Yuletide Protector. Julie Miller
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Название: Yuletide Protector
Автор: Julie Miller
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Intrigue
isbn: 9781472007650
isbn:
It was happening again. This was getting personal. This was how it had started with Ellen, and he couldn’t go through that again. Move away, Montgomery. Cop. Witness. Keep her safe. Don’t let any feelings get involved with this.
“Do your job,” he mouthed to himself.
“What?” Bailey whispered beside him.
Even worse than feeling the damn emotions was someone else knowing they were there, providing a weapon they could use against him.
So he emptied his lungs on a forceful breath of air and pulled his body away from Bailey’s to face her. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” Her nod wasn’t all that convincing. She squeezed her eyes shut for second and shook her head, as if clearing some graphic image from her mind. But when they opened again, that azure gaze tilted up and locked on to his. “I smelled that vile cologne he had on. I’m sure it’s something expensive, but...” The strength of her gaze faltered. “He had it on that night, too. I know he’s the man who raped me.”
“I have no doubt,” Spencer agreed. “That’s exactly the kind of detail that will make the D.A.’s case for us.” When the taut line of her mouth softened into a smile, he ignored that little kick of awareness that made him smile in return.
“Thank you for saying that. And thank you for being here when...” She visibly shuddered. “He was close enough he could have touched me.”
“Brian Elliott will never touch you again.” When he heard how vehemently he’d spoken those words, as if he’d just made some kind of promise to Bailey Austin, Spencer released her hand and broke contact entirely. It wasn’t his job to care about the awful turmoil she must go through each time she had to revisit the violence that had been done to her. Maybe she was okay with being touched, or maybe she’d been too scared to realize how hard she’d been holding on to him. Either way was a head game he wasn’t comfortable playing. She needed a sensitive kind of guy or her therapist to walk her through the emotional minefield of taking down the Rose Red Rapist. And he wasn’t that guy.
He needed some distance. This situation was getting inside his head—the woman was getting under his skin. Setting up a safe house and guarding a witness weren’t part of his job description anymore. He was not this woman’s protector. He was seeing his investigation through to the very end, like any good detective would. He was doing a favor for Chief Taylor.
He was not putting himself in a position to lose anyone else who mattered to him.
Ignoring the questioning look in Bailey’s eyes, Spencer inclined his head toward the bullpen—the maze of desks and cubicles in the main room where he and dozens of other detectives worked. “Come on. Let me get my coat and then I’ll walk you to your car.” He moved out without a backward glance, lengthening his stride to put some impersonal space between them. “I’ll give you my card and my partner’s, and, of course, you can call the precinct if you need anything else.”
Her heels clicked on the marble tiles behind him as she hurried to catch up.
All of Bailey’s brave talk about testifying had flown out the window when she’d come face to face with Brian Elliott...right along with Spencer’s resolve not to let things get personal with her.
He wouldn’t let either one happen again.
Chapter Three
Starch.
That was the subtle, clean scent filling the elevator. Bailey clutched the strap of her purse to her stomach, almost smiling beside the jut of Spencer Montgomery’s shoulder as he watched the third-level light come on above the doors of the parking garage elevator.
After traveling down through the bowels of the Fourth Precinct building and out a side entrance, they’d hurried through the bracing air and blowing snow to enter the parking garage a block away from the bright lights and electronic noise of the impromptu press conference on the front steps of the tall granite building across the street. The multistory parking garage might be filled with cars, but with the cold wind blowing through the open levels, chasing the patrons indoors, there’d been no one around when Spencer had bustled her onto the elevator and punched the button. This silent ride up the elevator gave Bailey a calming reprieve from the emotional battles she’d fought all morning with her family, Brian Elliott and within herself.
Not that she’d call her time spent with Spencer Montgomery relaxing, exactly.
Since his promise to walk her to her car, everything had been a rush. Papers neatly stacked on his desk. Chair pushed in. A quick introduction to his partner, Nick Fensom. She’d hurried to keep up with his long strides, been relegated to quick nods in response to his clipped requests and commands. The damp chill in the air outside had nipped at her ears and nose. But now that she had a few moments alone in the elevator with him to catch her breath and thaw out, she had the strangest urge to turn her nose into the nubby wool of his charcoal-gray coat.
Nothing more than starch and soap and cold, crisp air. Emanating from the charcoal-gray coat and crisp white shirt he wore, and maybe from the man himself, Spencer’s scent was as straightforward and masculine as every other detail she’d noticed about the steely-eyed detective.
Unlike the overpowering smell of Brian Elliott’s cologne that triggered nightmares, Spencer’s undoctored scent elicited something feminine and long forgotten inside her. Its simplicity soothed her overwrought senses, yet awakened warm frissons of awareness that she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to feel again for a man. It was a gentler, although no less impactful response than what she’d felt outside the look-at room when she’d anchored herself to the unwavering strength of his hand holding hers. Spencer’s unexpected touch had centered her, strengthened her, allowed her to push aside her gut reaction of panicked fear and handle Brian Elliott’s attempt to strike up a conversation and deny what he’d done to her.
Yes, they’d argued. Yes, he’d pushed her to keep up with his long strides. Yes, it irritated her that Detective Montgomery pictured her as some sort of naive girl who couldn’t think or do for herself, and had no idea what she was getting into. But it had felt invigorating for a few moments to have someone actually let her speak her mind and vent her emotions without trying to quickly apologize or change the subject. He hadn’t slowed down and lowered his expectations because he thought she was too fragile to handle any kind of stress. And she definitely wasn’t feeling anything girlish around the man.
Not when he smelled so good.
Not when he’d stood between her and her rapist.
Not when he made her feel, period.
After all this time, sheltered by her family, sheltered by the protective mental and emotional barriers she’d put up around herself since the rape, it was just as unsettling as it was intriguing to realize that the tall, no-nonsense detective could make her feel normal, womanly things again.
The elevator slowed; the signal dinged.
“Straight to your car, then straight home, right?”
Her secret grin faded at Spencer’s brusque reminder. Clearly, whatever crush was forming inside her head wasn’t mutual. She was just another piece of evidence in his case against the Rose Red Rapist he wanted to protect. She’d be wise to remember that, and keep the relationship between them as businesslike as he did. “Yes. I have plenty to do to keep me busy at my apartment СКАЧАТЬ