Free Night Shift by Nora Roberts

you.”
    “I’ve already told you, there’s no one.”
    “No one now.”
    “No one now, no one before, no one for years.”
    Having experienced that first wave of her passion, he found that more than difficult to believe. Still, he nodded. “So it didn’t mean as much to you. Maybe that’s the problem.”
    “For God’s sake, Fletcher, I don’t even date. I don’t have the time or the inclination.”
    “We’ll talk about your inclinations later.”
    Weary, she turned away to stare blindly through the glass. “Damn it, Boyd, get out of my life.”
    “It’s your life we’re talking about.” There was an edge to his voice that had her holding back the snide comment she wanted to make. “If there’s been no one in Denver, we’ll start working our way back. But I want you to think, and think hard. Who’s shown an interest in you? Someone who calls the station more than normal. Who asks to meet you, asks personal questions. Someone who’s approached you, asked you out, made a play.”
    She gave a short, humorless laugh. “You have.”
    “Remind me to run a make on myself.” His voice was deceptively mild, but she caught the underlying annoyance and frustration in it. “Who else, Cilla?”
    “There’s no one, no one who’s pushed.” Wishing for a moment’s, just a moment’s, peace of mind, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I get calls. That’s the idea. I get some that ask me for a date, some that even send presents. You know, candy-and-flower types. Nothing very sinister about a bunch of roses.”
    “There’s a lot sinister about death threats.”
    She wanted to speak calmly, practically, but she couldn’t keep the nastiness out of her voice. “I can’t remember everyone who’s called and flirted with me on the air. Guys I turn down stay turned down.”
    He could only shake his head. It was a wonder to him that such a sharp woman could be so naive in certain situations. “All right, we’ll shoot for a different angle. You work with men—almost all men—at the station.”
    “We’re professionals,” she snapped, and began biting her nails. “Mark’s happily married. Bob’s happily married. Jim’s a friend—a good one.”
    “You forgot Nick.”
    “Nick Peters? What about him?”
    “He’s crazy about you.”
    “What?” She was surprised enough to turn around. “That’s ridiculous. He’s a kid.”
    After a long study, he let out a sigh. “You really haven’t noticed, have you?”
    “There’s nothing to notice.” More disturbed than she wanted to admit, she turned away again. “Look, Slick, this is getting us nowhere, and I’m …” Her words trailed off, and her hand crept slowly toward her throat.
    “And you’re what?”
    “There’s a man across the street. He’s watching the house.”
    “Get away from the window.”
    “What?”
    Boyd was already up and jerking her aside. “Stay away from the windows and keep the door locked. Don’t open it again until I get back.”
    She nodded and followed him to the door. Her lips pressed together as she watched him take out his weapon. That single gesture snapped her back to reality. It had been a smooth movement, not so much practiced as instinctive. Ten years on the force, she remembered. He’d drawn and fired before.
    She wouldn’t tell him to be careful. Those were useless words.
    “I’m going to take a look. Lock the door behind me.” Gone was the laid-back man who had taunted her into an embrace. One look at his face and she could see that he was all cop. Their eyes changed, she thought. The emotion drained out of them. There was no room for emotion when you held a gun. “If I’m not back in ten minutes, call 911 for backup. Understood?”
    “Yes.” She gave in to the need to touch his arm. “Yes,” she repeated.
    After he slipped out, she shoved the bolt into place and waited.
    He hadn’t buttoned his coat, and the deep wind of the early hours whipped through his shirt. His weapon,