Her Lawman Protector. Patricia Johns
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face clean of makeup and her eyes all the more entrancing without the liner and mascara. She looked younger this way, softer. She was barefoot, and he noted that her toenails were painted hot pink. And he liked it.
“The towels are on the rack in the bathroom,” she said, heading toward her bedroom and opening the door. “If you’re hungry, feel free to raid the fridge. You’re guarding my life—it’s the least I can offer.”
Her lips turned up in a smile and she slipped into her room, then turned back. “Good night, Jack.”
His name on her lips sounded sweet, and he gave her a curt nod because it was all he trusted himself to do. He wasn’t faking to be her boyfriend here in her apartment. Here, he was a cop, and he needed to remind himself of that. Her big, dewy eyes, her lips, the milky whiteness of her skin—none of that was his business here. And for all he knew, she was working it to keep him distracted.
The bedroom door closed with a decisive click and Jack let out a pent-up breath. He was hoping he could sleep at all.
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