Dead Aim. Anne Woodard
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shifted in the battered office chair to get a better view of the short hall outside the coffee shop’s cramped office. Steve was busy behind the front counter, but Sharon Digby, the other employee due on tonight, had a useful habit of coming in early.
“Dornier’s brother’s here,” she said, keeping her voice low.
That caught her listener’s attention. “Her brother? He was in Montana yesterday. We checked.”
“Yeah, well he’s here now, and he’s already been around town talking to people. His mother called him. He must have driven all night to get here.”
“Great. Just great.” Another pause at the end of the line. “Is he going to be a problem?”
The door from the shop opened. Maggie craned for a better look, then slid back a ways, out of sight. She waited until she heard the rest room door lock behind the customer before she spoke again.
“He hit the police station. Bursey spun him some story about college kids and hormones being more appealing than class work.”
“He talked to Bursey?”
“Bursey talked to him. Made a point of it.”
More silence while her listener digested that information. Then, “You think he knows anything?”
“No.” She thought about that, then added, “Not yet. Playing cop isn’t his thing, but he’s smart and tough.”
“Guess you’d have to be if you chase grizzlies for a living.” There wasn’t any humor behind the words.
“He’s worried about his sister.”
She fell silent at the sound of a toilet flushing, then water running. The rest room door opened, followed by footsteps heading back. The noise of conversation and the espresso machine working rose as the hall door opened, then dimmed as it swung shut. She craned to be sure the customer was gone, waiting for the confirming click of the latch as the door closed behind them.
“He’s planning on visiting Good Times tonight,” she said at last. “I’m going with him.”
“All right. But keep a sharp eye on him. We can’t afford to have any trouble at this point in the game.”
Maggie frowned at the cluttered bulletin board on the wall above the desk, annoyed. “Anything else you want to tell me? Like how to tie my shoes or blow my nose?”
“Don’t be so damned touchy. And yeah, there’s something I want to tell you. Don’t go off on your own. You’re not a superhero.”
She grinned. “Wanna bet?”
“Dammit!”
“You can say that again.” This time, she wasn’t smiling.
She set the receiver back in its cradle without bothering to say goodbye.
She knew exactly what he’d meant.
Dornier had his jacket on and was waiting near the counter when Maggie emerged. He looked a little tired, but Maggie would swear she sensed a tension in him that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier. He didn’t say anything, however, and she didn’t ask.
“Steve, I’ve gotta go,” she said to the young man behind the counter. “Sharon should be in shortly. Think you can handle things until then?”
Steve grinned. “Sure. You know me.”
Maggie blew him a teasing kiss. Her odd hours and occasional, abrupt departures had raised a few eyebrows at the beginning, but everyone was used to them by now. She’d worked hard to make sure they were.
She turned to Rick Dornier and found him studying her.
Again there was that odd jolt of intense awareness.
There was nothing rude or even particularly sexual in the way he looked at her, yet still it unsettled her. It was one thing for him to be attracted to her—that might prove useful. But the last thing she needed now was to be as conscious of him as a man as he was of her as a woman.
She forced the feeling down. She couldn’t afford to let anything distract her or throw her off balance. Not right now.
Somehow, without even trying, Rick Dornier managed to do both.
“Ready?” was all she said.
“Ready.” Before she could stop him, he took her jacket out of her hands and held it up so she could slip it on.
Maggie hesitated, then turned to allow him to help her, silently chiding herself for letting so simple a gesture catch her off guard like that. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She started to move away from him, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Hold on a second. Your collar’s turned.”
There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the way he flipped her collar over, then smoothed it into place, yet her body tensed involuntarily and the back of her neck burned where he touched her. She would swear she could still feel the heat of his hand where it had rested on her shoulder.
He flicked her unruly curls out from beneath her collar and stepped back. “There. That should do it.”
She kept her head down and tugged up the zipper. Her throat felt tight and her breathing was fast and a little shallow, but she managed to keep her words light, teasing, in keeping with the Maggie everyone at Joe’s thought they knew.
“Are all you Montana guys so well mannered?”
He laughed. The sound of it set her pulse racing.
“Blame it on my dad. He was hell on good manners.”
He held the door for her, then automatically took the street side of the sidewalk even if there weren’t any cars to defend her from.
“My car’s parked just around the corner,” she said, forcing herself to look up at him.
She refused to admit that she was disappointed when she found he was scanning the street rather than looking at her.
“I’m a couple blocks farther down,” he said. Yet when she turned the corner, he turned with her.
“You don’t have to walk me to my car, you know.” She couldn’t quite suppress the irritation in her voice. “It’s not that late, and Fenton isn’t that dangerous.”
“That’s good. Which car’s yours?”
“The red Subaru.” She punched the automatic entry button on her key ring. The car beeped and unlocked the doors. The system was a safety mechanism, one she’d relied on more than once when she had to get away fast. Once, it had almost cost her her life.
He waited on the sidewalk while she walked around to the driver’s side.
“I’ll meet you at the bar, all right?” she said, silently willing him to go away now so she could get herself under control.
“Fine.”
He was still standing there when she slid behind the wheel.
Maggie switched the key in the ignition. The Subaru’s engine raced a little, then settled into a steady, comforting purr.
And he was still standing there.
Cursing herself for a fool, she leaned over and opened the passenger’s side door.
“Get in. I’ll drive you to your car.”
It figured. The one man who had the power to addle her wits just by looking at her was also well mannered and annoyingly overprotective. And that was dangerously appealing, too. She would have to be extra careful. She didn’t dare let herself get involved.
The Subaru was fairly roomy, but Rick Dornier took up a lot more space than she liked. She