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would cheer him later. She’d rushed out of her office, ready to chew his ass for entertaining and feeding friends while on the clock, and now he was her hero. She moved around her desk on legs that were now shaky and collapsed in her chair. When she looked up, Micah Jones stood before her desk, filling her small office with his presence. She stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to learn about the man inside the body. His eyes were a dark hazel, a thick, rich green that she had first thought were brown. They were clear, focused, and staring straight at her. She sensed intelligence, a man incredibly determined who took what he did very seriously.
    As she stared, she swore his eyes clouded over. She got the oddest sensation that he had just intentionally closed himself off, shut down completely other than what he was doing right there and now. Maggie couldn’t help thinking he was a man with many secrets. Remembering the puckered scars she’d seen on his arms, she wondered if those secrets were dark and terrible. Maggie suddenly felt trapped, cornered by a very seductive, yet dangerous man.
    She patted the receipts scattered around her logbook for her pencil. Her computer was still open to QuickBooks and she tapped her keyboard, minimizing the screen. Regardless of why this bounty hunter stood in her office, the books for the club were none of his business.
    “What’s your name?” he asked, causing her to look up again into those shut-down, dark eyes.
    For some reason, it was a relief knowing he didn’t already know who she was. “Maggie,” she offered, not seeing any reason to keep anything from him that was as simple as her name. “Maggie O’Malley.” She gave up looking for the pencil she’d had in her hand before she’d gotten up from her desk and pressed her hands in her lap.
    “Nice Irish name.” His lashes were long and she couldn’t be positive, but Maggie thought he was focusing on her breasts and not her face.
    “I’ll let my Italian mother know you said so.”
    Micah grinned but had already looked away from her and was taking in the items around her office. She watched his focus shift as he studied the scented candles on the small shelves next to her desk. In between them was a small figurine of an angel, with her wings spread wide and her arms extended. He looked at the top of her filing cabinet at the Mother Mary with baby Jesus that her mother and father had given her years ago.
    “Why are you here, Mr. Jones?” she demanded when he squinted at the picture on her wall of her and her brother and sisters, taken the previous year at their Easter family gathering.
    “It’s Micah.” He took a step toward the picture, studying it a moment longer before returning his attention to her. There was a picture of her parents facing her on her desk. Next to it was a smaller snapshot she’d framed of her two nieces. He glanced at the frames but wouldn’t be able to see the pictures from where he stood. “And as I said, the police are on their way.”
    “Right now?” she asked.
    “Yes. Right now.”
    “Why?”
    Micah gave her an appraising look. “You’re either very good or very stupid.” He cocked an eyebrow while again letting his focus drop below her face. “Are you going to tell me which, or do I make my own conclusions?”
    “I’m not stupid at all,” she said defensively, hating that amused look on his face when he returned his attention to her face. “And since you won’t find out on your own, I’ll let you know now. I am very good.”
    “Is that so?” For a moment the clouds lifted from his eyes. In that brief second that he dropped his guard, Maggie saw raw, unadulterated lust.
    Her heart skipped a beat. Instead of that guarded wall returning, he narrowed his gaze, making it harder to see into his eyes. He didn’t frown but something shifted, bringing her pause. Micah came across as being a rock, impermeable, yet there was a weakness there and she’d just found it. Her