Danger at Her Door. Beth Cornelison

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СКАЧАТЬ Ginny reached for her hand and squeezed it. “The man who raped me.”

      Facing the detective, Megan sighed. “God knows I wish I could. But the man who attacked me had a lightning bolt tattoo on his forearm. And…he was balding and—”

      A shudder race through her, remembering the face that she’d worked five years to erase from her nightmares. “He’s not any of those men.”

      “You’re sure?”

      She heard frustration in the detective’s voice. With a nod, she glanced back at the lineup of men, and the knots in her stomach tightened. The man she recognized from the television stared straight ahead. His light gray eyes stabbed her like shards of flint.

      As cold and frightening as his pale glare was, the menacing eyes she recalled so vividly from the night of her attack had been dark brown, almost black. The man in the lineup had no decoration on his arm, nor any scar indicating the removal of a lightning bolt tattoo. Though she wanted to believe her assailant had been caught, the inconsistencies led her to the only conclusion that made sense.

      Her rapist still walked the street.

      “I’m sure,” she whispered. “Wanting him to be the right one doesn’t make him so.”

      The detective nodded and shoved away from the wall where he’d propped during her viewing. “All right. Thank you for coming down, Miss Hoffman. The officer at the desk will have some papers for you to sign. That’s all.”

      Megan raised her head as the officer opened the door and held it for her and Ginny. “I’m sorry.”

      Ginny frowned at her and tucked a wisp of her pale blond hair behind her ear. “You have nothing to apologize for.” Lifting Megan’s purse from the floor, Ginny handed her the bag and met Megan’s gaze with unwavering certainty in her blue eyes. “You’re not to blame for anything that’s happened since the day that bastard hurt you. This guy doesn’t fit the description of your assailant, and you’ve done nothing wrong by saying so.”

      Megan slid her purse strap over her shoulder and flashed her blond friend a weak smile. “Right, right. I know that. I do.”

      “I know you know it. I want you to believe it.”

      “I’m working on that part.” Before her friend could respond, Megan hurried through the open door and into the corridor, eager to escape the confines of the dark, stuffy room. She spotted the ladies’ room down the hall and made a beeline for it.

      She barely got the stall door closed before her stomach pitched and heaved.

      “Megan? Are you all right?” Ginny called to her.

      Wiping her mouth with a wad of toilet paper, she sagged against the side of the stall. “Just dandy.”

      “Can I do anything for you?”

      Bless Ginny’s heart. How could she have survived any of this horror without Ginny’s levelheaded reassurance and unflappable friendship? Opening the door, Megan staggered out of the stall and to the sink to rinse out her mouth. “Do you have a breath mint or a piece of gum?”

      Ginny rummaged through her purse and extracted a roll of peppermint Life Savers. “How about one of these?”

      Megan splashed water on her face then nodded. “Perfect.”

      “All in the line of duty.” The blonde rubbed Megan’s arm. “Feel better now or would you like to sit down somewhere?”

      “No, I’ll be fine. I just want to sign those papers and get out of here.” Megan popped one of the mints in her mouth and glanced in the mirror as she reached for a paper towel to dry her face. Her complexion seemed waxy and pale, and puffy bags under her eyes testified to her sleepless night. Her liberal use of water to cool her cheeks left her mascara smudged and damp tendrils of her hair plastered against her neck. In short, she looked a wreck.

      Wadding the paper towel in a ball, she jammed it in the trash by the restroom door and followed Ginny out to the front desk. The officer at the desk handed her several forms to sign. She scratched her name in sprawling script in the designated blanks, eager to shake the dust of this morning’s task from her sandals and go home.

      “Megan?”

      She lifted her gaze to find a familiar pair of hazel eyes studying her, and her pulse went haywire.

      Jack Calhoun.

      Chapter 3

      “Jack,” Megan whispered, drawing a shaky breath.

      Just yesterday this man’s nearly naked body and warm smile had awakened long-dormant desires deep inside her. Today, his coffee-brown hair brushed the collar of a wrinkled, white button-down shirt, and he wore a pair of loose-fitting khaki pants. But Megan could still see his wide, chiseled torso and muscular legs in her mind’s eye, and the mental image snagged the breath in her lungs.

      He stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Hey, neighbor. I thought that was you.”

      A rakish grin lit his face, and like a summer breeze, a pleasant warmth skimmed through her.

      “Hi,” she rasped. Painfully aware of how ragged she looked, Megan took his hand. His long fingers curled firmly around hers.

      Warm. Confident. Secure.

      She mustered a smile, despite her jumpy nerves, but when she tried to pull her hand back, Jack held tight, giving her fingers another squeeze. The strength of his grip sent wings of ill-ease fluttering through her.

      Her attacker pinned her wrists above her head, immobilizing her.

      Megan gasped as the full-color memory flashed in her mind. She yanked her hand free from Jack’s and clasped it over her galloping heart.

      “Ginny West.” Quickly Ginny sidled in front of Megan and grabbed Jack’s hand, giving Megan the moment she needed to catch her breath.

      Good ol’ Gin. So often, she seemed to be one step ahead of Megan, anticipating every emotional swing, every need.

      Jack greeted the blonde politely then turned his gaze back to Megan. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he cocked his head and tugged his mouth in a crooked but disarming grin. “What are you doing at the police station? No trouble, I hope.”

      Megan swallowed hard, fumbling for an answer. He couldn’t know the truth. If her neighbor found out, how long would it be before the whole street knew her past? She’d worked so hard to protect her secret and rebuild her life.

      When she met his inquisitive expression, a sinking sensation swamped her. She’d struggled for five years to conquer her past, to regain control. But in the hazel warmth of Jack Calhoun’s incisive gaze, Megan felt exposed, lost.

      And vulnerable.

      The intelligence and concern in his green-brown gaze seemed to cut through pretenses and see straight to her soul.

      “She came with me to pay my parking ticket,” Ginny said smoothly.

      Megan didn’t deny her СКАЧАТЬ