere?” he asked. “You look wonderful, by the way.”

  Her cheeks reddened beneath the blush she’d applied and she wrecked her graceful pose by wringing her hands and shifting from one foot to the other. He thought it endearing.

  “This is…just in case we do decide to go out. Should we?” she asked.

  Damien smiled, unable to resist making her pinken again. “Oh, absolutely. It would be selfish to keep you all to myself. Everyone in Nashville should see you looking like that. I have to say, you are a vision.”

  She made a comical grimace. “And I have to get some coffee in you. Sleep deprivation’s making you hallucinate.”

  Damien laughed and shook his head. “Go make it then, while I shower and shave. Ten minutes, okay?”

  He’d just reached the guest room and unzipped his suitcase when he heard her cry out. Tearing down the hallway, he met her running through the kitchen door. She threw herself into his arms.

  Damien grasped her tightly and shifted her to one side, out of the way of his weapon. “What is it? What’s happened?” he asked when he could see no apparent cause for her terror.

  “Poison!” she gasped in a desperate whisper. “Rat poison!”

  “In what? Where?” he demanded, lowering the pistol.

  Molly pushed away from him, breaking his hold, and grabbed his hand. She drew him into the kitchen and pointed to the open cabinet over the coffee maker.

  “There!” she said, pointing to a black and yellow box, open at one corner, sitting among the boxes of foodstuffs. “That shouldn’t be there!”

  “Where did you have it before?”

  “I didn’t!” she exclaimed. “At least I don’t think we ever bought any. If it was anywhere on the premises, it would have been secured in the storage room at the back of the garage. He brought it in and put it here, I know he did.”

  “When, do you think?” Damien asked.

  She threw up her arms and sighed. “Last night, I guess. It wasn’t there yesterday.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked, and watched as she thought back.

  “No!” she admitted finally, her eyes round with surprise. For a moment, she pressed the fingertips of one hand to her lips.

  “The coffee canister was empty this morning and that’s why I opened the cabinet. For a fresh package. Yesterday I don’t think I looked in there at all. But it had to be last night. Before that, I was here every single night. If he had come in during the day, he would have risked being seen.”

  Her worried gaze flew to the strange box, an obvious taunt, and maybe an outright threat. “It’s open, Damien. You don’t think…”

  Damien exhaled in disgust and frustration. “I don’t think we’ll be eating or drinking anything with a seal broken. Question is, how did he get in? I saw no sign of tampering with the locks. Who else has a key?”

  “Only Mama and Ford. I saw hers on her key ring. But Ford and Mary might have…”

  “Left his car keys at home when they flew to Europe?” he guessed. “Makes sense they would take a taxi or arrange a ride to the airport to avoid the parking charges.”

  Molly looked up at him. “They live in an old colonial way out in the county. The place has scads of windows and would be easy to break into. Ford’s no slouch when it comes to security systems, but nothing’s foolproof. Jack could have picked up a few tricks the last couple of years, considering where he spent them.”

  Damien nodded. “I would bet he’s learned a few things. And you can be sure he covered his tracks, wore gloves, made an impression of the key and then left it where he found it. Must have figured a way to deactivate your security alarm. Unfortunately, it’s not all that difficult if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Can you do that?”

  Damien nodded as he glanced up at the box of rat poison and frowned. “I doubt there’ll be any prints to tie him to this, but let’s report it, just for the record.” He picked up the phone.

  Half an hour later, a squad car pulled in and parked behind the Lexus. Damien dropped the curtain back into place and turned to Molly. “Let’s not reveal who I work for.”

  “Why can’t we tell him?” she asked, glancing from him to the front door and back again. “Wouldn’t that help?”

  He shook his head. “The locals might get a bit antsy if they think a Fed’s encroaching on their territory. Can’t blame them, really. Aside from that, word does get around. If Jensen finds out who I am, he might simply back off until I leave and then begin again,” he explained, then nodded toward the entry. “Let’s get on with this.”

  Molly opened the door. “Thank you for responding so soon, Officer Sharps.”

  “Ms. Jensen. Always a pleasure, ma’am. Got another problem, I see.”

  “Isn’t your partner coming inside?” Molly asked, glancing toward the squad car. Through the window Damien could see the other officer sitting in the vehicle, thumbing the pages of a paperback.

