Chapter Six

The woman was a helluva litigator as well as a walking wet dream wrapped in body-hugging silver.

From the back of the courtroom, Rick sat, silently observing Abby argue the case for her client. With each passing moment, he grew more and more impressed.

And hard.

Ever since she’d walked out of her bedroom, dressed for success in a color that turned her eyes the shade of freshly mined sapphires, Rick’s body had gone on hyperalert. The ice cold shower he’d doused himself under had done nothing to cool him down. One glance at the opened shoe closet in her bedroom, an image of Abby wearing any of the dozens of ice-pick stilettos sitting on the shelves—and nothing else—had severed the command connection with his brain and the lower half of his body.

From the looks of her closet, she had a serious and expensive shoe fetish. Rick sent himself a mental reminder to talk about the little obsession with her. Hopefully while she was wearing one of the sexy pairs.

And nothing else.

“Your Honor,” Abby said, “from everything Mr. Jansen’s client has stated today, you can see the reasons why my client should be granted primary custody. Mrs. Gillespie is simply the more stable parent. Job-wise, environmentally, and emotionally. She doesn’t travel for work like Mr. Gillespie does. Her parents live down the street and are available to help care for the child any time it would be necessary. Mr. Gillespie’s parents live in California, so anytime he’d need to travel for work—which is often, by his own admission—he would need to employ professional child care to ensure the child wasn’t left alone. It simply makes sense to grant primary custody to Mrs. Gillespie.”

The judge lifted his gaze to the opposition’s table. “Mr. Jensen, everything Ms. Laine says is true. You client travels extensively for his job. Granted, it’s a job paying more than three times what his ex-wife’s does, but a child needs more from a parent than merely a sound financial situation.”

“Of course, Your Honor.” The opposing lawyer stood. “My client understands that, which is why he’s been seeking an alternative to his present position that would afford him the luxury of traveling less.”

“Really?” The judge, to Rick’s mind, wasn’t impressed. “Any idea when or if that change might be coming about, Mr. Gillespie?”

The man rose. “I haven’t been given official word yet, Your Honor. But I’m hoping it will be soon.”

“Your Honor, if I may?”

“Go ahead, Ms. Laine.”

“This is the first mention of any change in his status. Nothing was said during the numerous custody negotiations nor prior to coming into court this morning. Respectfully, I’d like to ask when Mr. Gillespie was made aware of the possibility?”

With their heads together and their voices lowered, the men conferred with one another.

Getting their stories straight, ran through Rick’s mind.

“Your Honor?” Abby repeated.

“Mr. Jensen?”

The man stood again, buttoned his suit jacket, and slicked a hand through his temple.

“Your Honor, Mr. Gillespie has been working behind the scenes for some time to try and get his work situation changed. He never said anything before now because he wasn’t sure it was going to come to fruition.”

“And is it?” the judge asked.

“He’s…hopeful.”

“Be that as it may, Your Honor,” Abby said, “at present his position is unchanged. The minor has spent the last year shuffled between the two households due to the temporary custody agreed upon at the divorce. The child moves between his two parents every week, some weeks never even seeing Mr. Gillespie for more than a day due to his travel obligations. This is beginning to take a toll on the child. He is emotional, often inconsolable when he moves from one place to the other. His grades have begun to slip, and he was recently involved in a minor physical altercation in school. On behalf of my client, I implore the court to offer the child some sense of continuity and stability.”

Rick knew if he was the deciding judge, he’d rule in Abby’s favor. Her argument was heartfelt, well constructed, and had been delivered coolly yet compassionately, everything a legal argument, in his opinion, should be.

Fifteen minutes later, he followed her into the hallway, the judge informing both parties he’d have a decision by the end of the week.

Rick gave Abby and her client a moment of privacy once they were out of the courtroom. The middle-aged, slightly plump woman pulled Abby into a firm hug, murmured something in her ear, and then kissed her cheek before leaving.

