In the Arms of Danger

SEVENTEEN

Blasted woman.

Cory spooned the pancake batter on the grill, trying to keep his mind off the sexiest woman he'd ever had the misfortune to meet...twice now. Her beautiful image kept him from thinking of anything else. How can I do my job if I can't think straight?

She made him crazy.

That's the only logical explanation for his actions. Since that first day when he met her on Bermuda's white sandy beach, wearing the most revealing two-piece bikini he'd ever seen, he'd not been able to get her off his mind. Even during those painful days right after he'd been shot, it was her face and the memory of her tender loving that kept him fighting for his life. Even when he'd discovered she'd double-crossed him.

Betrayal's sharp knife jabbed him in the heart. He wished he'd died during that time. Memories of them together kept plaguing his head. He'd thought about those days just to rekindle the anger within. Because of that, he healed quicker and was able to get back on his feet. He'd wanted to find her, to be the one to slap the handcuffs on her and haul her butt to jail for conspiracy and attempted murder.

But his current assignment wouldn't allow it. He'd been granted an early retirement from the FBI and couldn't access the database without raising eyebrows. With great reluctance, he'd tucked that bad experience away and begun his new life as a private detective.

Even as a Private d**k, he couldn't find anything about the woman he'd fallen in love with. It was as if she'd dropped right off the face of the earth. Now he knew why. She'd lied about her last name.

Little by little, he went on with his life, trying to forget the woman who turned him upside down just from his memory.

"Would you like some help?"

The woman's sweet voice made him jump and spin around. Taylor and Meggie stood beside him at the counter. Taylor's hand slid over his and pulled the spatula away.

Her intoxicating lavender scent closed in around him, making him long for what they'd shared so long ago. She'd left her hair down and hanging around her shoulders. She wore a purple sweater with what looked like zig-zags of stitching across the front. Faded jeans covered her very slender legs.

He mentally shook himself out of the stupor. "No, I'm fine," he grumbled. He adjusted his stance.

She flipped a pancake, displaying a very dark-brown side. "Well, my daughter doesn't like over-cooked pancakes." She pointed to the ones on the grill. "And these are definitely over-cooked."

Heat consumed his face, and he turned away. All he tried to do was make simple pancakes, and he messed that up, all because he'd held her, kissed her, and had dreamed about the woman he'd loved a long time ago.

Meggie closed the fridge door and walked up to him. She tugged on his jeans. He looked into her upturned face and her smile widened. "I wike pancakes."

His heart softened. "Good."

"I wike them with sir-up." She held up the syrup bottle.

"Me, too." He winked.

She pointed to the microwave. "Put it in there."

He touched his fingers to his forehead in a salute. "Yes, Ma'am."

She giggled and hurried to the table. When he turned and met Taylor's gaze, his breath caught. Her relaxed expression was actually pleasant and the smile on her face looked genuine.

When she caught his stare, her face flushed a bright red and she turned back to the grill.

This tiptoeing around each other wouldn't make for a comfortable situation. If they had to work together, they needed to get everything out in the open about what happened four years ago, and more importantly, what would happen from here on out.

Talking was necessary but he wanted to wait until Meggie was asleep. Taylor's stubbornness would certainly erupt into a full-blown argument and he didn't want her daughter to hear that.

But then, he didn't want to be alone with Taylor, either. Especially, after the sun disappeared.

God forbid she'd be in her nightie. Yet she hadn't been in her sexy pajamas when he'd kissed her last night.

He clenched his teeth and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he waited for the microwave to beep. Focusing on the stalker had to be top priority...not imagining Taylor in his arms responding to his kiss.

During breakfast, Meggie chattered like a squirrel and he kept his attention focused on the cute little girl instead of her mother. Meggie stole his heart. He couldn't help it. Her blue eyes danced when she smiled. Dimples winked in her cheeks when she laughed. So much like...

Mine.

He stilled the fork halfway to his mouth, his stare glued to Meggie. Brown curly hair and big blue eyes, just like her mother. Round face. A spitting image of Taylor. Except for her dimples. Marks in the exact place as his, and only flashed when she smiled.

She was definitely his daughter.

He squeezed his eyes closed and massaged his forehead. Why hadn't Taylor told him yet? Was it because she still wanted him dead? He glared at the half-eaten pancakes dripping with syrup on his plate. Hunger had left him; the twisting knot in his gut made him queasy.

Setting his fork on the table, he glanced up. Neither Taylor nor her daughter noticed his agony. Which was exactly the way he'd like to keep it.

He scooted away from the table and stood. Now both pairs of eyes were on him. He swallowed. "I need to go check outside." His voice came out gruff, but he wasn't about to apologize.

Taylor's forehead scrunched, her lips thinning to a straight line. "Is everything all right?"

Of course not! "There's nothing to worry about. I'm just doing a normal check."

As he left the kitchen, Meggie's cheerful voice floated through the air. His heart twined with emotion, both with tenderness and uncertainty. Will I ever be her father?

* * * *

Cory had been gone too long.

Taylor paced the front porch, her fingers stuffed into the pockets of her jeans to keep her from chewing her nails. Parked next to the cabin was Cory's Blazer, so he hadn't gone far. Maybe he had left an extra set of keys in his vehicle.

Without another thought, she bounded down the steps and ran to the Blazer. She yanked the unlocked door open and began her search, sliding her hand underneath the seat and the floor, then checked the visor.

Nothing.

She leaned over the seat and pulled open the glove box. It, too, held nothing that would help her start the engine.

Too bad she didn't know how to hotwire.

Since she couldn't find anything inside, she climbed out and looked underneath, hoping to see something there.

Nothing.

Letting out a growl, she jumped to her feet and slammed the door. Back to the porch she marched, gritting her teeth. Why can't things go my way for once?

Stuck with a man she didn't trust wasn't the way she wanted to spend the next few days. And what if they didn't find the stalker by then? Would she have to spend weeks with Cory...months even? Would she even live that long?

To make matters worse, Zack hadn't called her back. It had been several hours since their phone conversation this morning, and still he made her wait. Didn't he know about her impatience? Of course he did.

After Cory left the breakfast table, she and Meggie entertained themselves by doing the dishes together, and then going down by the lake to skip rocks. Afterwards, they played in the yard, tossing a large rubber ball back and forth. They jumped rope, played tag, and even had a couple of rounds of hide-and-go-seek.

Still no sign of Cory.

She raked her hands through her hair and emitted a deep breath. What if something happened to him? Maybe the stalker taken Cory and harmed him. For all she knew Cory could be lying somewhere injured and bleeding to death.

What if he's hurt? Dead?

Trying not to think that last thought, she stopped at the end of the porch. She stared at the dirt road leading away from the cabin toward her father's horse ranch a couple miles away. Maybe Cory had gone there.

She should walk up that way to find out, but with Meggie taking a nap now, Taylor didn't dare leave her daughter alone. Where was the bodyguard her father had hired?

Next to the cabin, the bushes rustled. She swung in that direction, her heart beating quicker. With soft steps, she moved toward the sound. She gripped her fingers together and brought them close to her mouth. She couldn't scream. Not yet.

A flash of something dark-brown, and alive, peeked through the green, gold and orange leaves. Blood pulsed through her veins and made her head throb. Fear clutched her throat.

Cory, where are you?