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He drew the living room curtains, turned out all the lights in the house, and waited. Listened. After a couple of hours, with no unusual noises, he went to the spare room to sleep. But he left the door open. In a house this small, he’d be able to hear if someone tried to get in during the night.

Nico rolled out of bed around seven the next morning. Julia was still asleep, and he was glad. She’d had a rough day yesterday.

He checked the house thoroughly, but nothing had changed overnight. He hadn’t expected anything different -- he’d trained himself to wake up at the slightest abnormal sound. That skill had saved his life more than once when he was with Delta Force.

He reached for the front door, intending to check outside, then hesitated. He had no idea if Julia was friendly with her neighbors. Would they be shocked to see a man emerge from her house early in the morning? Would Julia be embarrassed?

He had no idea, so he’d wait until she was awake to check outside.

Slouched on the couch, scrolling through his emails, answering one from Mel, he heard Julia’s bedroom door open. Moments later, the bathroom door closed. A couple minutes after that, the pipes groaned as the shower turned on.

When she padded into the living room in stockinged feet twenty minutes later, her honey blond hair was damp and curling wildly around her shoulders. He swiveled to face her. “How’d you sleep?”

“Surprisingly well,” she said. “I think it was because you were here.” Her face reddened. “I mean, because I wasn’t alone. And I knew you’d hear anything unusual.”

“Good,” he said, unable to tear his gaze from the waves of hair around her face, or the purple tee-shirt and skinny black jeans she wore. “You ready for some breakfast?”

“Yeah. I have cereal, or eggs and English muffins. And coffee.” She turned and began to walk toward the kitchen. “Definitely need coffee.”

He grabbed her hand as she walked by. Scowled at the tiny spark that flew between them and released her. “I was thinking we’d go out for breakfast,” he said. “I want to ask you some questions, and I want you to be able to focus on that and not making food for us.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. There’s a diner a few blocks away that makes a good breakfast. We can go there.”

“Sounds good.” He hesitated. “I want to look outside the house for any signs of your intruder, but I didn’t want to shock your neighbors. Is anyone going to freak out if they see you with a man first thing in the morning? Anyone going to ask you questions?”

“My neighbor down the block might get up in your grill. Jenna and I look out for each other, and it’s her car in the garage. She has my keys, and I have hers. But no one else is going to care.”

“Okay, that was one question I had for you. Is that neighbor the only one with a key? Any other friends? Old boyfriends?” He barely managed to get the last question out without grinding his teeth. What the hell was wrong with him?

“No. No one else has a set of my keys. As a woman living alone, I’m careful who gets keys.” Her lips tightened, but she didn’t say anything more.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You look like you just ate something sour.”

She drew in a deep breath and looked away from him. “I dated a guy for a while who got hold of my keys and had a set made without my permission. I caught him opening the door one night right after I went to bed.” She smiled grimly. “I took back my keys and kicked him out. Literally. He fell down the stairs and took off.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Year and a half.”

“And you changed your locks after that?”

“The next morning.”

“Okay. Good. What about after you bought your house?”

“Did that right away, too. My realtor paid a locksmith to come out and change them. That was her house-warming gift to all her clients.”

“Then I think it’s safe to assume no one but your neighbor has a set of your keys. Where do you keep them when you’re at Madeline’s?”

“In my purse, which I lock in my desk drawer.”

“Good. It’s still possible that your intruder has a set of your keys, but it’s more likely he used a lock pick to get in. Let’s get breakfast and talk.”

She nodded, then returned to her room. Reappeared a few minutes later wearing the same black shoes she’d worn the night before, with her purse slung over her shoulder.

“Okay if we go straight from breakfast to Madeline’s?” he asked. “I want to look at the ordering system before anyone else is there.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Her fingers flew over the keypad for her garage door, and the door heaved itself upward with a groan. When she could duck beneath the door, she started for the driver’s side, stopped, then trudged to the passenger’s side. By the time she was belted in, he was in the driver’s seat, the car running and in gear. He shifted into reverse and backed out of the garage and down the driveway.


Tags: Margaret Watson Romance