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flames because of that redheaded dipshit. He’d
blow the fucker’s head off the first chance he got.
    “I
hope I’m worthy of a yes one day,” a
masculine voice drifted over the receiver.
    Had
he been so far into his head, he hadn’t heard them?
    Her
voice was so low, Mathews’ couldn’t hear. “Son of a bitch!”
    He
turned up the volume on the metal box.
    “I
want to take what we have between us further,” the fuckhead said.
    “No
fucking way!” Mathews shouted. Rage rose from his stomach to his face.
    A
door slammed, the walls in his hideaway shook.
    “Shit!”
He turned off the receiver and pulled the chain to the overhead light. “Who the
fuck was here?”
    ****
    Reeling
on the fact Charlene wanted to go alone to Greenwood Manor, Larry parked his
Suburban in the driveway of Jake and Pamela Gibson’s two-story, brick house.
Realistically, he didn’t have the right to demand or expect her to listen to
his advice. Still, he couldn’t stop his primal instincts from going further
where she was concerned. He wanted her to count on him with every aspect of her
life. The sensation landed him in unfamiliar territory, a feeling he didn’t
know how to handle.
    Hs
sucked in a deep breath to get a handle on his wayward reactions. The scent of
her peach shampoo, lingering on his clothes, inundated his senses. His groin
tightened.
    Frustrated
for letting his guard down even a tiny bit, he hit his hand on the steering
wheel. He wasn’t relationship material. The few times he counted on women they
ripped his heart out. Never again .
    An
old saying played through his mind, one that he’d repeated over and over to
himself to give him hope. Time heals all
wounds. His jaw tightened. If only the proverb had held true. Scars from
emotional wounds inflicted on him years ago stayed fresh and refused to let go.
    Yet…
He stared at his knuckles whitening on the wheel as his insides gripped with
need. When he’d looked into Charlene’s eyes for the first time six months ago,
magic cast a spell over him. That day, he’d lowered the wedge between him and
the world a fraction. The reckless act scared the crap out of him.
    He
hadn’t called her when his fingers itched to, didn’t stop by her house when his
car wanted to drive by. He kept his distance, keeping his desire at bay.
    Last
night, the first taste of her overpowered him, urging him to lower the barrier.
As much as he yearned to kick the protective wall away, he knew keeping the
wall erected to its full height, or even higher, was safest. The quandary was
like a pebble in his shoe, shifting around and poking him. Not a good position
for an agent whose clarity saved lives.
    Frustrated
with self-reflecting, he climbed out of his Suburban and gazed across the
sparse wooded land to Jake, pitching a stick into the Rappahannock River for
his Labrador, Willis, as he’d done countless times while they’d discussed
cases.
    “Hi,
Larry!” Pamela stepped out the side door of the house with a small cooler in
her hand. “I figured you guys might want some refreshments.”
    “It’s
barely past noon.”
    She
smiled. Her face glowed, the sun reflecting off her dark hair. Signs from the
kidnapping had disappeared. “But it’s five o’clock somewhere. Besides, you guys
always have a beer when discussing a case on the ‘thinking rock’.” She made
quote fingers to express her point.
    “Thinking
rock?” His question slipped out clipped. Irritation with Charlene, himself, and
fatigue from not getting much sleep last night sneaked into his tone.  
    “That’s
what it is,” Pamela snapped.  
    Charlene
had him in knots. He needed a distraction, something to take his mind off the
chemistry flying between them. Maybe, he should talk to the Director into
sending him overseas, plenty of high profile cases needed attention…
    “Larry.”
Pamela’s gentle voice snapped him out of his self-loathing.
    …Or,
he’d just apologize to Pamela and seek out his friends. “Sorry. I