the road—and the exact spot where the would-be attacker had fled.
“There,” Mac said, pointing. “I didn’t touch it in case there were prints left behind.”
“A knife?” Elizabeth said, her normally husky, sexy voice turning into a sharp cry of fear. “What? He had a knife?”
Yes, and that fact had fury surging inside Mac. The cops hadn’t seemed overly concerned when they’d first appeared on the scene. He’d heard them muttering about kids and pranks. And he’d known they needed to get to the knife ASAP.
One bent and carefully inspected the knife. “A switchblade,” he said, and he glanced up at Mac. “You sure the guy dropped it? I mean, it’s really dark out here and—”
“He dropped it,” Mac said flatly. “So get it checked for prints.” When some bozo hid in a vacant library, waiting with a knife, the cops should know that meant trouble.
From the corner of his eye, Mac saw Elizabeth take a step back. Her hand was near her mouth and, if there’d been more light, he was sure he would have seen horror reflected in her warm brown eyes.
Elizabeth Snow.
He remembered the first time he’d seen the new librarian. He’d been there to study the newspaper archives, looking for any stories that might have hit when his mother first came to town, so long ago. Those records hadn’t been digitized, but there were microfiche copies in the library. It had been his first venture into old-school research.
And his first glimpse of Elizabeth.
Her hair had been loose around her shoulders, a dark curtain that framed her heart-shaped face. She’d been laughing when she turned toward him, but as soon as she glanced into his eyes, her laughter had stopped.
Don’t stop. His immediate thought. Because he’d liked the sound of her laughter.
Red had stained her high cheekbones, and her full lips had still been curved into a smile when she asked if she could help him.
In so many ways, so many.
The police lights were flashing around them, and he saw her trembling hand tucking her hair behind her ear. “He came after me with a knife?”
The uniforms shared a glance. “We don’t know exactly what his intentions were, ma’am,” one said carefully. “Maybe the guy thought he could rob you, possibly get some money from the cash register inside.”
“There is no cash inside. We charge for overdue books, that’s it. There’s not enough money in there worth stealing.” Her arms wrapped around her stomach. “And he called my name.”
Which meant, in Mac’s book, that the attack had definitely been personal. He edged closer to Elizabeth. Something was going on here, something that he was missing. When he’d asked her if she had any enemies, her voice had hitched a bit when she replied.
Lie.
So he couldn’t help but wonder: Just what sort of enemies would a sweet librarian have? And Elizabeth was sweet. She smelled like cinnamon, and he pretty much wanted to damn well gobble her up. He’d seen her reading to the kids, leading them in story-time dances. He’d seen her too much.
Hell... I’m the one turning into a stalker.
“And why were you here, Mr. McGuire?” one of the cops asked as if reading his thoughts.
“I—”
“He was turning in a book,” Elizabeth said quickly. “And I am so very glad that he was.”
Mac shrugged. “It was overdue.” A total lie. He’d just wanted to see her.
“I’ll waive that fine,” Elizabeth said, for some reason choosing to go along with his story as her fingers brushed his shoulder. Mac couldn’t help it—he tensed at her touch. It seemed as if an electric current shot right through him. There was just something about Elizabeth...
Her hand dropped.
She backed away.
Something about her, but the woman is not interested in me. He’d tried to ask her out before. A time or two. Or four. She’d shot him down every time.
He guessed that a rough and ready ex-Delta Force member wasn’t her idea of proper date material. Too bad. She should know that opposites could definitely attract.
“I called the library’s director,” Elizabeth said. “She’s coming to make sure the window is secured. She said the alarm team would be here soon, too.”
He glanced to the left. As if on cue, a blue SUV was pulling up. When the interior lights flashed on, he recognized the woman inside—Cathy Waite, the director.
“I have to talk with her,” Elizabeth said as she hurried off.
Mac didn’t follow her. Instead, he stepped closer to the cops. “When a man stalks a woman in a building like this, with a knife at the ready, that’s serious damn trouble.”
“W-we’ll run that knife—”
“He only fled when he heard me. That jerk had plans tonight. He was going to hurt her.” His hands clenched into fists. “You need to find that guy before he strikes again.” Before I get to him first.
Mac glanced over his shoulder at Elizabeth. She and Cathy were talking as a service truck pulled up.
“They can’t start working on that window yet,” one of the cops said when he spied the truck. “We’re not done with our investigation!” Then he was rushing forward.
Mac’s gaze slid to Elizabeth. She was rubbing her arms again, as if she was cold. He shrugged out of his jacket and headed toward her. When he put the jacket around her shoulders, she jumped a bit. Hell, he had to stop scaring her. Mac was used to moving silently, and sometimes he forgot how disconcerting that could be for people.
Her fingers curled around the jacket. “Thank you.” The damn thing swallowed her delicate frame. He glanced down and saw that she’d put her shoes back on. Earlier, she’d kicked them off and he’d seen her toes, painted a bright fire-engine red. The cops had returned the shoes to her.
“You should go,” Elizabeth said with a little nod. “The cops are here, Cathy’s here...we have to get things secured. You just... You’ve already gone above and beyond in your library-patron duty.”
“I don’t mind hanging around,” Mac said, trying to sound casual.
The flashing lights swirled around them. Elizabeth stepped a bit closer to him. Sweet cinnamon wrapped around him. “You don’t have to stay,” Elizabeth said softly. “But thank you for playing hero.” Then she started to take off his jacket.
He lifted his hand, stopping her. “Keep it. I’ve got others.” And he didn’t want her cold.
She flashed him a smile. “Like I said, I owe you, Mac.”
“Then maybe you can repay that debt by having a drink with me.” The words hung between them.
She bit her lip. A bad move because he found it sexy. He wanted to touch that lip, lick it. Maybe bite it. Not too hard, of course. What would his sweet librarian do then?
“I don’t think we’d be a good idea,” Elizabeth said.
Shot down for the fifth time. He was a man who could take a hint. “Why not?” He touched her cheek and saw the quick breath that she took. Saw the tremble that shook her. “I know you feel it, too.” It. That heady awareness between them. The connection that said they’d pretty much ignite together.
“I do.” She tipped back her head to stare up at him. “But I don’t think I can handle what you’d want from me.”
“I bet you could.”
“I heard the stories about you.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper. “You’re all about