In His Safekeeping. Shawna Delacorte

efficient at her job of being their software expert and maintaining the computer system. No matter what the problem, she had it fixed immediately. Any difficulty accessing files or finding information on the Internet and she was a whiz at handling it. In fact, she exactly fit his concept of a computer-nerd stereotype…straight brown hair worn short with bangs, medium-brown eyes, horn-rimmed glasses, about twenty pounds overweight, most of which seemed to be on her hips and around her waist probably due to lack of exercise, very little makeup, quiet and kept to herself. She was short compared to his six-one height. He guessed she topped out at five foot three.

      He listened until he heard the front door close, then grabbed the John Vincent folder from the file room. He made copies of everything to take with him—something very definitely against the rules. Then he went to his cubicle to do some computer research. He needed information that he couldn’t access from his computer at home, and during office hours there was too much of a chance that someone would see what he was doing. He worked quickly, finding and printing out what he wanted.

      As soon as he finished he drove back to the motel to check on Tara. He knocked on the door, at the same time calling to her. “Tara…it’s me.”

      She looked through the peephole in the door, then opened it to let Brad in. “Did you get everything done that you wanted to?”

      “Yes, I think so. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Is there anything you need?”

      She glanced around the small room. A little sigh escaped her throat. “I can’t think of anything specific that I need.”

      He heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes…the anxiety, the apprehension and the loneliness. Her despair tugged at his senses and pulled at his emotions. She was obviously scared and trying to put up a brave front. He was responsible for her being stuck away in a small motel room, but if he hadn’t taken action when he did she would probably be dead by now. The thought helped lessen his guilt but didn’t calm his own anxieties. He desperately wanted to do something to try to comfort her and ease her mind.

      “There’s a special on television tonight that I wanted to see, but it comes on in ten minutes and I can’t be home by then. If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay here for a while. I can watch the special and keep you company for a bit…” He offered his best confidence-inducing smile. “If that’s okay with you.” He took off his jacket and tossed it across the foot of the bed.

      Her attention flew to the holster clipped to his belt, becoming fixated on the handgun. A shiver darted up her spine and anxiety churned in the pit of her stomach, confirming what she already knew—she was in serious danger. She closed her eyes. The sound of the explosion and the vivid image of the burning car assaulted her senses. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the disturbing vision.

      “Tara? Are you all right?”

      His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes, her attention again riveted on the weapon, her thoughts telling her of the danger it represented. “Do you…uh…always carry a gun?”

      “Yes. We’re issued a .357 magnum, but I prefer this 9mm semiautomatic. I find it more comfortable to carry and to use.”

      “To use?” A knot of anxiety pulled tight in her stomach. “Do you have to use it often?”

      “Occasionally.” A twinge in his shoulder gave a sharp reminder of the last time he’d needed to use it.

      She pulled her attention away from the weapon, glancing around the room as she composed herself and tried to project a positive manner. “I didn’t mean to get off the subject. What were you saying?”

      “I was asking if you minded my staying to watch a program on television. Maybe keep you company for a little while until you’re feeling more comfortable?”

      “Uh…no, I don’t mind if you want to watch something on television. Go ahead.”

      Tara retreated to the corner of the room, curling her legs under her as she sank into the large chair. Try as she might, she simply couldn’t concentrate on his conversation. She kept hearing the explosion over and over, the horror of pieces of metal flying through the air. The churning in her stomach drove a sick feeling up her throat. She knew it was a memory that would continue to haunt her the rest of her life however long—or short—that life might be.

      She watched Brad as he sat on the end of the bed staring at the television, although he didn’t seem to really be watching the program. He appeared casual enough, as if he didn’t have any concerns, but the tight set of his jaw belied that. She could almost feel the tension pulling his muscles into knots. But in spite of that he radiated a sense of confidence that surpassed his take-charge attitude. A quick dash of irritation flitted through her. Confidence or not, his was still a take-charge attitude in which he gave orders and expected to have them obeyed without question. Although it was something quite different from the way Danny Vincent had tried to control her life.

      A little shiver darted across her skin. Things were too confusing…too many strange things had happened in the past few weeks, and her totally unexpected phone call from Danny after all this time was definitely one of them. Again the image of her bombed car popped into her mind followed by the way Brad had taken control without hesitation. He had taken charge, but it was not a domineering type of thing. He had known exactly what to do and how to properly handle the situation.

      A warm feeling replaced the shiver as she thought of his arm around her shoulder while they talked to the policeman. She had felt safe, at least for that moment. She studied his handsome features. A ripple of excitement invaded her senses, a sensation that started with a tingle deep inside and quickly spread through her body. Her life was in danger and her world had been thrown into turmoil. The last thing she should be thinking about was an attraction to a very desirable man.

      She straightened in her chair in an effort to pull herself together. She didn’t want to show the depth of her fears to this very together—and extremely handsome—man. She certainly didn’t want him thinking she was some silly little twit who fell apart at the first sign of an unpleasant situation. With everything she’d been through since agreeing to testify, she should be able to take this in stride without any problem.

      Another sigh of despair tried to work its way into the open. Testifying at a trial was not the same thing as having someone try to kill you. Her brave intentions did nothing to calm her fears. She knew she was only lying to herself.

      Brad seemed to be alert to everything going on. Every time the sound of a car engine or car door invaded the room he was on his feet. He’d pretend he needed to stretch and would make his way to the window and peek out around the edge of the drapes. But in spite of his casual outer manner, it was obvious he was far from relaxed.

      Then another memory flooded her consciousness—Brad’s body protectively covering hers when he had shoved her down behind the van in the restaurant parking lot. And then the tender kiss he had placed on her forehead. It was more than his having put his life on the line for her. A totally unexpected sensual rush had hit her like a ton of bricks. Brad Harrison was a very desirable man—handsome, confident and extremely sexy. He exuded the strong presence of someone who knew what he was doing and could be depended on in a crisis. There was something very reassuring about a man who had the ability to take control of a precarious situation.

      Then another dark thought clouded her perception. Was his take-charge manner just one small step away from the controlling efforts of Danny and the domineering manipulations of her mother?

      “I guess I’m a little too restless to stay with the television program.” Brad’s words drew her attention back to what he was doing. She watched as he stood and stretched his arms above his head, then behind his back.

      He cocked his head and raised a questioning eyebrow. “How about you? You look comfortable enough, but your expression seems more worried than at ease…although I can certainly understand why.” He glanced down at the floor for a moment as if trying to collect his thoughts. “I know it’s of little use for me to tell you not to worry, but I’ll try it anyway. Please think positive, we’ll get through this