Getting Rid of Bradley. Jennifer Crusie

a piece of metal broken off inside this basement-door lock. Somebody’s been trying to get in here.”

      Lucy swallowed. “Bradley?”

      “Well, that would be my best guess. He may just be trying to get his golf clubs back. But then again…” He shrugged. “Somebody shot at you on the street today.”

      “At you,” Lucy said, but her voice held a lot less conviction.

      “Just stay with your sister for a while. She’s got room, right?”

      “Oh, she’s got room. But I’m not going. She can’t take the dogs, and I’m not leaving them.” Lucy stuck her chin in the air. “Besides, I don’t believe this.”

      Zack lost his temper and stomped up the back porch steps. He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face the door as he pointed at the lock. “See those scratches?” His face was so close to hers they were almost nose-to-nose. “Those were made by a pointed metal tool. Somebody was trying to break in.”

      Lucy blinked at his closeness. “Well, they didn’t get in, did they? So I must be pretty safe.”

      “Only because they’re trying to be subtle for some reason. Sooner or later, they’re just going to smash a window and climb in. Lord knows why they haven’t already. I advise you to move to your sister’s.”

      “No,” Lucy said.

      Zack let go of her arm and closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he looked down at her with all the patience he could muster.

      She looked up at him, wide-eyed and trusting.

      Oh, hell. If somebody did hit her, it’d be his fault for not taking care of her.

      He forced himself to speak calmly. “Look, just do me one favor. Stay inside tonight. I’ll call you when I find out more tomorrow, okay? And I’ll have the patrol car keep an eye on you. Just until we can get a handle on your Bradley and see what he’s up to.”

      Lucy opened her mouth to speak, and he overrode her again. “Just for tonight and tomorrow. That’s not much to ask. Please.”

      “I’d have to leave, anyway,” Lucy said. “I’m a teacher. Even if I wasn’t going in to school tomorrow, I’d have to take in lesson plans.”

      Zack looked again into Lucy’s huge brown eyes and thought again about how much she needed a keeper.

      Not him, of course.

      Still…

      “I will take them in. Now, about this sick-leave thing. How long have you been teaching?”

      “Twelve years.”

      “And how many sick days have you taken?”

      “None.”

      “That’s what I figured. So how many do you have saved up?”

      “One hundred and thirty-eight,” Lucy said.

      “So if you use a couple, you could still develop a major disease and have everything covered, right?”

      “Right,” Lucy said, “but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m not sick.”

      Why was it he finally found an honest citizen only when it worked against him? “Look. Think of this guy who’s trying to kill you as a life-threatening illness. I do.”

      “I really think—”

      “I told you, don’t think. Just do what I tell you. If it will help, I’ll shave and put on a suit and come back and tell you to stay inside. I’ll do whatever it takes. Because I really do think you’re in danger.” He gestured to the basement door. “These are all good locks. Take advantage of them. Stay inside and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

      “Well…” Her pointed face was so confused under all that dead black hair that suddenly Zack’s annoyance faded and he felt protective again. She seemed so helpless, so soft and round and absolutely clueless about reality.

      “Please,” he said. “Just for tonight.”

      “All right.” Lucy swallowed at his earnestness. “But I still think you’re wrong. Anyway, if you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll print out the lesson plans. This is very nice of you. Thank you, Detective Warren.”