“Eh, it’s whatever. We’ve already rescheduled for next weekend.” A slow smirk lifted the other man’s lips. “Which means you have a week to either find the real killer or prove you’ve already met her.”
“Correction.” Archer grinned. “Wehave a week.”
4
“Stay close to me.”
Archer’s rumbled command came half a second before Cassie found herself being pulled into his protective embrace. The cool winter breeze carried with it notes of leather, spice, and something decidedly unique to only him.
But she had no time to savor the man’s arousing scent. She was too busy trying to shield her face from the trove of reporters littering the street in front of her house, her driveway, and front lawn.
“Why did you kill your husband?” a woman shouted from somewhere to her right.
Stepping over that absurd question was an equally ridiculous, “Did you really think you’d get away with murder?”
Ignoring the continued ratings-fueled interrogation, Archer kept her safe and secured at his side while they continued on their path to her home’s front entrance. As they moved, one overzealous reporter actually jumped onto the sidewalk near the steps leading to her porch, the jerk purposely blocking their path in an attempt to get the money shot.
“Move,” Archer ordered the man sharply. When the reporter refused to budge so much as an inch, her guardian lowered his voice to a low, deadly tone. “You’ve got two seconds to move your ass, or I’m moving it for you.”
Another bright flash of white had Cassie curling her body even further inward, bringing her impossibly closer to the one thing standing between her and the hungry mob.
“Suit yourself.” Archer didn’t wait for the jerk to wise up. Instead, he barreled forward, forcing his way past.
The reporter nearly lost his footing. “Hey, watch it!”
Maybe you should watch it. Or better yet, maybe you should take your nosey, uncaring friends and get the hell off my lawn.
Without giving the intrusive man a second glance, she was carefully guided her up the three steps leading to her door. Keeping her head down and her cheek pressed against his leather-clad chest, Cassie handed Archer the keys she’d already dug out of her purse.
Grumbling something inaudible beneath his breath, her protector unlocked the door and got her safely inside. But rather than shut out the rest of the world, as she’d expected, he sent her a quick glance and turned back for the door.
“Give me a second.”
Before she could ask what he intended to do, Archer was out the door, pulling it shut to keep her hidden from all the looky-loos. She inched closer, leaning her ear toward the spot where he’d just vanished.
Even from the other side of the thick, solid wood barrier, she could hear the man’s raised voice as clearly as if he were standing right beside her.
“Listen up!” Archer’s commanding voice boomed. “This is private property, and the cops are already on their way. So unless you all want to be slapped with a trespassing charge, harassment, and anything else I can think of, I suggest you getyourselves, your equipment, and your vehicles the hell out of here!”
As she was taking in her next breath, Archer reappeared, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Fucking vultures,” he muttered low enough she wasn’t sure he meant for her to hear. His broad shoulders fell as he blew out a frustrated exhale, those large, strong hands of his resting low on his narrow hips. “You okay?”
Cassie nodded, her gaze locking onto those dark, sultry eyes. “Thanks for that.”
For just a second—not even that, really—she could’ve sworn she saw something other than frustration burning within the deep, rich browns there. A flash of heat, perhaps?
But then…
“All part of the job.”
The job. Of course.
What was the matter with her? Was she really standing here, pondering whether or not this man found her attractive when her entire future was literally on the line?
What the hell are you doing? He’s not here on a date, Cass. He’s here to make sure you don’t rot in prison or die.
Clearing her throat, Cassie regrouped and refocused. “Are the police really on their way?”