Abby watched her go, then walked over to him.

“Pretty impressive, Counselor.” He reached down and took her briefcase from her hand. “I think the judge is gonna rule in your client’s favor. If it was up to me, I know I would.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s not up to you, and I’m not so sure he will. If he had been he would have ruled today instead of making us wait another week, which tells me he’s seriously considering Gillespie’s potential job change. If that happens any time before we convene again, it will weigh heavily in his favor and joint custody will be granted.”

While she’d been talking, she’d removed her cell phone from her jacket pocket and begun scrolling through her messages.

“I’ve missed calls from Tony and Verna.” She closed her eyes and murmured, “Mental coin toss. Tony first.”

Rick grinned and listened while she called the detective.

“They found Genocardi’s car?” he asked when she disconnected a few minutes later.

“At the Canadian border. Two state troopers spotted it, empty and abandoned in a Walmart parking lot. They think he’s going to try to cross the border, but he doesn’t have a passport. Michael doesn’t either.”

“You know that for sure?”

“Yes. I made certain of it when Lila first came to me. I was afraid Genocardi would bolt with the boy once he knew about Lila’s plan to leave him.”

“Why?”

She nailed him with a hard glare. “Experience.”

Which told him an awful lot about the clients she represented.

“Lots of ways to cross without papers,” he told her. “He doesn’t necessarily have to enter through Customs.”

“That sounds suspiciously like experience talking.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not,” he added when she frowned at him. “He could know someone who’ll help him gain entry illegally is all I’m saying.”

“Let’s hope not, because if he does, this becomes an international case, and I don’t know how he’ll be caught, then.” She muttered, “What a mess,” before dialing her office. “Hey, Verna. What’s up?”

Rick shifted her briefcase from one hand to the other and glanced around. The long hallway was empty, save for the two of them, so when Abby exclaimed, “What?” the word bounced and echoed off the walls surrounding them.

Instinctively, he shot his hand out to grab her arm.

“When?”

Rick squeezed her arm, took a step closer. She pulled out of his hold and started walking down the hallway.

He followed.

“Oh, my God. Was anyone with him?…Mary. Jesus, Mary? Is she…No…no. I’m heading back to the office now…no. Okay.”

Not much fazed Rick. Not being shot at. Not walking into an ambush. Not even hearing his best friend was going to marry one of the most famous women in the food world. But when Abigail Laine bent at the waist, a strangling sob pushing between her lips, Rick’s heart all but stopped.

Yanking her up, not mindful of being careful with her at all, he demanded, “What happened?”

If the shock of her doubling over wasn’t enough to terrify him, the wave of pain drowning in her eyes was. Her color had gone from a healthy, rosy pink, to ash.

He dropped her briefcase and slipped his arms around her. The staccato tremors wracking her body made him tighten his grip.

“Sweetheart, talk to me. Why are you so upset? Is it Kandy? The baby—” Jesus. He didn’t want to even think about that.

“N-no. No. They’re fine.” The words muffled against his shirt. Rick kept her body against his as he ran one hand gingerly down her trembling back.

“Tell me. Talk to me.”

She sniffed, then shifted away from him a bit. The sight of her lips quivering had him wondering if she was going into shock.

“It’s not Kandy,” she told him, pushing back further from his hold.

Rick wouldn’t let her go. “Tell me.”

“It’s Marty Fields. He’s…he’s dead.”

Okay, not family, but close enough. “How?”

“Verna said he was mugged on his way home last night. Stabbed and…left. Oh, my God!”

Fresh falling snow had more color than her skin. Her eyes rolled, and her hands loosened on his arms. Right before he feared she’d faint, he scooped her up and carried her to a visitor bench stationed against one of the hallway walls.

“Breathe,” he commanded after shoving her onto it and guided her head between her legs. He gripped the back of her neck and held her there as her hair billowed around her face.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Slowly. In. Out. That’s right. Again.”

