“Did he ever say anything?” Sam prompted.
“Hmm?” She blinked and tried to focus her thoughts. “Oh. No. He just calls between midnight and four in the morning. It was every night for a while.”
“You could have turned it off.”
“I finally did.” When exhaustion had set in. Unfortunately fatigue had loosened her tongue and she’d mentioned to her folks what was going on. “I still had my cell for emergencies, but then he started calling that number.”
“Your father said a photo of you is missing from his desk at the restaurant.”
She nodded. “Someone left the frame and just took the picture.”
“I see.” He rested a hip against the corner of her desk. “Did you report this to the police?”
“Yes. And they investigated. Followed every possible lead and came to a dead end. There wasn’t much to go on.” She sat in her chair, putting a little distance between them.
“I see,” he said again.
“Then the calls just abruptly stopped. I haven’t had one for several weeks now. My theory is that it was someone who was venting about something and the police involvement brought them to their senses. And now they’re over whatever was bugging them.”
“And your point is?”
She folded her hands on her desk. “I’m not an idiot. If I was the heroine in a bad B movie, I wouldn’t go outside to face the serial slasher without a well-equipped army. The police would be actively involved if there were a concrete threat. And let’s be clear, this harassment wasn’t even very original.”
“As harassment goes you’d prefer a horse’s head under your pillow?” he asked wryly.
“Very funny. You know what I mean. I’m no hero. If there was reason to be concerned, I’d have picked out my own bodyguard.”
One who looked nothing like Sam. A shorter guy with zero sex appeal and absolutely no animal magnetism.
“You’re a family law attorney, right?” he asked, lasering her with his blue-eyed gaze as he leaned forward and flattened his palms on her desk.
“Yes. Says so on the sign out front.”
“Then I’m sure you’re aware that domestic disturbance is the most volatile and deadly situation a cop faces.”
“Yes, but—”
“But, nothing. When families are involved, emotions run high.”
“And your point is?”
“Never underestimate anyone or anything. Ever.”
She stood, but still had to look up at him. “Good advice, Sam. I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks for stopping by. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience my family caused you.”
His gaze narrowed. “You’re throwing me out?”
“Not literally.”
She couldn’t manage to stop herself from assessing the muscles straining the sleeves of his T-shirt. If they were arm wrestling, he’d take her easily. But this was her office, her turf—and she called the shots. She was giving him leave to leave.
It was a preemptive strike. He was good-looking enough to make her knees weak and had enough character to get between Bo Taggart and the woman he was attempting to grope. There could be a lot to like about this man, and thirty days joined at the hip could do her a lot of emotional damage. Assuming he stuck around that long.
She wasn’t willing to chance it.
She put her hand out. “Goodbye, Sam.”
His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Not so fast, Counselor.”
Chapter Two
“Excuse me?” Jamie’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “‘Not so fast’? This is my office and I can do things at any speed I choose. And I choose for you to hit the road. Don’t let the door hit you in the fanny on the way out.”
“I’d like nothing better than to shake your hand, say, It’s been nice but I’ve got places to go and people to see, you should have a good life.”
“But?”
“But I can’t. And there are two very good reasons.” Sam watched her gaze narrow.
“Such as?”
“Number one—no matter how unfair it is, I’m under a court-mandated sentence to perform community service.”
“And number two?” she asked.
“Your parents believe there’s a threat to your safety.”
“My parents believe I’m at risk unless I’m with them or at home with padlocks on the doors and windows.”
Funny, he thought. Her parents had told him she’d be stubborn. And she was. But they’d neglected to mention that she was beautiful. And she definitely was.
Brunette curls brushed her shoulders and framed her oval face dominated by big hazel eyes with thick, dark lashes. She wasn’t very tall, maybe five-one or-two and slender, which tapped into the protective streak he tried to ignore. He’d protect her, but it wouldn’t get personal. And he didn’t even want to get started on the slight indentation in her chin that might be a shadow but begged for a more-thorough investigation. Exploration of that particular area, or any area for that matter, wasn’t going to happen.
He stared down at her. “If I learned anything as a cop, it’s not to take any threat too lightly.” The lesson had been costly. His best friend’s sister had paid with her life. If he made the mistake again, what happened to her would all have been a waste, and he could never find a way to live with that.
“Look, Sam, you’re right about my parents. They’re lovely, caring people. But if you’re their daughter, those qualities are a double-edged sword.”
“Oh?”
Here it comes, he thought. Lawyer spin. He folded his arms over his chest and rested a hip against her desk, settling in for the long haul. At least the view was good, he thought, letting his gaze trace the defined curves and fullness of her mouth.
She cleared her throat. “When I was a kid, I practically had to get a dispensation from the pope to go out on a date, and even then, until I was over eighteen, my father either came along or shadowed us in his car.”
“You don’t say.”
“Then I insisted on going away to college, thinking I’d leave and find some independence.”
“And you didn’t?”
“A little. But they rented an apartment near campus and one or both of them were there a lot of the time. If they didn’t have a restaurant to run, they’d probably have gone to class with me.” She sighed. “I adore my mother and father, but their meddling reached the saturation point. And I’m sure they’d have followed me to New York if they could have found a way.”
“New York?” He noticed something about her. A subtle change.
“After law school, I went to work for a firm in New York.” She shrugged. “It looks good on a résumé.”
Uh-huh. As a detective, he’d done more interviews than the Human Resources Department at a Fortune 500 company. He’d found body language as revealing as dialogue. And when Jamie mentioned moving to the Big Apple, a look in her eyes, tightening around her mouth, told him there was more to it than beefing up her work history. It was personal. And he wanted to know about the guy, but he let it go. For