Free Guardian (The Protectors Series) by Nancy Northcott Page B

folks—”
    “They’re the same.” He knew how tense her relationship with her family was. He shouldn’t have asked.
    Of course, she’d opened the door with her question about his sister. Wincing inwardly, she added, “Mom is still at Dix Hospital in Raleigh. I doubt they’ll ever release her.” Thanks to her delusions about paranormal powers. “Dad works the farm, though Lily and her husband take care of the heavy jobs.”
    “I’m sorry your mom isn’t better.” He hesitated, as though he meant to say something else, but shut his mouth firmly.
    They stared at each other, tension crackling between them. Did he remember, as she did, how painful she’d found telling him about her family? Did the memory rake his heart as it did hers? He couldn’t have faked everything, even though she’d told herself otherwise in the aftermath of the breakup. In hindsight, she realized he probably had cared, at some point. Just not enough to fight for her, fight for what they had.
    At last, he said, “We’ve done enough of this for now. I should let you get back to bed.”
    “You could probably use the sleep, too.” When he shrugged, she asked, “Stefan, why are you doing this for me?”
    “Why not?” he asked, staring hard at her. “This means a lot to you. Why wouldn’t I help you out?”
    Crap . Answering that would involve digging up ancient history. She shouldn’t have questioned him. “Never mind. I’m grateful. Let’s leave it there.”
    He said nothing for several seconds. That keen look made her feel like a germ under a microscope. Damn it.
    “It’s a reasonable question,” she insisted, “considering we didn’t exactly part as friends.”
    “Uh-huh.” He maintained the hard stare and the low, lethal tone. “Why do you think I’m helping you?”
    “I don’t know. I just…if you think you owe me—”
    “Owe you?” He ground the words out. “If anyone owes anyone, Ms. Wray…” His jaw set. After a moment, he said, “Let’s not get into a pissing match over the past.”
    “Let’s not.” He couldn’t mean she owed him, not when she’d been the wronged party. Arguing, though, would only increase the strain between them. “Let me just say thank you, and we can drop it.”
    He crossed his arms, his face still stony. “I would’ve done this for any colleague in your situation.”
    “Okay.” Mel raised her hands, palms out, in token surrender. “Maybe you would. I have no reason to doubt that.” Or to feel that nip of hurt over it, but that was her business, her private moment of lunacy.
    “Fine.” He gave her a curt nod. “I’ll be back in three hours.”
    “Okay. Thanks.” She followed him to the door.
    With his hand on the knob, he turned to her. His face had softened, and his eyes held an odd light. Was it sadness? “Who sings ‘If Ever I Would Leave You’ in Camelot ?”
    “Lancelot.” She answered without thinking.
    “Right. See you in a little while.” Stefan’s glance flicked over her face. “Get some rest.”
    As the door closed behind him, Mel thought about the Camelot tickets he’d bought for her twenty-first birthday. They’d enjoyed each other so much that day, watching the show, splurging on a dinner out. That night, after they’d made love, he’d quietly sung that song to her and seduced her again.
    For the first time in years, the soft, bitter shroud of grief for what she’d thought they had brushed over her heart. Biting her lip, Mel forced the memories back. He’d evoked them on purpose, she was sure. But why? To punish her? To yank her chain? The odd, almost sad light in his eyes argued otherwise.
    Calling up the past would only make things more difficult between them, and being around him was tough enough already. She had to keep everything focused on the case.
    *  *  *
    Damned prickly woman. Why couldn’t she just accept a favor, not examine it nineteen different ways?
    Scowling, Stefan let himself into his motel room.
    Of course, she’d