After a few moments, she pushed against his fingers. “I’m okay.” Her voice, small and weak, sounded anything but.

Rick crouched in front of her and removed his hand. “You sure?”

She rose, slowly, and pushed her hair back from her face. The waxen hue in her cheeks was gradually brightening to pink again. “Yeah. I’m sure.” She dragged in a breath and fluttered her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she peered straight at him. “I’m okay.”

He slipped one of her hands into his. Eyes widening, she glanced down at where he’d twined his fingers with hers and then back up to him. He’d think later about who was more surprised by the gesture.

“Tell me what you know,” he said.

“Marty’s secretary, Ashley, called this morning to ask if I’d heard the news. Verna told her I was in court. Ashley said Marty’d left the office late last night. Apparently, he’s got a big trial coming up soon. He’s been working ridiculous hours prepping.” She pushed an errant swatch of hair behind her ear. “Marty never takes car service. He always made sure we did if we worked past a certain hour, but he never allowed himself the same luxury. He always said riding the subway late at night helped him think. He was standing, waiting for the train when…”

He squeezed her hand and moved closer.

Abby’s voice warbled. “Someone came up to him on the platform. St-stabbed him…and then…ran away.”

Something didn’t sit right with that description. “You said he was mugged?”

“Yes.”

“So the person took his wallet? His personal belongings? Cell phone, whatever?”

She cocked her head and squinted at him. “Verna didn’t say. I assume he was robbed. I mean, why wouldn’t he be? If you’re going to stab him, incapacitate him, why wouldn’t you rob him?”

Rick stayed silent.

Abby stared down at her cell phone. “I can’t believe this happened. We spoke just last month. He called me, heard about one of my cases and wanted to congratulate me on the win. Told me he was…so…proud of me.” She shook her head. “That’s Marty. Always a word of praise for everyone.” She sighed again. “I want to get back to the office. I’ve got a client this afternoon, and I want to call Mary, Marty’s wife. See if I can…do…anything. Help in anyway.”

Rick grabbed her briefcase from where he’d dropped it, then stood. “Come on, then.”

It wasn’t until they reached his car he realized he’d held her hand the entire way from the courthouse to the parking garage.

****

The nagging headache jiggling for birth while in court had blossomed into a conga line complete with bongo drums and a ten piece brass band by the time she arrived back at her office. Two cups of calming tea had done nothing to quell the hammering and she was loathe to take anything medicinal while at work, so she’d let the afternoon pass without garnering relief.

After calling her old office and speaking with the grief-stricken secretary, Abby’d then met with two clients, left a message on Tony Pecorrini’s voicemail, and at the end of the day had trekked back to the hospital to check on Lila. There’d been no apparent change in her status, but the nurse in charge had offered some hope, telling her Lila’s vital signs were improving hourly.

Rick had silently followed behind her, acting as chauffeur and briefcase carrier, holding doors and listening when she’d shared memories of working for Marty.

Abby had to admit having him at the courthouse with her had been a godsend. She’d been so overcome by the news, had she been alone she truthfully didn’t know how she’d have handled it. Rick’s calm presence helped ease the emotional bite of the tragic news. Having him with her the rest of the day had proven beneficial as well.

As she was putting her key in the lock, the apartment door next to hers flew open.

“Oh, Abby. Good. I’m glad I caught you.”

Abby smiled, despite the headache pounding behind her eyes. “Hi, Mrs. Carney.”

Her neighbor’s gaze bounced off Rick, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead in a question.

“This is my…friend. Rick.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

Mrs. Carney’s smile was broad and welcoming. “My, aren’t you tall.”

He smiled down at her.

“What’s up?” Abby asked.

“I wanted to tell you Danielle made honor roll.”

“That’s wonderful.” She gave the woman a hug. “Tell her I’m proud of her.”

