“Rare or well-done?”
“Huh?” She blinked as he shot her a curious glance over his shoulder.
“Your steak—rare, medium or well-done?”
“I grew up on a cattle ranch. I like mine medium rare and juicy.”
His eyes flicked to her chest and back to her face so quickly she might have imagined it. “Juicy, it is.”
She dug into his silverware drawer and grabbed a handful of utensils. Had he read her thoughts? Probably just looked at her face, which would forever preclude her from being a professional poker player.
The microwave beeped and he turned from the sizzling steaks. “That’s your asparagus. I have some butter over here, unless you prefer something fancier.”
“I prefer...butter.” She turned and grabbed the bowl of asparagus from the microwave and felt like replacing it with her head. If that’s the best she could do at seduction, the only beef she’d get tonight would be that medium-rare steak. She giggled. She’d been hanging around Courtney too long.
“Something funny about the asparagus?”
“Well, there is something inherently funny about the vegetable, isn’t there.” She plucked a hot spear from the bowl with her fingertips and held it up. “It even looks like a...”
She bit off the end of the asparagus and practically choked on it.
Sean cleared his throat. “Phallic symbol?”
Popping the rest of the spear in her mouth, she nodded. She should’ve been paying more attention to Courtney over the past year of their friendship. She was pretty sure her friend wouldn’t be using asparagus as a tool of seduction.
Sean stabbed the steaks with a long fork and dropped them onto two plates. “I think I got that medium rare. Let me know your expert opinion.”
“Actually, I’ve probably had one steak since hightailing it out of Montana.”
“Uh-oh. Is this steak going to bring up bad memories and make you head for the hills?”
“I think I can handle it. Steak sauce?”
“In the fridge.”
He stood by his chair until she sat down across from him. “We make a good team...in the kitchen.”
She took a gulp of water. She had to get out of dangerous territory. Clutching her fork and steak knife, she said, “I think we make a pretty good investigative team, too. Is there any way we can unseal Dr. Patrick’s files now that he’s dead?”
Sean didn’t seem to mind the shift in topic, and his brow furrowed as he cut into his steak. “That’s what’s been bothering me, one of many things. If the department knew my father was seeing Dr. Patrick at the time of his...death, I would’ve thought they’d demand his records.”
“Maybe they did.”
“But they left everything as unsolved. Those murders are still cold cases. If Dr. Patrick’s sessions with my father had proved his innocence or guilt, it would’ve come out.”
“Did you ever ask anyone?”
“I wasn’t aware that my father even saw Dr. Patrick until we discussed it this morning.” He put down his fork with a piece of meat stuck to the end, a frown still marring his features.
“What is it?”
“Don’t you think it’s an incredible coincidence that the day I discover Dr. Patrick saw my father, the good doctor winds up dropping dead of a heart attack?”
“Yes, especially since he died at my feet. But what are you saying? A heart attack is a heart attack. Do you think my visit caused his heart attack?” She ran crisscrosses on her plate with her fork.
“Seems like he suffered the attack just before you arrived.”
“What’s your point, Sean?”
“Heart attacks can be induced.”
She dropped her fork. “You think someone killed Dr. Patrick by injecting him with something that caused his heart to fail?”
“It’s too coincidental, Elise. It’s unbelievable that his death occurred the very day we found him.”
“And it’s believable that someone killed him? Why would someone want to kill Dr. Patrick before he could tell you anything about your father?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He picked up his fork and took the piece of steak between his teeth.
“If you don’t believe your father had anything to do with those murders twenty years ago and he was never formally charged or convicted, does it really matter anymore? You are secure in your beliefs, aren’t you?”
He chewed, swallowed, took a sip of water and gazed over her shoulder. Then his eyes tracked back to her face, and she saw the doubt in their depths. “Maybe that’s it, Elise.”
She had to hunch forward to catch his words, and she caught his hand at the same time. “It’s okay to have that uncertainty, Sean. It’s not being disloyal. You were a kid at the time.”
“I don’t want to believe it.” He twisted his fingers around hers. “The man who taught me everything, the man I looked up to, couldn’t be a cold-blooded killer. He would’ve had to have been a complete sociopath.” Without losing his hold on her hand, he slumped back in his chair. “That’s the scary part. I know they exist. I know there are people out there who act just like you and me—who love and laugh and feel pain—but it’s all a pretense. They feel nothing at all.”
“It’s more than just proving your father’s innocence to the world. You have to prove it to yourself. I get that.”
“How did we get here?” He loosened his grip on her fingers and traced her knuckles with the pad of one finger. “You have a killer sending you notes, launching sneak attacks and you just had a man die at your feet. And you’re trying to make me feel better.”
“You’ve done more than enough, more than I ever expected from that moment you sat down next to me in the emergency room. You’ve been by my side, going beyond the call of duty to protect me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m just paying you back.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Is that what you think this is all about? Protection? Securing a witness?”
The pulse in her wrist ticked up several notches. Could he feel it? “I’m the only witness you have right now.”
He chuckled in the back of his throat, and the low sound sent a line of tingles racing down to her toes.
“The SFPD is not in the bodyguarding business. We’re not going to put you in the Witness Protection Program. It’s not like you have the goods on a mobster or anything.” He scooted his chair back and tossed his napkin onto the table. “Everything I’ve done for you has been off the books and off the clock.”
She twisted her own napkin in her lap as she tilted her head back to take in his imposing figure. “Why’d you do it?”
“Do you have to ask?” He dropped into a crouch in front of her, like a beast ready to pounce. “You may be a kindergarten teacher from Podunk, Montana, but you’re also the runaway bride. You’re the woman in my kitchen waving around asparagus and talking about juicy slabs of meat.”
She choked. “I...I...”
In one fluid movement, he rose to his full height, catching her under the arms and taking her with him. He supported the back of her head with one hand and pulled her close with an arm wrapped around her waist.
He stared into her face, his lips centimeters from her own, so close she felt the scorching heat of his breath. “I want you, Elise Duran. I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you bundled up