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cat to guard the fish. You had your chance. You blew it.”
    “That’s it? You’re a one chance kind of guy?”
    “Yup. You nix it, you’re done.”
    “Shortsighted.”
    “I would say protective, but that’s semantics. In any case, you used your shot.”
    When she grimaced, he backtracked, a hand to her shoulder, flicking a look to her leg. “Hey, listen, not the best choice of words. Sorry.”
    “Don’t worry about it.” She shrugged away from his hand and moved through the exterior door, her gait awkward.
    “Cress.” He reached a hand out again, chin down, trying to meet her gaze. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
    She stared ahead, not moving, unblinking, then blew him off. “You’ve got a lot more than that to be sorry for, Counselor.”
    “Make me a list?”
    “Not enough paper.”
    “Use e-mail.”
    “Don’t care enough to bother.”
    “You’re wrong there.” He changed tacks as they approached the intersection. “You hungry? Lunch? I’m buying.”
    She swung to face him. “I would sooner—”
    He put two fingers against her lips and leaned down, trying not to notice how soft her mouth felt against the pads of his skin. “Whatever snide analogy you were about to make is probably something you’d regret later. Consider this,” he dropped his gaze to her mouth and tried to ignore the tiny points of ivory-gold circling jet black pupils, how they brightened when she flashed in anger. He’d never noticed that before, and it wasn’t for lack of exposure. “Me, saving you from yourself.”
    “Remove your hand or you’ll be the one who needs saving.”
    “Maybe I like my hand there.” This time he caught her gaze and held it, letting his fingers linger, the feel of her mouth a welcome respite. “Maybe I like the feel.”
    She pulled back. “You’ll be feeling something else if you don’t back off.” She clicked her remote and the door locks disengaged.
    He swept her, the car, and the key fob a disbelieving look. “You locked your car in Watkins Ridge? Talk about overkill.”
    “There’s scum everywhere, Counselor.”
    “Pessimistic POV.”
    “Realistic. Check the company I’m in.” She bent to retrieve the plastic box of cookies, and he couldn’t resist pure male appreciation of her God-given attributes, but masked the emotion. This was Cress, a woman trained in deadly force, probably packing heat right now. Was a great body worth possible death?
    No. Usually.
    Something about Cress hiked his irritation receptors beyond the norm. Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d head back to Minnesota. Stop annoying him. She straightened, caught the direction of his gaze and thrust the Rubbermaid container into his solar plexus with more power than a five-foot-five girl should have. “You check me out, I’ll clean the sidewalk with you.”
    “Possession of stolen goods, now threats of bodily harm.” He let the up-note of his voice underscore his opinion of her behavior. “Mounting evidence.” He inclined his head toward the Italian deli a few doors down. “Come on, it’s lunchtime. Let me feed you. I think they’ve even got a special on raw meat today.” He punctuated his reference with a cat-like yowl.
    “Kiss off.” The words didn’t completely negate the glimmer of respect he saw as she rounded the car.
    He acknowledged that by lifting the Rubbermaid. “Thanks for the cookies.”
    “Enjoy them. I helped make ‘em.”
    “Domestic.”
    “One of my many talents.” She smiled across the roof of the low-slung coupe, a feline grin. Her right hand played with the chain suspended around her neck. Nothing dainty for Cress Dietrich. Uh, uh. This chain was thick-linked and pewter-finished, tough and unpolished, like the wearer. She leaned his way, fingers braced along the top edge of the car. “Did you know Gran keeps her rat poison in the pantry?”
    He let a grin steal over his face as he hoisted the cookies. “Above the flour?”
    “The sugar, actually. But proximity’s