“Will do. If it wasn’t for all your help, well, I don’t know how to thank you. Dani’s thriving, and she’s been so happy.” The woman’s eyes filled. “I won’t keep you,” she said, dabbing at the corners with a tissue, “but I wanted to make sure you knew.”

“If I can be of any more help, please let me know.”

“Oh, you’ve done so much already, Abby. Truly.”

Abby reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand.

As soon as they were through her door, Rick asked, “What did you do for her?”

Abby bent and picked up a meowing Moonlight. While she walked with her into the kitchen, she said, “Her daughter ran off to Vegas for a weekend that turned into a month and left her twelve-year-old daughter all alone in their apartment, and not for the first time. When Mrs. Carney found out, she asked me how she could petition the courts to gain custody of Danielle. I pointed her in the right direction.” She poured food into a bowl and put it and Moonlight down on the floor.

“And now she lives with Grandma?”

“Yeah.” The headache made itself known, loudly. It burst hot and bright from within her, pushing up from her shoulder blades straight to the top of her head. She had to relent and take something because she knew if she didn’t, her vision would soon start to blur, and she still needed to get some reading done before tomorrow. Plus, she needed to call Mary Fields and offer whatever help she could. And then there was Lila Genocardi and her missing son and husband to think about.

When had her life turned into this stressful jumble?

Abby grabbed the bottle of extra-strength pain reliever she kept in her kitchen junk drawer, shook out three tablets, and swallowed them with a small glass of tap water.

“Head that bad?” Rick asked from behind her.

“I let it go too long.” She rolled her neck, massaged a muscle where it connected with her shoulder. “I should have gotten in front of it right when it started in court. But I don’t like to take anything when I’m working. The pills make me fuzzyheaded.“

Rick reached around her and grabbed the bottle from the counter. “These are plain over-the-counter tablets. I’d think you’d have something stronger, something prescribed, for when the pain gets this bad. I can see the headache all over your face and shoulders. You’re wearing the pain like you’d wear makeup.”

“You can’t know what a boost to my fragile ego having you here is, Bannerman.”

“Your ego is fine,” he said, moving a step closer.

Her kitchen was huge by Manhattan standards. She could have four people stand in it and still have room to cook around them. Not so when Rick was with her. Sure, he was tall, but so were her brothers-in-law. They never made her feel like her personal space was so congested when they were visiting, though.

“Turn around,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me. Turn around, Abigail.”

“Bossy, much?”

The low, deep rumble of his chuckle sent the tiny hairs on her neck up to attention.

“When I have to be,” he said. “Believe me, for once you’ll be glad you listened.”

“Doubtful,” she murmured. Reluctantly, she presented him with her back.

“Take a breath,” he told her. “A deep one. And hold it for a few seconds.”

She did.

“Now let it out, slowly. Count to five in your head while you do.”

“What is this, Bannerman? Some Vulcan mind-trick cure for a headache? Because if it is, it’s not—oh! Oh…my.” The last word scattered out in one long exhale.

“Told you you’d be glad you listened.”

The pressure of his thumbs on either side of her shoulders, a hair below the collar of her blouse as they kneaded, pressed, and drew little circles around her constricted muscles, shot a wave of intense pleasure straight down the length of her spine.

Abby closed her eyes and sighed. “Oh, good Lord. Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

“Your neck is so tight, I’m surprised your spine doesn’t snap when you walk in those stilts you love so much. It’s a wonder you can move at all with any kind of flexibility.”

“Practice.” She all but purred like her cat when his thumbs sank into her flesh. “And motivation. That feels…amazeballs.”

She swore she could hear his grin. He replaced his thumbs with the pads of his first and second fingers, pressed in deep, released, and then did it again.

“Amazeballs, Abigail? How old are you?”

“Oh! I’ll be any age you want me to be, but don’t stop…please.”

His chuckle turned to a laugh. “I can’t tell you how much I like hearing you beg. Take another deep breath.”

Obediently, since she now knew the benefits of being so, she did. “Oh. My. God.”

