Body Heat (Simply 4)

“I thought a classy woman like you would have better manners. Don’t I deserve a thanks for sending pretty flowers to such a pretty woman?”

“Maybe I’d thank you if I knew who you were.” She heard the shaking in her voice and tamped down on her nerves.

But Sharon must have sensed her anxiety; she put a comforting hand on her back.

“No? Well, then you can thank me in person,” the stranger said.

“Who are you?” Brianne didn’t know if she was dealing with a benign secret admirer or a stalker. Despite her best efforts, trembling turned to shaking, and she eyed the flowers she’d once found lovely with anxious confusion.

“Hang up, Brianne.” At the sound of Jake’s voice, she whipped around, surprised he’d come to find her here, but not really surprised he’d be around when she needed him.

She didn’t question his right to give orders; she just slammed the phone into the cradle and took a step back, away from the floral bouquet.

“Can we have a few minutes alone?” Jake asked.

Brianne glanced at Sharon, who was staring back and forth between Brianne and Jake, obviously unsure of what to make of the situation. Brianne didn’t know what to make of it, either.

“It’s okay. I need to talk to him,” she told her friend.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Sharon said, a curious yet in-awe expression on her face when she looked at Jake. “If you need anything, I’ll be out front.”

“Thanks.” Brianne glanced at her watch, and though her breathing came in shallow gasps, she somehow managed to go through her schedule in her mind. “Sharon, could you please take my nine-thirty? I’ll owe you, I promise.”

“Not a problem. You can repay me with information.” After another lingering glance at Jake, Sharon walked out of the lounge, leaving the two of them alone.

Jake stood in front of her and squeezed her trembling hands in his. “What happened?” He put an arm around her waist and led her to an old plaid couch.

She’d worked here for so long, yet the couch predated her. It was worn and familiar and gave her a steadying calm she desperately needed. She forced herself to recount her morning, something that helped to calm her nerves. “I got paged on my beeper early.”

“And I didn’t hear it because…?”

“I was in the kitchen getting a glass of juice and you were still fast asleep. My bag with the pager was still in the living room.” And she didn’t have to tell him why her purse had never made it into her bedroom last night. The darkening in his gaze told her he remembered everything about last night as vividly as she did.

“Okay, so you were paged. Then what?”

“Is this what they call the third degree, Detective?” she asked lightly. She appreciated not just his concern but his very presence. Sexy razor stubble covered his cheeks, his hair looked as though he’d just tumbled out of bed and he was completely focused on her. He was her fantasy come to life—if the circumstances weren’t so unnerving, Brianne thought. At the reminder of that phone call, she shivered and sought to divert her thoughts.

He brushed her hair back from her face, calming her. “This is what they call concern. Now quit stalling and go on.”

Brianne had never underestimated his talent or ability as a law enforcement officer, and she saw now that she’d been right. The man was determined, and anyone who needed him would not be let down, but Brianne had no desire to fall into the needy category.

She’d been on her own and strong for too long to let one phone call turn her into a basket case. “I recognized the extension and called the hospital to see what they wanted.”

“Is it unusual for you to be paged so early in the morning?”

She nodded. “Unusual but not unheard of. It wasn’t the Rehab desk, either, so I knew it had to be important. I called back, no one answered, and I figured it was a real emergency. I found out I was right.”

She told him about her elderly patient, and he listened with intense interest. “I told her stories about Marc and why I became a physical therapist to calm and distract her.”

“Not exactly in your job description.” Warm admiration filled his gaze.

She shrugged self-consciously. “What can I say? I’m a born nurturer.”

That she was, Jake thought. And he wouldn’t mind being the recipient of that caring. But with Ramirez closing in, Jake doubted the fates had that in store.

But hearing her talk about her relationship with her patients, a smile tilted his lips. “I think those are stories I’d like to hear myself one day.” A day when Brianne wasn’t in danger…and if she was speaking to him again by then.

“I have to warn you, my stories put Mrs. Cohen to sleep. Though the sedative might have had something to do with that.” She managed a laugh but sobered quickly, obviously remembering why she was relaying the story to him.