setting her teeth on edge.
With a sigh, Natalie rose from her desk and crossed to the front door.
She paused only long enough to get her service revolver.
In her experience, it was never a given who was on the other side of the door, and she had to admit that her father had looked spooked enough about this curse business to at least make her take a small measure of precaution. And even if she didn’t believe in curses, as a police detective she knew that she was a living, breathing target for some wacko looking to even some imaginary score.
“Who is it?” she called out as she approached the door.
“Delivery boy.”
Was that—?
No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Matt. He didn’t know where she lived. She’d sold the condo where they’d been together, bought this place and took strict care to remain unlisted and off everyone’s radar. This was just her imagination, working overtime.
Reaching the door, she said, “I didn’t order anything.”
“Look, lady, all I know is that your name’s on this bill.”
Definitely Matt. She’d know his voice anywhere. But what was he doing here?
Still holding her weapon, its safety off, Natalie opened the door.
The gun was the first thing Matt noticed. “You can put that away,” he told her. Opening his jacket with one hand, he held the side out for her inspection. “I’m unarmed.”
After a long pause, she finally put up her weapon. But she still held the door ajar and made no move to get out of the way. “What are you doing here, Matt?” she wanted to know.
“Bringing you the dinner you abandoned earlier.” He held up the pristine white bag. The Janus’s logo was on the side. “Knowing you, I figured you didn’t take the time to stop and eat.”
Her eyes narrowed. I’m not the person I used to be. The one whose heart you stomped on. “You don’t know me,” she informed him tersely.
He looked as if he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Did you stop to eat?”
She realized she could lie and be done with it, sending him on his way. Why she didn’t was beyond her. “No, I didn’t.”
His mouth curved. “I rest my case. And I’d like to rest this—” he indicated the large bag he was holding “—because it’s getting hot.”
She frowned, then stepped back, opening the door wider. “I can’t help feeling like I’ve just opened my door to the Trojan horse.”
Walking in, Matt grinned at her. Her stomach tightened instantly. “Don’t worry, there’re no tiny men wearing armor in the bag.”
It wasn’t tiny men in armor she was worried about. It was the very large, very real one who was walking into her house that concerned her.
Chapter 10
Natalie pointed Matt toward her kitchen.
He crossed to it quickly, setting the bag down on the table. Then he went to the sink and ran cold water over his hands to take the sting out.
“So how did the family meeting go?” he asked in a conversational tone. When she didn’t answer, he looked at her over his shoulder. Natalie returned her weapon to its holster, putting the safety back on. “I figured you might want to vent a little.”
She handed Matt a dish towel to dry his hands. “Why are you being so nice?” she inquired.
Taking the towel, he dried his hands, then left the towel on the counter. “Why do you always have to question everything? Just accept what’s happening.”
Natalie folded the towel and put it back in its place. “I did that once and had my heart ripped out of my chest. I’m a little more cautious these days.”
His eyes were drawn to her hands. “You’re not married.” It was a rhetorical statement. He already knew that.
Her first instinct was to hide her hands behind her back, but she didn’t. Instead, she took out a handful of napkins from a supply she kept in the pantry.
“No.”
“Were you?” he pressed, watching her move about the kitchen. “Ever?”
She shot him an impatient look. “Did you bring dinner or a questionnaire?” And then she sighed as she took out two tall glasses from the cupboard. “No,” she answered stiffly. “I’ve never been married. I decided that the male species was just too unstable to build a relationship with or to trust.”
He had the good grace to wince. “Ouch.”
Moving Matt aside, she opened the bag he had brought and saw that there were two large covered containers inside it instead of just one. Natalie raised her eyes to his face.
“There’re two portions here.”
His expression was the soul of innocence. “I didn’t eat, either.”
Removing first one container, then the other, she placed them both on the table.
“And they’re still warm.”
He nodded interceptively. “They do some pretty magical things in that Rainbow kitchen.”
“The waitress was bringing these out eight hours ago—when I left,” she reminded him. Natalie opened the containers one at a time, and a small cloud of steam emerged from each.
He spread his hands wide, adding a little shrug at the end. “Like I said, magical.”
Yeah, right. “You ordered fresh portions, didn’t you?”
Why was he going through all this trouble for someone he’d walked out on? Someone he made no effort to contact in the last eight years? Why was he messing with her like this?
Matt held his hands up in front of her, his wrists touching as if he expected to be led off in handcuffs. “I always loved that steel-trap mind of yours. Take me away, Officer Rothchild.”
She had a very real urge to double up her fist and punch him in the arm.
“That’s Detective Rothchild,” she corrected, then shook her head and blew out a loud sigh, hoping that it would sufficiently distract him from seeing the involuntary smile on her lips. But Natalie could see by his grin that he hadn’t missed it. “Idiot,” she pronounced.
There was no arguing with that. “In more ways than one,” he assured her.
This time, her sigh was weary. “Why are you talking in riddles?”
The serious lapse was gone. “I thought women liked men of mystery.”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to suck her into an exchange of banter. She wanted some kind of answers.
“We were way past the ‘liking’ stage once, Schaffer.” Taking out two forks and steak knives, she deposited them on the table, then took down two dinner plates to join them. “You were the one who left, not me.”
He watched her move around, taking in every fluid motion. A deep-seated longing took root. “We can still be friends.”
“No,” she replied emphatically, “we can’t. I’m not one of those broad-minded women who thinks that turning her exes into ‘pals’ is the adult thing to do.”
He looked confused. “Then why did you ask me to help you?”
Natalie deposited the contents of one container onto a plate, then followed suit with the other. She flung the empty containers into the lined garbage pail beneath her sink before answering.
“Because, whether I liked it or not, I needed your help. You got me the tapes—thank you,” she tagged