He’d wound his long, strong fingers up under her hairline. While he flexed them, massaging every bit of her skull, a thousand jolts of electricity bounded down her back. Her legs turned liquid. She needed to sit down before she fell flat to the floor.

“Stop wiggling. Try to hold still,” he said, dangerously close to her ear. The warmth of his breath as it whispered over her neck delightfully singed her skin. “There’s one pressure point I haven’t gotten to yet.”

“I can’t feel my feet.” Good Lord. Did that moan come from her?

“Good. Then this is working. Give me another minute.”

“You can have all night, Bannerman. As long as you want. Just don’t stop.”

For the briefest of moments, so brief she might have imagined it, he stopped kneading, a swift inhale ringing around her. Then, in a heartbeat, he started his ministrations again. For the first time Abby noticed their bodies were touching, the middle of her back pressed along his torso.

While his fingers skimmed up to her temples, she tilted backward, bumping her head against his chest. He was as solid as a block of concrete.

Rick inhaled a jagged breath when the rest of her body pressed into him.

He had the pads of three fingers against her temples now, the concentric circles he pressed and released over them drawing out little mewing noises from the back of her throat. When his pinkies joined their brothers, all four fingers of each hand now splayed along her skin, feathered into her hairline, Abby rolled her neck back and opened her eyes a fraction. Upside down, she saw the edge of Rick’s jaw, watched—fascinated—as his throat bobbed up and down while he continued attending to her.

“I’m almost done. Hold on for another sec.”

She let her eyes drift closed again. Rick moved his hands so they cupped the back of her neck, then, slowly, he brought her head away from his chest to an upright position, leaving his palms flattened across her shoulder blades.

“Take a breath and lift your shoulders,” he commanded.

Abby did, then rolled her head front to back.

“How’s the headache now?”

She opened her eyes and blinked. “Gone.” She whirled around to face him. “Completely gone.”

He nodded and flexed his fingers as if working out his own kinks. “Good. I’m glad it worked.”

“Where did you learn how to do that?” She slid a hand along one side of her neck, tilted her head, then moved it in the opposite direction. “I don’t think my shoulders have been this loose since, well, fourth grade.”

“You spend a lot of time hunched over.” He opened her fridge and pulled out two bottled waters. “Computer. Legal briefs. It’s no wonder your shoulders are tight and you’re susceptible to migraines.”

“How did you know I had migraines?” She took a swig of the water. “I mean, as opposed to regular bad headaches?”

“You wear the pain on your face. It’s obvious to anyone who knows what to look for.”

“And you do?”

He nodded. “Drink the whole bottle and then you need to eat. You haven’t had anything all day. It’s a wonder you aren’t dropping.”

He bent and peeked into the refrigerator. Sipping her water, she took the opportunity to stare at his butt.

“What’s this?” he asked, standing upright and holding a filled glass container.

“Vegetable soup. Kandy made a batch the other day. She knows I don’t like to eat too heavy if I’ve been working late.”

“Where are your pots?”

Abby cocked her head. “Why?”

“You’d rather eat cold soup?”

“Eww. No, of course not.”

He started opening the cabinets under the kitchen counter. When he pulled out a pot and lid, he pushed passed her to the stove.

“Go sit down,” he told her. “I’ll bring you a bowl when it’s heated.”

Abby blinked a few times as he ladled the soup into the pot. “Who are you and what have you done with Rick Bannerman, the king of takeout?”

He ignored her.

“Do you even know how to turn the stove on?”

“Yes.” The word practically growled from him. “I’m not completely lame when it comes to food prep. I simply like the convenience of takeout. Now go sit down.”

“There’s that bossiness again, Bannerman.”

“Abigail.”

For the first time in all the memories she had of him saying her dreaded name, she actually didn’t mind it. It was kind of…cute. In a totally annoying way.

