strings.”
He crossed to the side door, gave her another one of those heart-achingly sad smiles, then stepped out onto the carport.
By the time the taillights on Logan’s car faded in the distance, Amanda was shaking so hard she had to sit down at the table. For a few minutes tonight, Chief Richards—Logan—had made her feel attractive again. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have a man look at her with hunger in his eyes.
Not that it mattered. She couldn’t encourage any kind of relationship between them. Her own seesawing emotions were too much to deal with.
Let alone his.
At times tonight, he’d looked like he was scared to death of her.
L ogan shook his head in disgust, tilted his beer, and took a long, deep drink. He slammed the empty bottle down on the top rail of his back deck, mildly surprised the glass didn’t shatter. The gold label sparkled up at him in the porch light, mocking him, reminding him Amanda drank the same brand of beer.
They both had the same brand of TV, the same kind of computer. About half of the DVDs in the rack beside her TV were the same movies he had next to his—action movies, not chick flicks.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked down at the picture frame he held in his left hand. Victoria’s soft brown eyes stared up at him with that adoring look she’d once reserved only for him. God, how he’d loved her. He still couldn’t believe she was no longer his. They’d been happy together, or so he’d thought, until she asked for a divorce so she could marry someone else.
In the year since the divorce he’d been convinced he could never love another woman like that. He’d never meet someone and again feel that hot rush of attraction, that sense of connection when he looked in her eyes, as if he’d known her forever. He never thought another woman could make him burn for her, yearn for her, the way he’d once burned for Victoria.
Until he met Amanda.
The moment he’d looked into those haunted blue eyes he was lost. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms, protect her, ease the hurt that caused the shadows in her eyes. Even now he wanted nothing more than to rush back to her house and make sure she was safe, even though his men were outside watching over her.
He cursed and crossed the deck to the set of French doors and went inside. He set the alarm, discarded his beer bottle in the kitchen, then glanced at his watch. He should have been in bed long before now, but he was too keyed up to sleep. He needed something to take his mind off Amanda, because no matter how much he might want her, he couldn’t have her. Might as well do what he did most nights when he couldn’t sleep, which was often. He headed toward the front of the house to his study.
The top of his desk was covered with stacks of files. Aside from the cold cases his former team in New York occasionally sent to get his advice, he now had files from both the O’Donnell case and the Branson/Stockton case piled across his desk. He grabbed the nearest folder and flipped to the first page, but the words swam in front of him, making no sense. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate, not with thoughts of Amanda still swirling through his mind.
She was a witness in a murder investigation. Logan knew he had no business even thinking about getting personally involved with her. If he couldn’t concentrate now, it would only get worse if he allowed this insane attraction to go any further. What if he missed something important and another woman died? At least with his rookie mistake, he could tell himself maybe the killer hadn’t killed again. Maybe the killer knew his victim and it was a crime of passion, a one-time thing.
Carolyn O’Donnell’s killer was different. He’d killed before and he would kill again. He was probably already stalking his next victim. Logan had to do everything he could to stop the killer, or the next woman’s death would be on him. There wasn’t any room in
He crossed to the side door, gave her another one of those heart-achingly sad smiles, then stepped out onto the carport.
By the time the taillights on Logan’s car faded in the distance, Amanda was shaking so hard she had to sit down at the table. For a few minutes tonight, Chief Richards—Logan—had made her feel attractive again. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have a man look at her with hunger in his eyes.
Not that it mattered. She couldn’t encourage any kind of relationship between them. Her own seesawing emotions were too much to deal with.
Let alone his.
At times tonight, he’d looked like he was scared to death of her.
L ogan shook his head in disgust, tilted his beer, and took a long, deep drink. He slammed the empty bottle down on the top rail of his back deck, mildly surprised the glass didn’t shatter. The gold label sparkled up at him in the porch light, mocking him, reminding him Amanda drank the same brand of beer.
They both had the same brand of TV, the same kind of computer. About half of the DVDs in the rack beside her TV were the same movies he had next to his—action movies, not chick flicks.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and looked down at the picture frame he held in his left hand. Victoria’s soft brown eyes stared up at him with that adoring look she’d once reserved only for him. God, how he’d loved her. He still couldn’t believe she was no longer his. They’d been happy together, or so he’d thought, until she asked for a divorce so she could marry someone else.
In the year since the divorce he’d been convinced he could never love another woman like that. He’d never meet someone and again feel that hot rush of attraction, that sense of connection when he looked in her eyes, as if he’d known her forever. He never thought another woman could make him burn for her, yearn for her, the way he’d once burned for Victoria.
Until he met Amanda.
The moment he’d looked into those haunted blue eyes he was lost. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms, protect her, ease the hurt that caused the shadows in her eyes. Even now he wanted nothing more than to rush back to her house and make sure she was safe, even though his men were outside watching over her.
He cursed and crossed the deck to the set of French doors and went inside. He set the alarm, discarded his beer bottle in the kitchen, then glanced at his watch. He should have been in bed long before now, but he was too keyed up to sleep. He needed something to take his mind off Amanda, because no matter how much he might want her, he couldn’t have her. Might as well do what he did most nights when he couldn’t sleep, which was often. He headed toward the front of the house to his study.
The top of his desk was covered with stacks of files. Aside from the cold cases his former team in New York occasionally sent to get his advice, he now had files from both the O’Donnell case and the Branson/Stockton case piled across his desk. He grabbed the nearest folder and flipped to the first page, but the words swam in front of him, making no sense. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate, not with thoughts of Amanda still swirling through his mind.
She was a witness in a murder investigation. Logan knew he had no business even thinking about getting personally involved with her. If he couldn’t concentrate now, it would only get worse if he allowed this insane attraction to go any further. What if he missed something important and another woman died? At least with his rookie mistake, he could tell himself maybe the killer hadn’t killed again. Maybe the killer knew his victim and it was a crime of passion, a one-time thing.
Carolyn O’Donnell’s killer was different. He’d killed before and he would kill again. He was probably already stalking his next victim. Logan had to do everything he could to stop the killer, or the next woman’s death would be on him. There wasn’t any room in
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