The Bachelor Project. Victoria Chancellor

the part about staying away from the meat-eaters.”

      Parker leaned forward. “Don’t make the mistake of treating any of the wild animals like house pets. Opossums have more teeth than any mammal in North America, and even a squirrel can seriously injure you by biting your finger instead of whatever you’re trying to feed it. What appears cute and cuddly can quickly become dangerous.”

      She wondered if his warning applied to off-duty police chiefs. “Don’t worry. I’ll limit my feeding to putting out seed for some nice, safe birds.”

      “You’d be better off not putting anything out at all.”

      “I like birds. I never get to feed them from my condo balcony.”

      “Then you’ll also get squirrels and the rest. They like seed, too.”

      “You’re not exactly a walking, talking advertisement for rural life, you know,” she complained halfheartedly, unable to suppress a smile.

      Parker chuckled. “No, I suppose I’m not. As a police officer, I tend to focus on prevention. If I can’t prevent, I apprehend.”

      “And answer calls from hysterical women with a raccoon problem.”

      “That,” he said, placing his empty mug on the table, “was a very rare event. I doubt I’ll need to modify my job description, unless you’re planning on calling in regularly.”

      She traced a cross over her heart. “I promise I’ll look for four-legged visitors first.”

      He looked at her speculatively. “Will you?”

      “Of course.”

      His expression grew more serious, more inquisitive, reminding Robin that he was, as a law enforcement officer, a trained interrogator. “You were pretty upset—maybe not a hundred percent from the raccoons.”

      She shrugged, not wanting to discuss the subject. She wasn’t sure why she’d brought it up. “New-house jitters. A change in life-style. I’m fine now.”

      He didn’t look convinced, but, thankfully, didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed back his chair and rose, towering over her until she was forced to stand, or get a crick in her neck.

      “I’d better let you get some sleep. Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “I’m fine. And I really enjoyed the coffee, and the conversation.”

      “I’ll have the next patrol officer drive by a few times tonight, just to make sure you’re safe.”

      “I’m sure that’s unnecessary.”

      “I’ll sleep better knowing you’re okay.”

      “I…I suppose that’s a good idea.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by angry raccoons.”

      “Or held hostage by hungry deer,” he teased.

      “No.” Her smile faded as the joking ended. She felt the tension building now just as surely as she’d smelled coffee brewing earlier.

      “Well, then, thank you for the coffee,” he said.

      He seemed to take up way too much space in the kitchen. His blue eyes, as warm and dark as the coffee he’d brewed, looked at her in a very un-policeman-like manner.

      “You’re welcome,” she answered, her voice an octave lower than when she’d stood on her front porch in her sleep shirt and robe. “Thanks for fixing it.” Darn it, she’d already thanked him for that once. Did he think she was babbling? Well, perhaps she was.

      “No problem.”

      The silence stretched on for just a moment too long. A breathless, quiet moment that made her forget about everything but the man standing before her. But then he shifted his weight, his hand automatically resting on a holster that held a large and dangerous-looking pistol, and she remembered that he was a law enforcement officer, and that she was a new resident who’d called in with an emergency.

      Perhaps he was just being friendly. Maybe she was imagining this tension between them. Or you could just be mentally exhausted and rambling, she told herself as she gripped the back of her chair.

      “Thank you for coming out, Chief Parker.”

      “You’re welcome. And the name’s Ethan.”

      “Ethan.” A strong name. A simple, basic name—one without nicknames and unusual spellings.

      He smiled at her again, then picked up his flashlight and walked toward the front door. She followed behind, a sense of déjà vu reminding her she’d walked guys to the door before. Dates…and one nice, safe fiancé. Not police chiefs she barely knew.

      “By the way,” he said, pausing as he pushed open the front door, “I did come out because you called. That was duty. I stayed because I wanted to. Sitting down and sharing a cup of coffee had nothing to do with my professional responsibilities.”

      She looked up at his well-defined features and Mel-Gibson-blue eyes. Her heart beat so fast, she wondered if he could see the blood rushing through her veins. “Thank you for telling me.”

      “I just wanted you to understand the difference. I don’t come on to women I meet in the line of duty.”

      “No hugging?” she whispered.

      “No.” His eyes focused solely on her lips. She couldn’t help herself; she licked away the dryness in a nervous gesture.

      “No kissing, either.” He leaned forward ever so slightly. The night noises sounded overly loud, drowning out her heartbeat as she lost herself in his eyes. But then he blinked, startling both himself and her. He jerked upright, the moment gone as quickly as a cricket’s chirp.

      He started to say something, just as the dispatcher’s voice came over the communication unit. “Dispatch to Parker. What’s your 40?”

      He punched a small button. “Leaving the Franklin house right now.”

      “You had a call. Someone checking up on you.” Even a couple of feet away from the communication device, Robin heard the humor in the dispatcher’s voice.

      Ethan smiled. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

      Her? He’d said he didn’t have a wife. Then who was checking up on him this late at night?

      Robin frowned, envisioning an impatient girlfriend waiting for the police chief, but apparently he didn’t pick up on her…unease. She refused to call the feeling anything else.

      He seemed in a sudden hurry to be anywhere but her front porch. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, backing through the doorway. “Keep yourself safe.”

      “I will.” She tried not to frown.

      “Good night, Robin.”

      “Good night.”

      She reached for the storm door, securing it as he strode toward the patrol car. Then she folded her arms and leaned against the door facing, her jumbled impressions of the last call colliding with images of Ethan, the man, and Chief Parker, the protector. And all of it churned by exhaustion that left her longing for a thick, soft mattress and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.

      A few seconds later, he started the engine of the patrol car, then turned on his headlights. As she slowly closed the heavy wood door, he pulled out of the driveway onto the county road, scattering a few errant leaves and some small puffs of dirt on his way back to town.

      Leaving her with more questions than answers.

      THE NEXT MORNING, Ethan headed to the Four Square Café for his lunch break. He needed a simple answer: who was Robin Cummings? Why did a born-and-bred city girl move to a small town, even temporarily? His instincts told him she was the type of person who was close to her family. Who had friends who’d comfort her during an obviously trying time. She’d said her wedding