Moonlight rubbed against her ankles, so Abby scooped her up and brought her into the living room. When she sat down onto the couch, the cat snuggled in her arms and purred like a jet engine revving.

“There’s a loaf of Kandy’s herb bread wrapped in aluminum foil in the fridge,” she said. “It’ll go good with the soup.”

With a dishtowel tucked into the waistband of his pants, he looked much the same way her brother-in-law Ky did when he cooked for Gemma, all big and burly and…domestic. What would it be like to come home every night to something like that? To a man who loved you enough to take care of you? Who’d kiss away a grueling day and snuggle on the couch to watch movies with you on a rainy Sunday afternoon?

The scenario was one Abby never let herself imagine, knowing full well a lasting relationship wasn’t in the cards for her. She’d watched her mother suffer through her husband’s countless and endless affairs, always promising to remain faithful, then breaking the promise. No one, in Abby’s opinion, should be treated the way her mother had.

When Marty Fields encouraged her to go to law school, she finally saw a path for herself. She’d been unable to help her mother as a child, but she could help other women in the same position Hannah had been in, now, as an adult.

Thinking about Marty sent a cloud of sadness drifting through her.

“Soup’s ready.”

Abby opened her eyes, blinked Rick’s image into focus.

“You zoned out for a bit.” He placed two bowls on the counter. “I figured you needed it. But now you need to eat.”

A quick retort died on her lips. When she shifted, Moonlight’s nails pierced through her skirt. It was then she realized she hadn’t changed out of her daywear like she usually did when she came home.

“This smells great.” Abby reached for the bread. “It’s warm.”

“Why are you so surprised? I do know how to reheat food, Abigail.”

She rolled her eyes at him, then dunked a piece of the bread into the soup and took a bite. Her eyes drifted closed as she sighed at the explosion of herbs and yeast washed over her taste buds. “I love my sister. So much.”

She opened them again at Rick’s smooth snigger.

They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“That hit the spot.” She dropped her spoon on the table after she’d emptied her bowl. “I didn’t realize I was so hungry.”

“It’s no wonder you had a headache. You skipped breakfast and lunch.”

“I only eat breakfast on the weekends. And I usually get lunch, but today, well.” She shrugged.

“You want any more?” When she shook her head, he stood and took their bowls to the sink.

“I cooked,” he said. “You clean. I’ve some calls to make, and I want to get them done before it gets any later.”

“You reheated,” she said, moving into the kitchen with him. “There’s a difference.”

With a hip resting against the counter, his crossed arms over his chest, Abby had to repress both a giggle at the firm glare he tossed at her and a shudder at how sexy and powerful his pumped arms were.

“Does that look really intimidate people?”

“What look?”

“This one.” She folded her arms, mimicking his posture, dropped her chin a bit then squinched her brows in, glaring at him through half-closed lids. She pursed her lips together and lifted her shoulders.

When his mouth twitched in one corner, a little niggle of awareness tickled low in her belly.

“You missed your calling,” he said, shaking his head. “You should have been an actress.”

“I’m thinking mime, because you know I just nailed you to the wall.”

His grin died at her words.

“What?”

The sudden blare of her cell phone stopped whatever he was about to say.

“It’s Tony,” she told him.

“No sign of Genocardi,” the detective said. “But we’ve got the boy.”

“What? How?” Before he could speak she said, “Wait. I’m going to put you on speaker.”

“The cops found the car, like I told you, at a Walmart. The kid told his old man he had to go to the bathroom. Genocardi did, too. The minute he went into a stall, the kid bolted. Ran back into the store screaming bloody murder. Took a while before anyone paid any attention to him. No security in the store, so the manager called the cops. By the time they got there, no sign of Genocardi.”

“But you’ve got Michael? He’s not hurt?”

“Shaken up and scared, but no signs of any outward abuse. State cops held him for us, gave him something to eat. We’re flying back with him tonight, and I’m gonna take him to see his mother. I wanted to give you a heads-up he’s okay.”

