Unstoppable. Suzanne Brockmann

       And yet when he closed his eyes, he could still see Mariah, hurt enough to leave the party without him, but kind enough to write a note telling him she was leaving. He could see her, head held high as she went down the stairs to the beach.

       He’d left the party soon after and followed her to make sure she’d arrived home safely. He’d sat in his car on the street with his lights off and watched her move about her house through the slats in her blinds. He watched her disappear down the hall to her bedroom, unzipping the back of that incredible dress as she went.

       She’d returned only a moment later, dressed in the same kind of oversize T-shirt that she’d worn to bed the night before. When she’d curled up on the couch with a book he’d driven away—afraid if he stayed much longer he’d act on the urge to get out of the car, knock on her door and apologize until she let him in.

       And once she let him in, he knew damn well he’d end up in her bed. He’d apologize and she’d eventually accept. He’d touch her, and it wouldn’t be long until they kissed. And once he kissed her, there’d be no turning back. The attraction between them was too hot, too volatile.

       And then she would really be hurt—after he slept with her, then married her best friend.

       So he’d make damn sure that he wouldn’t sleep with her.

       He’d show up in front of the library tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. He’d see her again—God, he wanted to see her again—but in public, where there’d be no danger of intimacies getting out of hand. Somehow he’d make her understand that their relationship was to be nothing more than a friendship, all the while making Serena believe otherwise. Then Serena could “steal” him from Mariah without Mariah getting hurt.

       Miller stood up. “I’m going to do it. Figure I’ll be out of the picture all day tomorrow.”

       Daniel rose to his feet, too. “I’ll stay near Serena.” Miller turned to leave, but Daniel’s quiet voice stopped him. “You know, John, we could do this another way.”

       His cover was all set up. He was here, he was in place. And all of his reasons for not going ahead would be purely personal. He’d never pulled out of a case for personal reasons before and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

       “I haven’t come up with a better way—or a quicker way—to catch this killer,” he flatly told his partner. “Let’s do this right and lock her up before she hurts anyone else.”