reason to stand that close to a woman. Jack was single. So was Morgan. It shouldn’t have mattered because Morgan was a job and a burden, yet her boyish looks had unexpectedly hit him down low and deep. So it did matter.
He glared at Jack, who lifted his brows in surprise and moved out of the kitchen.
“Need any help?” asked Jack.
Ray shook his head.
“I’ll check in tomorrow. Let you know what else we get from the bank manager.”
Since Jack wasn’t allowed to use his fists with the same liberty as Ray, he doubted he’d get much. Little dweebs like that always lawyered up.
Jack called a farewell to Lisa and then to Morgan.
“You’re in good hands, Morgan. I’d trust Ray Strong with my life. You can do the same.”
She thanked Jack with a sincerity that made Ray scowl all over again. He could see them together—naked. Ray rubbed his eyes. Jack shook his hand and headed out into the night. Ray locked the door behind him and found satisfaction in the click.
The cat rubbed against his leg and meowed loudly again.
“What?” Ray asked it. “If you want food you’re at the wrong human.”
“Cookie!” Morgan ran to the feline and lifted the boneless ball of fluff. “Where did you find her? Lisa will be so happy.”
In Ray’s experience cats never needed finding. Morgan squeezed the cat, which now hung over her shoulder, its green eyes watching Ray. Morgan carried the cat to Lisa’s room and was met with squeals of delight from the interior. When Morgan came back, her smile eased away at the sight of him still in her kitchen.
“How’s your girl?” asked Ray.
“Better now that she has Cookie.” Her smile was so sweet and so compelling, Ray took a step toward her before he realized he had moved.
“Detective Bear Den said that you would work for room and board as a favor to my father.” He’d work for nothing, but staying on site would make it much easier to guard Lisa and Morgan.
Morgan poured the macaroni into a colander in the sink, sending steam billowing upward.
If Morgan Hooke knew the location of the two hundred thousand dollars, would she be eating condensed soup for dinner?
“And on behalf of your medicine society.”
He nodded and tugged at his drying shirt, wishing he could avoid this chatting.
“Tribal Thunder,” said Morgan. “I never heard of that sect.”
He really could not speak of his medicine society with a woman, even an Apache woman like Morgan. But he did say that it was a warrior sect.
“We’ve vowed to protect the sovereignty of our heritage, resources and tribe.”
“And I fall under tribe,” she said, flipping on the hot water and engaging the sprayer to give the limp pasta a shower. Deftly she dumped the noodles back into the pot, added milk, butter and the envelope of fluorescent yellow cheese-like product. Then the pot went back on the stove on a low flame.
“I added another box because—” she waved a clean wooden spoon at him “—you look hungry.”
Wow, she shouldn’t have said that. He stepped closer. Her eyes rounded. He closed in on an impulse so strong he didn’t even question it.
He wrapped her up and found that slippery cocktail dress made her glide up his chest as if she wore satin. When he angled his head to kiss her she pointed the clean end of the wooden spoon into his chest like the butt end of a nightstick.
The mac and cheese was sizzling as the milk boiled away.
“Bad idea,” she said, but then licked her wide lower lip, sending him mixed signals.
“That’s what I’m best at.”
She pulled away and he let her go.
They faced off.
“Listen, you might have some ideas about me because I have a child and no husband. And because I serve drinks. So let me set you straight. I’m not interested in casual sex.”
“Great. Because sex is one of two things I take very seriously.”
She lowered the spoon. “What’s the other?”
“Protecting you and Lisa.”
* * *
MORGAN STARED UP at her protector. He stood only an arm’s length from her with his hand still resting on her shoulder. His face was clean-shaven, revealing the hard line of his jaw and his prominent chin. It looked like the kind of jaw that could take a punch and the kind of chin that dared you to try. He had tousled thick black hair that needed a trim and a wide square forehead with heavy brows. His brown eyes now seemed to hold a hint of green and shone with mischief. He wasn’t done with her, they seemed to say. Not by a long shot. His mouth quirked, confirming her suspicion. The man was imposing as all get out, but right now that was what she needed. A man capable of taking care of things as well as her and her daughter.
Morgan understood the seriousness of her situation. It was bleeding into her consciousness like dye into fabric.
“You going to be able to do this?” she asked.
He never took his eyes off her as he nodded.
Ray Strong cocked his head, lifting a hand to trail his fingertips down the sensitive skin of her neck and on to the hollow at her throat. She shivered as sensation rocked her.
“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said.
His grin promised devilment.
Trouble.
“Mom?”
The man was a chameleon, Morgan thought.
Ray now stood at a respectable distance from Morgan, his powerful arms folded and his posture relaxed. Even his smile was different. His expression held none of the banked desire she’d witnessed. Instead she saw only a benign hint of a smile that made him seem, if not exactly safe, at least not imminently dangerous.
She cleared her throat and forced a tight smile.
“Lisa honey, dinner is ready.”
Lisa had halted on the bare floor where the carpet runner had been pausing at the place where hallway gave way to the worn floor tiles of the kitchen. The cat sat at her heels, tail tucked around its front feet. They both stared at Ray with curiosity. Lisa’s eyes were focused on Ray as if seeing a rattlesnake coiled in her path and calculating her way clear. Her dark eyes seemed to assess a new potential threat. Her girl had more sense than her mother, thought Morgan.
“Lisa, this is Mr. Strong. He will be staying in Pop-Pop’s room for a while.”
“Why?”
While Morgan debated how much to tell her, Ray stepped forward as Lisa slid a foot backward, preparing to retreat.
“Because the man who broke in here was looking for something of your grandfather’s. You have friends at school?”
Lisa nodded.
“Anyone ever have a big secret?”
Lisa nodded again.
“What happened to that secret?”
Lisa looked to her mother and then fixed her attention on Ray. “My friend told our other friend and she promised never, ever to tell, but she must have because I didn’t tell and then Bobby Farrow knew and he told all the boys.”
“Exactly.”
He