“Was he able to tell you anything about his father? Where they were? If he knows what his father is planning?”

“Reno and me are gonna question him tomorrow. We can’t, legally, now because he’s a minor and we don’t have a parent or a guardian to give us permission. The aunt can stand in for the mom tomorrow.”

“I want to be there, too. Just let me know when.”

“Will do. And don’t worry, Abby. We’ll find this guy.”

After disconnecting, Abby let out a huge sigh. “That’s certainly a relief.”

“For the boy. But Genocardi is still out there, so he’s still a threat to you.”

Abby shook her head. “I disagree. I’m probably the last thing on his mind right now, uppermost would be making sure he’s not caught. There’s no reason to think I’m any kind of blip on his radar.”

She started running the water in the sink to rinse the bowls. Rick reached over her and turned the water off.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Because I need you to listen to me, and I don’t want you distracted. You need to hear what I’m saying.”

“You do realize how insulting you sound, don’t you, Bannerman? I can do more than one thing at time.”

“I don’t care how I sound, you need to listen. Just because Genocardi’s on the run, it doesn’t mean you’re off his radar. Stop. Let me finish,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest.

Frowning, she mumbled, “Insulting and arrogant.”

Rick took another step closer to her, forcing her to tilt her head back.

“He may have been able to sneak over the border,” Rick said, “but my guess is he didn’t. I’m gonna bet he stays true to form and heads back here to try to get his son. He has to figure the cops are going to bring the boy here, if not to his mother, then to her sister. He may not know his wife is still alive, but he knows her sister is.”

“Do you think he’d try to hurt Maria?”

“Maybe. He wants his boy. Remember, the minute after he attacked his wife, he went for him. If he thinks Maria has his son, assuming he doesn’t know Lila is alive, he may make a play for her. And I’m gonna bet your detective buddy has already realized it. I would if I was him.”

Abby’s stomach threatened to rid itself of the soup. “If that’s true, we have to tell Tony. They need to be protected. All of them. Josh—”

“Already knows. I spoke to him when you were with your clients this afternoon. He’s already placed people, discreetly, at the sister’s home.”

Cold fury replaced the nausea swelling up inside her. “You called Josh? Told him about Genocardi?”

He shook his head. “Lower your voice. I’m standing right next to you.”

She fisted her hands at her sides and dragged in a breath. Her jaw barely moved when she said, “After I specifically asked you not to and you promised me you wouldn’t tell him?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell Kandy.” He shook his head. “Josh is another story.”

“You’re a moron if you think he didn’t tell her, Bannerman.”

“He didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. Josh doesn’t want her upset any more than you do. I didn’t even have to tell him my concerns about Genocardi. He figured it out before I ever said a word. He was all set to send protection for you.”

“Why didn’t he then??”

“Because I told him I had the situation under control and not to worry.”

“And by situation, you mean me?”

“Calm down, Abigail—”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down.”

He dipped his head, barely an inch, but it brought it almost in contact with her forehead. His eyes narrowed and lasered in on hers.

“Listen to me.” His voice had lowered several notches, and Abby could imagine most people would be terrified by the menacing growl.

Not her. She’d made a career of standing up to men who needed to control everything in their worlds. Ignoring the warning rumble in his tone, anger got the better of her. She unfurled her hands and pushed against his chest with flattened palms.

“No, you listen to me, Bannerman. Let’s get one thing straight. Right now and forever after. You are not responsible for me. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing so for a very long time without your help or the help of any man. You. Do. Not. Control. Me. In any way, shape or form. Not now, not ever.”

“God damn it! I never said anything about controlling you.”

“Yes, you did. You told Josh you had the situation under control.”

“Yes. Meaning your protection from a man who may be out to harm you. Christ, Abigail. My job is to see to your well-being, to make sure you’re not harmed, not to control you. Where do you even come up with something like that?”