  “No ma’am. I don’t think we’ll need him.”

  His tone was pure condescension. Molly must have dealt with this guy before.

  The young policeman squinted down at the clipboard he carried and then raked Molly with an appreciative gaze. Damien didn’t much blame him for that, but neither did he like it.

  “You called about a possible breakin,” Sharps said. “Just what did you mean by possible?”

  She backed up and gestured for him to come inside, which he did, removing his cap and sticking it under his arm.

  “It wasn’t precisely a breakin,” Molly admitted. “I think it was my ex-husband who probably used a key he’s not supposed to have.”

  “Uh-huh,” the cop mumbled, smiling and tapping his pen on the clipboard. “Stole the key?”

  “I don’t know,” Molly admitted. “All I know is that he’s still harassing me, and that he was here while I was out. He left something in my kitchen cabinet.”

  “I see. And did he phone you and tell you where to find it?” The cop wore a look of amusement now. “Or has he stopped calling and started leaving you groceries?”

  Molly glared. If looks could kill, Sharps would have died on the spot. “He called three times the day before yesterday,” she informed him.

  “Sure it was him?” The pen tapped again. “He spoke to you this time?”

  “No, but who else would it be?” she asked through gritted teeth.

  “We suggested before that you get an unlisted number,” he reminded her a little impatiently.

  “I can’t,” Molly argued. “It’s on all my business cards. Prospective clients couldn’t reach me if I changed it.”

  “Mmm-hmm, so you said. And just how are you involved with all this, sir?” he asked as if noticing Damien for the first time.

  “D. J. Perry,” Damien said by way of introducing himself. “I was here when Ms. Jensen discovered the threat.”

  “And just what is this alleged threat, ma’am?” Sharps asked her. “You want to show me?”

  Molly strode to the kitchen. Damien could see her exasperation building on itself by the second.

  Sharps followed her at a leisurely pace and Damien brought up the rear, interested in exactly how she would handle the situation. He hoped she kept a lid on her temper, but that didn’t look too likely if Sharps kept pushing her buttons.

  “There!” she exclaimed, pointing to the box of poison. “He left that right there, opened!”

  The cop shook his head and probably would have scratched his buzz cut if his hands hadn’t been occupied with the clipboard and pen. “Did he actually put poison in anything?” he asked.

  Molly took a tortured breath, crossed her arms over her chest, and began tapping her fingers. “Well, we don’t know yet until we eat something,” she answered sweetly.

  Sharps laughed and pointed at her with his pen. “Good one!”

  Damien decided he�
�d better step in before she brained the fool. It shouldn’t be difficult to use Sharps’s obvious youth and inexperience to their advantage. This was no jaded cop with years on the street, he only liked pretending he was.

  Damien figured the attitude toward Molly was one the rookie had picked up from one of the veterans on the force. The young ones were usually too gung-ho in a situation like this.

  “Officer, we realize you can’t make an arrest based on this. Ms. Jensen only wants the complaint listed in your files.”

  “At the very least!” Molly added, shifting with impatience.

  Damien shot her a warning look the cop couldn’t see and quickly continued his appeal. “And maybe you could investigate a little while you’re at it.” He shrugged slightly. “If you want to help, that is. If you don’t, we’d like you to write that down on your report for later reference, as well, that you responded to the call, but found an inquiry unnecessary.”

  “What for?”

  “So her family can sue if they happen to have cause.”

  “What do you mean, sue?” the cop asked warily.

  Damien explained patiently. “In the event her ex-husband—who abused her when they were married and has been harassing her since he served time for it—follows through with his threats and is successful in doing her harm. You could be charged with failure to assess the threat properly.”

  “But there’s no B and E here. No threat as far as I can see, and no proof at all her ex had anything to do with it. She could have put that box there herself and accused him to cause trouble. Or you could have done it, for that matter! What do you expect me to do?” Sharps demanded.

  Damien inclined his head and blew his breath out slowly, as though considering. “Cover your ass, maybe?” he suggested amiably. “That’s what I would do if I were you. Check for prints and test some of the open containers in the kitchen to see whether he used any of the poison? How does that sound?”

  The cop’s eyes narrowed, obviously a belated attempt to intimidate. “Just who the hell do you think you are, telling me how to do my job?”

  “A lawyer,” Damien said, smiling his friendliest smile. “And a witness, if need be.”