“Not unless you are.” He walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He held her eyes in the mirror. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Her self-doubt leaked through her expression, and it mattered to her that no one, especially her friends and family, thought she was on edge.
“I’m fine.”
“I know.” But he still held her shoulders, giving her a slow, firm massage. “You’re tense.”
“I don’t like fund-raisers.”
“Something happened out there. Tell me.”
“Nothing happened.” She looked down at her hands, which were still pressed against the marble countertop. She closed her eyes and let herself relax under Sean’s thumbs. The knots in her muscles loosened and she sighed.
“Lucy.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she opened her eyes and saw he was staring at her, his mouth a firm line.
“Cody accused me of falsifying some data. That hurt. We’ve been working together for a long time, and-” She sighed.
“I understand. But that wasn’t what I was talking about. Right before we talked to Fran, something happened. Tell me.”
She stared at him. How could he have such a single-minded purpose? And what could she say?
“It’s-just-” How could she explain it to him? She certainly didn’t want to talk about her past. “I don’t like being the center of attention, and I don’t like people watching me.”
“Who?”
“No one, everyone, I don’t know. It was just that creepy-crawly feeling you get when someone is looking at you on purpose, you know? It’s ridiculous. I know when I come to these things that I’m practically onstage.”
Sean edged closer. “You need to trust your instincts. How long have you felt this way?”
She couldn’t look at him anymore. A rush of humiliation flooded through her. “Six years.”
“But this is different.”
“No-yes-I-”
Was it different? Lately … “I don’t know. It’s my nerves. It’s been a stressful few months, with the FBI application process and then Roger Morton’s murder, and the Brad Prenter situation-”
“Who?”
The door opened and two older ladies walked in, startled to see Sean standing with Lucy. Lucy cracked a sly smile. “Busted,” she said.
He took her hand and led her out, giving the ladies a low bow as they left. As soon as the door closed, he steered Lucy to the side and said, “Is this Prenter guy harassing you?”
She shook her head. “No-I didn’t know him. He was a college TA who drugged and raped a student. He was killed in a robbery this week. That’s been on my mind, too.”
“Divine justice.”
“Maybe.”
“Lucy, you have solid instincts, so don’t dismiss these feelings as being some neurosis. Trust yourself.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Having faith in me.”
“Who doesn’t?”
She didn’t answer because there wasn’t really an answer. Her family supported her, but they were always watching out for her when they didn’t think she knew. She wasn’t ignorant, and she picked up on their protective vibes. “You want to go?” she asked.
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Now.” They started down the hall to the coatroom.
“Can I interest you in dessert?” Sean asked lightly.
“You mean the buffet wasn’t enough?”
“You didn’t eat anything.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“I know a place,” Sean said cryptically. “Do you trust me?”
She hesitated. Not because she didn’t trust him, but so many emotions were jumping around inside and she wasn’t sure she could keep a lid on them.
“It’s beginning to snow.”
Sean glanced at her. “Are you kidding? A few scrawny flakes aren’t going to deter me from treating you to the most incredible strawberry cheesecake east of the Mississippi.”
“Cheesecake?” Her stomach growled and she put a hand to her mouth.
“I heard that,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it. It was a spontaneous gesture, and Lucy tried to convince herself it was a kiss of friendship, but a warm sensation ran up her arms to the base of her neck as they walked to the car.
SIXTEEN
Sean walked Lucy to her front door. She was vibrant, her cheeks red from the cold, her dark eyes sparkling from the cheesecake sugar rush, topped with a glass of champagne.
Sean was pleased with himself that he had been able to distract Lucy after her earlier attack of nerves. Two hours later, she finally seemed relaxed.
He hadn’t forgotten what she said, however. She thought someone was watching her. He didn’t discount it as a personal defect the way she had. With all the stuff going on with Morton’s murder, maybe someone was paying too much attention to Lucy.
“Thank you so much, Sean.” Lucy sighed contently as she unlocked the door. They stepped inside, the light snow still swirling around. “I’m so glad we went out for dessert.” She reached over to disarm the alarm.
“Anything for you, milady,” he said with an accent and half bow. He wanted to kiss Lucy, but he hesitated. Hesitating was unlike him. What was wrong with him? He never had a problem-
But Lucy wasn’t any woman. He’d known that from the first time he’d met her.
And she was his partner’s sister. Patrick was his friend
And she wasn’t the kind of woman he usually dated. He liked dating girls who liked to have fun, just like him. Skiing, spontaneous trips cross country in his plane, skinny-dipping in a lake. His ex-girlfriends were generally nine- to-fivers or trust-fund princesses with no devotion to anything but themselves. He liked that, because that meant he never felt guilty when he broke it off.
None of those girls had lasted more than a few months.
That Lucy was special couldn’t be more obvious to him, but Sean knew himself and had never shied away from the truth. He screwed up relationships right and left. Not at the beginning-he had courtship down to a fine science. But after the romance wore off, he became bored with the monotony of the same old, same old. Different girl, same problems. Superficial desire that wore off quicker with each passing woman.
There was nothing superficial about Lucy Kincaid, and absolutely nothing superficial about his desire for her.
“What’s going through that mind of yours?” she asked.
“I want to kiss you,” he said before he realized the words left his mouth.
“Do you usually ask first?”
“No.”
She tilted her chin up defiantly and looked almost angry, her dark pupils widening. “Then don’t ask.”
Sean put his left hand on the back of Lucy’s neck, her long, soft hair luxurious in his fingers. He searched her
