Free Cold Midnight by Joyce Lamb Page B

to do the same for him, that low, sexy voice laughing at his groans and pleas for her to slow down, to let him catch up. She’d been so responsive then, so open and trusting.
    And it hadn’t just been when they made love. She’d been like that all the time, whether they were working out, talking over lunch or traveling to or from the next tournament. Open, so open. And now she was closed. Shut down to everyone, it seemed.
    “Hello?”
    Snapping his focus to her, he cleared his throat. “I wanted to ask if you’d stopped by the lab to provide a blood sample.”
    “Not yet. Is tomorrow okay?”
    “How about now? I can get Sylvia to take care of it right here.” Before she could shoot him down, he added, “It’s even more important now that there are two bats.”
    She arched her eyebrows. “Could they both be fakes?”
    “It’s possible.”
    “But why would anyone do that?”
    “There’s got to be a reason they’re trying to scare you. Maybe they’re trying to distract you or chase you away.”
    “Because I’m building the tennis center?”
    “Maybe.”
    “But why? I’m not stepping on anyone’s toes.”
    “The owners of this health club might disagree. Your place will be a direct competitor. Brand new and a lot more affordable. And there are the usual suspects: someone who has similar plans but was slower on the trigger with their proposal or whose same idea was shot down by the zoning board. Even environmentalists.”
    “I already had an environmental study done. The site was cleared.”
    “Doesn’t mean someone out there doesn’t agree.”
    “So what you’re saying is that it’s possible that the bat found at the construction site might not be the one from ten years ago.”
    “Once we ID the blood on the T-shirt found with it, we’ll know more. So, may I go get Sylvia?”
    She nodded, and for just a flash of a moment, she looked tired again. Exhausted, really.
    “Are you sleeping?” he asked before he could rethink the wisdom of asking.
    Her shoulders tightened, the lines in her forehead smoothing out as completely as if she’d run a steaming iron over them. “I’m fine.”
    “That’s not what I asked.”
    Blue gray eyes met his, colder now, challenging. “I’m fine.”
    Annoyed at how quickly she swatted down his concern, he cocked his head and let anger take the wheel. “Oh, you’re more than fine, aren’t you? You’ve got that game face honed to perfection.”
    He hadn’t thought she could get any stiffer, but somehow she managed as she stood up and eased by him toward the door, careful to avoid all contact. “While you’re getting Sylvia, I’m going to—”
    “Run away?”
    She faltered, her hand on the doorknob. For a moment, her shoulders curved inward, as though he’d landed a blow square in the chest. Then, without a word or even a glare tossed over her shoulder, she walked out and gently closed the door behind her.
    Biting back a groan of frustration, Chase shoved away from the desk.
    God, she could make him act like such an ass.

14
    “DAMN!” KYLIE TOSSED THE REMAINS OF A CHARRED bagel into the sink and sucked the tip of the finger she’d burned on the toaster. Time for pizza instead. Snagging the cordless off the wall, she dialed the memorized number for Pizza Outlet and was waiting for an answer when her doorbell sounded. She shouldered the handset to check the peep-hole.
    What the hell?
    Her pulse speeding, she clicked off the call and pulled the door open.
    Chase Manning stood on her porch, hands in his back pockets, his dark hair mussed by the wind. He wore the casual attire of a man who’d taken a long walk on the beach—khaki shorts, navy T-shirt and sand-caked Nikes that had been abused for years. He smelled fresh and salty, like gulf air and beach. A light beard shadowed his jaw, and she remembered that after a particularly passionate kiss so long ago, he’d trailed a fingertip over her stinging cheek and joked that he’d have to start shaving