For the Baby's Sake. Beverly Long

threat,” she said. “Actually, more than a threat, I guess. The bomb squad removed it just a few minutes ago.”

      “Where was it?”

      “In the middle of my boss’s desk. In a brown sack.” The tears that she’d dreaded sprang to her eyes.

      “Hey.” Detective Montgomery reached out and touched her arm. “Are you okay?”

      He sounded so concerned. That almost made the dam break. “I’m fine, really. Everyone’s just been great.”

      Detective Montgomery frowned at her, but he didn’t let go. The most delicious heat spread up her arm.

      “Come over here.” He guided her toward the curb.

      “Okay.” Whatever he wanted. As long as she didn’t have to think. Because then she’d think about it, the bomb and the look on Jamison’s face. She’d remember the pure panic she’d felt as they’d run from the building.

      He pulled his hand away, and Liz felt the immediate loss of heat all the way to her stomach, which was odd since his hand had been nowhere near her stomach. He unbuttoned his suit coat, took it off and folded it. He placed it on the cement curb. “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested, pointing at his coat.

      “I can sit on cement,” she protested.

      “Not and keep those…short pants clean,” he said. His face turned red. “I know there’s a word for them, but I can’t think of it right now.”

      He was smokin’ hot when he was serious and damn cute when he was embarrassed. It was a heck of a combination. “They’re called capri pants.”

      He smiled. “It might have come to me.”

      Oh, boy. She sat down. She knew she needed to before she swooned. “I’m sure it would have, Detective Montgomery.”

      “Sawyer,” Detective Montgomery said. “Just Sawyer is fine.”

      Liz nodded. The man was just being polite. After all, in a span of less than forty-eight hours, their paths had crossed three times. They weren’t strangers any longer. She was sitting on his coat. “Liz is fine, too,” she mumbled.

      “Liz,” he repeated.

      She liked the way the z rolled off his tongue. She liked the way all the consonants and the vowels, too, for that matter, rolled off his tongue. It was a molten chocolate center bubbling out of a freshly baked cake. Smooth. Enticing.

      Maybe he could read her the dictionary for the next week.

      “I need to ask you some questions,” he said.

      She wasn’t going to get a week. “Sure.” Why the heck not? Together they sat on the faded gray cement, hips close, thighs almost touching. Liz wanted to lean her head against his broad shoulder but knew that would startle the hell out of him.

      She settled for closing her eyes. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d crawled out of bed and caught the fiveo’clock bus.

      “Sawyer?”

      Liz opened her eyes. The man who had been with Sawyer when he’d arrived now stood in front of the two of them. He was an inch taller and probably ten pounds heavier than Sawyer. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

      Was the sky raining gorgeous men?

      “What did you find out?” Sawyer spoke to the man.

      “Bomb, all right. Big enough that it would have done some damage. Quick to shut down. Looks like they wanted to make it easy for us.”

      Sawyer didn’t say anything.

      “Who are you?” Liz asked.

      The man’s face lit up with a broad smile showing perfect teeth. “I’m Detective Robert Hanson. My partner has no manners. Otherwise, he’d have introduced us.”

      “I’m Liz Mayfield.”

      “I guessed that. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I—”

      “What else?” Sawyer interrupted his partner.

      Detective Hanson shrugged. “We’ll get the lab reports back this afternoon. Don’t expect much. Guys thought it looked like a professional job.”

      “Professional?” Sawyer shook his head. “Half the kids in high school know how to build a bomb.”

      “True.” Detective Hanson stared at Sawyer. “Did you get her statement?”

      “Not yet,” Sawyer said, pulling a notebook and pen from his pocket.

      Detective Hanson frowned at both of them. Then he turned toward Liz. “Who got in first this morning?”

      “I did,” she said. “I got here about five-thirty.”

      Sawyer looked up from his notebook. “Short night?”

      Liz shrugged, not feeling the need to explain.

      “Door locked when you got here, Ms. Mayfield?” Detective Hanson asked.

      “Yes. After I came in, I locked it again and reset the alarm.”

      “You sure?”

      “I’m usually the first person in. I know the routine.”

      “Did you see anything unusual once you got inside?”

      “No. I went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.”

      “Then what?”

      “I heard the front door, and then I thought I heard Jamison’s door open. It appears I was right.”

      “You didn’t see anybody?” Detective Hanson continued.

      “No. When I left the kitchen, I looked around.”

      “Then what—”

      “You looked around?” Sawyer interrupted his partner.

      “Yes.”

      “You should have called the police.”

      She frowned at him. His tone had an edge to it. “I can’t call the police every time I hear a door.”

      “You got a threat mailed to your office, and then shots were fired through your window,” Sawyer said. “Maybe you should have given that some thought before you decided to investigate.”

      “Maybe we should keep going.” Detective Hanson spoke to Sawyer. “You’re taking notes, right?”

      Sawyer didn’t respond.

      “After I looked around—” she emphasized the words “—I went down to my office and started working. After Jamison arrived, we came upstairs for coffee.”

      “What time was that?”

      “Almost eight. Jamison’s cell phone rang and then…we called 911. That’s about it.”

      “It sounds like you stayed pretty calm. That takes a lot of guts.” Detective Hanson smiled at her again.

      She smiled back this time. “Thank you.”

      Sawyer grabbed Robert’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go. I want to talk to the boss.”

      Liz stood—so quickly that her head started to spin. She picked up Sawyer’s suit coat, shook it and thrust it out to him. “Don’t forget this,” she said.

      He reached for it, and their fingers brushed. The fine hairs on her arm reacted with a mind of their own. What the heck was going on? She’d never ever had this kind of physical reaction to a man. Especially not one who acted as if he might think she was an idiot.

      Sawyer jerked his own arm back. “I’ll…uh…talk to you later,” he said. Great. She had him tripping over his own tongue.

      Sawyer