Cavanaugh Judgment by Marie Ferrarella Page B

didn’t hear the annoyance in his voice. “Good, then this shouldn’t be a difficult assignment for me.”
    He tried again. He knew she was only doing her job, but there was no point in doing it with him. “My father was a marine.”
    At least you knew your father. Sparing him another glance, she forced a smile to her lips. “So you said. And I’m sure he was an excellent one.”
    It didn’t end there. “The point of my reference,” he told her caustically, “is that he insisted on teaching me self-defense.”
    She eased her vehicle into a right turn. She had a tendency to turn sharply and she didn’t want him complaining that her driving was making him ill on top of everything else.
    “Did he also teach you how to catch bullets with your bare hands?” she asked mildly.
    “No.”
    She nodded at his reply. “Then I’m afraid you need me.”
    “Why?” he wanted to know. “Do you catch bullets with your bare hands?”
    “No, but I have a gun—” Greer began. She no longer thought of him as the man whose wife she couldn’t save. She was now beginning to regard him as a judge who was a pain in her anatomy.
    “So do I,” he cut in.
    Greer was tempted to pull over, but the sooner she got him home, the sooner they would be out of this confining space.
    She sighed. “Judge, this is going to go a whole lot easier for both of us if you stop fighting the inevitable.” Stepping on the gas, she just made it through a yellow light. “I’ve been assigned to you and I’m not leaving until either Eddie Munro is caught or the chief decides to replace me, so you might as well make the best of it.” She deliberately kept her eyes forward. “I promise I’ll try to be as unobtrusive as possible. You’ll hardly notice I’m there.”
    There was silence for a moment. Had she won? Greer slanted a look in Kincannon’s direction and instantly became aware of Kincannon’s eyes moving over her slowly, as if to take measure of every inch of her. More criticism was coming, she could feel it.
    “Oh,” the judge replied, “I sincerely doubt that.”
    The comment took her completely by surprise. As did the unexpected and sudden feeling of warmth that was spreading throughout her torso and limbs. The same kind of warmth that had zapped through her when she’d thrown herself on top of the judge to shield him earlier.
    At the time she’d attributed the reaction to adrenaline and the sudden, gut-seizing fear that she might not get Kincannon out of the line of fire in time. This time there was no one pointing a gun, no visible threat at all.
    There was just the judge, appraising her. And obviously seeing her as a woman.
    Greer cleared her throat, searching for something to fill the uncomfortable silence. “I heard you mention that your father’s living with you.”
    His living arrangements were no secret. After the accident that had claimed his wife, his father had come from Maryland to lend him moral support. Initially, he’d been in an emotional tailspin, one that, at the time, it didn’t seem possible he would ever get out of. But eventually he did. His father stayed on. A month turned into two years. Enamored with the weather, his father showed no signs of wanting to leave. And although the man was rather difficult and cantankerous at times, Blake had to admit that he enjoyed having someone to come home to.
    “He is,” the judge replied, wondering where this was going.
    From what she’d picked up, the senior Kincannon was not that keen on women in the services. She imagined that extended to having women on the police force. “Do you think he’ll be upset?”
    “What, that he didn’t get his own bodyguard?” the judge guessed at her meaning and recalled his phone call to his father. “My father would be insulted if it was even suggested.”
    She shook her head as she took another slow right turn. “No, I mean with my having to remain on the premises for a while. If he’s old school—”
    That was the polite