“It’s the same thing, and you know it. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you around every second, hovering. And stop calling me Abigail.”

For the rest of her life, she’d remember the mortification that rushed through her when she’d stomped her foot with the command.

Something flashed in Rick’s eyes, fast and bright and dangerous. “You are without doubt the most stubborn, pig-headed woman I’ve ever met.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” she spat.

His eyes narrowed to two blackened slits. “You think you can protect yourself from a guy like Genocardi, Abigail?” His voice was even lower than it had been a moment ago. Deeper. Darker. “Because you live in a building where you need to buzz people in, you think he won’t be able to get to you? What about when you’re at work? Or hailing a cab? Or on your way into court? There are a million scenarios I can come up with. A million little ways someone pissed off and determined can get to you. To anyone.”

He shifted, one of his knees sliding between her legs as he moved in even closer.

“When I told Josh I had the situation under control, I meant your safety wasn’t going to be compromised. Not by anyone or anything. Not while I’m around.” His eyes went flat again, his mouth turning hard and determined. “Never while I’m around.”

Abby wasn’t afforded the luxury of a response, because as soon as he put a period on his declaration, his mouth fastened on to hers. His hands moved to cradle her scalp much the way he had when he’d been massaging her headache away. This time though his grip wasn’t calming and soothing; it was possessive and greedy. He held her captive with his hands, his body, his mouth.

Mother of God!

This kiss was different from the one they’d shared at Kandy’s wedding.

Before, mild seduction, light-hearted flirtation, and sexual banter had surrounded them. Plus, she’d been the instigator, knowing she had to do something to get his attention.

This time, she was on the receiving end. Rick had made the first move, and if she wasn’t mistaken, flirtation had nothing to do with it.

Abby tasted frustration and knew it was filled with pent-up desire and sexual heat screaming to be let unleashed. Like a smoldering volcano bubbling up to spew, this frustration needed some kind of release before it detonated.

She slid her hands up to wind around his neck. Rick stepped closer into her, dropped his hands from her head and cupped them around her butt, pulling her up on her toes. Through her clothing she could feel each and every angle of his body as it pressed firmly against her.

Every hard inch of it.

One hand trailed back up over her hip, passed her waist, to the side of her breast. Abby’s breath caught when his fingers skimmed across the puckered, aching peak through her bra. She didn’t think it was possible for her nipples to get any harder, but as soon as his knuckles brushed across the swollen tip, they tingled and pulled, shooting a bullet of need straight down to her pelvis. She arched, giving him full access, and when he pinched the distended nub between his two first fingers, pain and pleasure combined in a hot whirlwind of lust. Her thighs instinctively pressed together against his knee, seeking release, seeking…more.

Rick must have known what he was doing to her, sensed the fury rushing through her at his touch, because he gentled the kiss and glided his lips across her jaw.

“Shhh.” Warm, moist air blew across her skin. He kissed the spot behind her ear and Abby tilted her head to give him total access.

His tongue swept back to her mouth, then tugged at her own like he wanted to devour her whole. A feral moan hummed from deep down inside her. When it vibrated against their joined lips, Rick jerked back just like he had at the wedding. This time, though, he not only looked confused, he looked savage and raw and so damn hot she was thankful to be braced against the sink, because one glance at the desire scorching his eyes drained her of the ability to stand unaided.

Rick tugged his gaze from her face down to where his hands still caressed her body. Slowly, so slowly she held her breath waiting to see what he’d do, he removed them and dropped them to his sides.

With his eyes zeroed in on hers again, Rick took a step back, then another, until there was more than enough room for her to move around him.

“You wanted to call Fields’ wife before it got too late.” His voice shook with the words. He cleared it and added, “You should go call her. Now.” Another step back and his shoulders hit the refrigerator. “I’ve got some work to finish up, so…”

He turned and fled the room.

Abby took a deep breath, slid a hand across her stomach, and gently rubbed the quivering area.

Wow. Just…just, wow.