Free The Cinderella Mission by Catherine Mann

Why?”
    “Someone tailed us through town on our way here.”
    Her napkin crumpled in her fist. “You’re sure?”
    He didn’t even bother to answer.
    “Of course you’re sure. Sorry.” She folded her napkin in half, smoothing the wrinkles before placing it precisely on her lap. “Why didn’t you tell me then?”
    “No need to worry you. Nothing you could have done about it anyway and I figured I could track it down later.”
    “Worry me?” Her spine straightened until she grew at least two inches in height and burgeoning anger. “You didn’t want to worry me? I’m your partner, not some little woman to cosset.”
    Whatever she wanted to think. “Uh-huh.”
    “I mean it, Ethan. We’re supposed to be working together, sharing responsibility and risk.”
    “Okay, partner.” Lying didn’t bother him in the least if it kept her safe. “Now eat so you can hold up your end of this operation.”
    Kelly’s eyes stayed on him for five measured seconds before she grabbed a roll stuffed with thinly sliced beef and nipped off a corner.
    Wonder spread over her face with each bite until finally she paused to say, “Ohmigosh, this is incredible. Now I’m not so surprised you don’t keep anything in your fridge with Brittany bringing up this kind of food every night.”
    How did she know the girl’s name? He glanced at the screen. Kelly had watched him and listened, Brittany’s juvenile crush bothering her.
    Here was his easy out. He’d pick on her about being jealous of Brittany. Or he’d let her assume the worst about him and a co-ed who didn’t even remotely entice him.
    Damn, he felt old today.
    And Kelly looked so young and vulnerable at the moment that he couldn’t do it. He would likely hurt her enough before this case ended. He couldn’t bring himself to heap on more when he had a choice otherwise. “Her grandmother cooks. The kid just helps sometimes for extra money.”
    “Okay.” Kelly looked away too fast, dipping the roll into a bowl of broth and staring down into the juice so long her bread turned to mush. She shouldn’t care about his personal life. And he shouldn’t care that she cared.
    The last thing he wanted was to care about anyone again.
    Damn. Ethan rubbed the kink in his neck that had nothingto do with being slammed onto a mat and everything to do with the woman who’d put him there.
    Kelly’s eyes zeroed in on his hand working out the kink. “So during that drunk-fest bust—is that when you got the scar on your neck?”
    She tore off another bite of her soggy sandwich.
    He scratched the thin line where his beard didn’t grow anymore. “Bad shaving accident.”
    With a drunken gunrunner determined to shave fifty years off his life.
    Ethan had bolted awake to find a knife at his throat, the wild-eyed gunrunner certain his wealthy houseguest had betrayed him. It had only been six months after Celia’s death, and Ethan hadn’t cared much about the risk in daring the man to finish it. Ethan had lived. The gunrunner had ended up dead since Ethan truly could shoot straight half drunk and nearly asleep.
    He’d considered it a fifty-fifty victory. Back then, living had hurt a hell of a lot more than the nick to his neck he’d taken fighting off his attacker.
    Kelly’s gaze glided down the long healed scar with such perception Ethan feared she might detect deeper scars still raw.
    No question, he wanted Kelly. And if hormones had been the only factor, they’d both be in his bedroom right now. But he respected her. Even more important, he liked her, which presented a potential tangle he wanted no part of.
    He’d clawed out of that pit once and knew he’d survived only half the man he’d been before. Even if he wanted to risk a relationship that could send him there again—which he sure as hell didn’t—he wouldn’t shortchange any woman by offering what little he had left. He would grit his teeth through the next two weeks of playing the attentive boyfriend and ignore his