He shrugged inwardly. As long as Eason was competent and Jessica was comfortable with him, Brant couldn’t care less. The guy’s mode of dress was the least of his concerns.
“I know we need to talk, to lay some ground rules,” she said, “but it’ll have to wait.” Pausing, she glanced back into her office. “I have a full agenda today,” she added awkwardly, obviously having difficulty dealing with this abrupt change in her life—a stranger invading it.
For a moment Brant felt a pinch of sympathy for her. But it passed just as quickly. He wasn’t about to develop feelings for her one way or the other. As soon as he nailed whoever was behind this menace, he would be gone. Until then, he would have to suck it up, the same as she would.
“No problem. If you need me, I’ll be here.”
“Where?”
He picked up on the panic in her voice, and his lips twisted. “Wherever you want.”
“Surely not in my office proper.”
This time her tone was so strained it came out a raspy whisper. For some reason that small change added to her attractiveness. Realizing his thoughts had betrayed him, Brant mentally shook himself.
“Not unless you want me there,” he said, knowing damn well she didn’t.
“No,” she countered quickly. “Here in the reception area will be fine.” Her gaze shifted to a stack of magazines. “Maybe you can keep occupied.”
“Don’t worry about me. Waiting and watching is what I do.”
She visibly let go of a breath. “Fine, then.”
Once she was back at her desk, Tony turned to him. “Please bear with her.” His eyes were anxious. “It’ll take her a while to get use to this drastic change.” He paused and touched his plastered-down hair. “But I’m glad you’re around. This person who’s after her apparently means business.”
Brant was instantly on the alert. “Has something else happened?”
“Yes,” Tony said almost in a hushed tone. “In case she doesn’t mention it to you, ask her about the e-mail she received last night.”
Ah, so that was what had made her call him. She’d gotten scared. Good. She was wising up. This pervert could end up harming her. No longer. The sicko would have to go through him to get to her.
“Thanks for the tip.”
Tony nodded, then went into Jessica’s office and shut the door.
Although it had been a long day, it hadn’t been boring—too much activity. He’d been busy handling traffic. There had been a steady stream of people in and out of Jessica’s office all day. Millie, her girl Friday, had identified them beforehand, as if sensing Brant would have stopped them otherwise.
In addition, he’d touched base with Thurmon a couple of times, though they hadn’t been able to talk much. But then, there really wasn’t anything to talk about, since he hadn’t had time alone with Jessica to talk over the situation. His instincts told him she’d planned her day that way.
Maybe not. Maybe he wasn’t being fair. He had to hand it to her; she was one busy lady, with her fingers in every pie in the city, which could be what had landed her in the jam to begin with. She had royally pissed off someone, that was for sure.
Now, as the work day came to an end, Brant leaned against the wall and crisscrossed his arms over his chest. The office had finally emptied, leaving Jessica alone. She suddenly appeared in his line of vision. She looked weary. Or maybe concerned was a better word.
What was on her mind? Him, probably, he told himself with his usual cynicism. What to do with him after they left here. Well, he wasn’t jumping through hoops over spending the evening alone with her, either. But that was part of the job, occasionally one of the hazards. In this case, it was definitely the latter.
He hadn’t meant to stare at her as she moved about her office, but in spite of himself, his gaze held steady. Just for a moment he indulged himself. No doubt she was an eye grabber. A classy one at that.
Great profile.
Great hair, too, the blond highlights looking like streaks of sunlight every time she moved her head.
And those legs. They seemed to go on forever beneath the skirt of her suit, another designer one, he bet.
And her breasts. He couldn’t ignore them. Never. Through the silk blouse, he was privy to just a hint of their upright fullness. She chose that moment to stretch, thrusting those breasts front and center, her nipples pushing against the silk. Brant’s breath caught in his throat.
Muttering an oath, he was about to jerk his eyes away when she caught them with her own. For a second it was as if he’d been shocked with a sudden jab of electricity.
Muttering another curse, he was the first to look away. Then he strode to the window and stared below at the beehive of activity. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper. What was he doing here? His worst nightmare. He fought to get control of his runaway emotions, which were telling him to bolt.
Why did she have to be such a looker? Why couldn’t she have been as homely as a mule eating briars through a picket fence? Luck of the draw. And the draw hadn’t been in his favor.
He hadn’t felt the need or the desire to get laid in a long time. He couldn’t allow himself to entertain that thought now. His son was the only thing he should be concerned with, certainly not his sexual needs.
And when and if he scratched that itch in his groin, it wouldn’t be with the likes of Jessica Kincaid, who lived in a different world from him, worlds that would never mesh in a million years. That aside, he simply wasn’t interested.
Marriage hadn’t agreed with him. Still, he wasn’t sorry he’d bitten that bullet. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have Elliot. Thinking about his son miraculously refocused him. He peered at his watch, thinking this might be a good time to try to reach Elliot. He had just flipped his cell phone open when she appeared in the door.
He swung around. She stood at a distance, a hint of a frown on her face.
“I’m about ready to call it a day.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m ready when you are.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“No problem. Your time is mine.”
She didn’t respond, though she hesitated for a minuscule second before walking back into her domain, her narrow derriere filling out her skirt to perfection.
Brant’s lips thinned into a pencil straight line.
“Does she always work this late?”
Wesley Stokes glared at his partner, Dick Wells, who occupied the seat beside him in his pickup, then curled his lips, showing off crooked, tobacco-stained teeth. “How the hell would I know?”
Wells shrugged narrow shoulders that matched his slight build and dark, clean-cut features. “Thought maybe you might have checked out her schedule.”
They had been sitting across the street from the city hall parking lot waiting for Jessica to leave. So far, she hadn’t made an appearance, and it was nearly six thirty.
Stokes’ glare harshened as he shifted his tall, beefy body in the seat so as to get a better look at his partner. “Hey, we’re in this together, right? Or have you conveniently forgotten that?”
“You know I haven’t,” Wells snapped.
“Then why didn’t you take care of it?”
“I’ve had other stuff on