A Profiler's Case for Seduction(28)

By the time the actual football game and the usual pregame events arrived, the students would be frenzied with school pride and spirit.

Her heart misfired as she heard the distinct sound of heavy footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace, fear hammering through her veins. Just get home safely, a voice whispered in the back of her head. Just keep moving and don’t look back.

“Dora.”

The familiar deep voice made her nearly stumble to her knees in relief. She turned to see Mark hurrying to catch up to her. “Oh, my God, Mark, you scared me to death,” she said, half-breathless.

“I did?” He stopped next to her on the sidewalk. “Sorry about that.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her gaze darting from the sidewalk behind him to the nearby manicured tall bushes.

“I intended to catch up with you at the bookstore, but by the time I got there you’d already closed up and then I saw you walking and here I am.” He said it as if it all made perfect sense.

It wasn’t fear now that kept her heart beating just a little faster than it should. It was his nearness to her, the scent of him, which had become familiar, and a thrill that he’d sought her out once again.

“Why did you want to catch up with me at the bookstore?” she asked as they began a slow walk in the direction of her house.

“Because I wanted to see you again.” He looked at her as if she should have known his answer before he actually said the words aloud. “And I forgot to tell you the other night that, because of the things you said about fathers and daughters, I called Grace and made plans to visit her as soon as we wrap up things here. We’re going for ice cream...two scoops.”

“That’s good, Mark. I’m so glad.” She was glad for a number of things. She was ridiculously pleased that he wanted to see her again and relieved that she wasn’t making this walk home alone in the dark. She was also happy that he was obviously set to make things right with the daughter he so obviously loved.

She felt safe with him at her side and yet knew she was a fool to feel the excitement, the giddy rush of his very presence next to her. Still, she remained acutely conscious of their surroundings as they continued to walk toward her place.

“Are you expecting somebody to jump out of the bushes?” he asked, obviously noticing her nervous gazes. “I can feel that you’re on edge, Dora. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she replied quickly, apparently too quickly, as he looked at her in disbelief.

“What’s going on, Dora?” he repeated.

She could see her house in the distance, her porch light a welcome beam in the darkness. “Why don’t you come in and I’ll make us a cup of coffee. We can talk a little more inside.”

Even in the darkness she could see the flash of his white teeth as he grinned. “That sounds perfect.”

She hoped by the time they got inside and she had the coffee brewing he’d forget that anything had bothered her. The last person on earth she wanted to believe that she was just some paranoid nut was Mark.

It felt odd, unlocking the door and allowing him to step into the place behind her. In the three years she’d lived in the house there had never been a man inside other than Micah.

The house was nothing fancy, just a two-story brick with a kitchen, dining room and living area downstairs and two nice-size bedrooms upstairs. It had been furnished with mostly thrift-store furniture and cast-off items she’d picked up when students were leaving college and no longer wanted their college-dorm-style decor.

The only item Dora had bought new was an overstuffed sofa in shades of yellow and red. It was vibrant and looked like sunshine and poppies. She’d fallen in love with it at first glance.

A small computer table sat against one wall, a bookshelf on the other. She’d added throw pillows and scented candles, a large yellow vase of artificial poppies to warm up the house and claim it as her own space.

There was no furniture in the dining room. The small round table in the kitchen was built for two and she’d found it left out by the Dumpster after the end of a semester.

“It’s not much, but it’s mine,” she said as she led him into the kitchen and motioned him into one of the folding chairs at the table. He took off his jacket and she was vaguely surprised to see his shoulder holster and gun. Of course he’d have a gun, she thought, he was an FBI agent. But she’d never seen it before.

“I think it’s quite charming,” he replied as he folded his length into the chair at the table. He appeared perfectly comfortable to sit and watch as she shrugged off her cardigan sweater, draped it on the back of the chair opposite his and then busied herself making half a pot of coffee.