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“I don’t want you to go.”
The pleas tugged at him, made him think about doing stupid things that didn’t fit with his life or the need to keep her protected. “You’ll be safe with him.”
Her other hand went to his lap. Smoothed up and down his thigh. “You make me feel safe.”
The touching, the sound of her voice, the pleading in those big eyes. He was ten seconds from breaking. “Don’t do this.”
She nuzzled her mouth against his neck. Blew a warm breath over his skin. He fought it until he couldn’t, then he turned his head and kissed her. Right there in another man’s house, in a place with security but no connection to Cam.
It took every ounce of his strength and self-control to pull back. When that didn’t give him enough space, he stood up. Paced around and thought about airplanes. Anything to take his mind off her face and the touch of those lips.
“Then I’m going with you.”
Cornered
HelenKay Dimon
HELENKAY DIMON, an award-winning author, spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Now her days are filled with gardening, writing, reading and spending time with her family in and around San Diego. Stop by her website, www.helenkaydimon.com, and say hello.
For all the readers who asked for more Corcoran Team books—thank you! I love these guys, too.
Contents
A crack of gunfire echoed through the towering trees. That sort of thing would have sent Julia White scrambling for her cell phone and dialing for the police back in her normal life. But not on Calapan Island, the tiny strip of land miles from Seattle and accessible only by ferry. Here people fired weapons for sport, as a warning or just because it was Tuesday.
She didn’t know the reason this time and didn’t much care. Rather than flinch or worry, she stayed kneeling in the dirt, weeding the overgrown rectangle of roots and vines that had once been a garden alive with color.
The summer sun warmed her bare arms as the breeze lifted her hair off her shoulders and kept it dancing in front of her eyes. Needing a drink of water and a barrette, she stabbed the end of the sharp shovel into the ground and stood. A break sounded good after an hour of getting nowhere on the massive yard-work project.
She made it two steps before shots rang out again, this time multiple and in bursts. At the sound of the rapid rat-a-tat-tat, she spun around, trying to judge the distance between her and the bullets. Her gaze zipped from one end of the open yard to the other. A thunder of noise she couldn’t identify filled her ears and grew closer as she scanned the part of the two acres she could see without moving away from the protective shield of the house.
A tangle of trees blocked her view to what lay beyond her father’s falling-down property, but she didn’t hesitate. Living in Seattle for the past two years had taught her one thing: don’t invite danger. That meant moving. Smart women knew when to run.
She took off for the back porch as she tapped the pockets of her cargo shorts in search of her phone. Empty. Maybe that was for the best, since what passed for police on the island didn’t exactly fill her with a sense of security. More like dread.
Her foot hit the bottom step right as the hair on the back of her neck stirred. That only made her jog faster. Anxiety rocketed through her as she reached for the door. Just as she tugged she heard it—heavy breathing, and not hers. She whipped her head around in time to see someone barreling toward