Standing in the Shadows by Shannon McKenna Page A

followed her slowly. "Come on, Erin," he cajoled. "I'll give you a ride home. You're safe with me. Get in."
    She glanced down at her watch. The next bus wouldn't pass for twenty minutes. "It makes me nervous to be followed around," she snapped.
    "That's tough. It makes me nervous to see you alone on the street at night," he replied. "Get in."
    She got in. The window whirred shut, the locks snapped down, and she was alone in a car with Connor McCloud. The fierce barbarian warrior who had played a starring role in her sexual fantasies for years.
    "You need a full-time bodyguard until Novak's back in custody," he said sharply. "You can't wander around by yourself. It's not safe."
    "A bodyguard?" She snorted in derision. "On my budget? I can barely afford to feed my cat."
    "I'm not asking for pay."
    "
You? "
She stiffened. "Good God, Connor, you can't—"
    "Put your seatbelt on, Erin."
    Her stiff, chilly fingers struggled with the belt. "I don't want a bodyguard," she said nervously. "I particularly don't want you for a bodyguard. Nothing personal, but I don't want to have anything to do with the Cave. I don't want to see Dad's ex-colleagues ever again."
    "I'm not with the Cave anymore," he said. "Haven't been for months. They don't think you need protection. I do. This is my idea, and I'll take responsibility for it."
    "Oh. Uh…" She searched desperately for words. "I, um, really appreciate the thought, Connor, but—"
    "You don't take me seriously," he said. His voice was sharp with frustration. He flipped on his turn signal, and turned onto her street.
    "Novak is probably busy plotting to take over the world by now," Erin said. "I'm sure he has better things to do than bother with the likes of me. And how do you know where I live, anyway?"
    "Phone book."
    "That's not possible. I'm not in the book yet."
    He slanted her a wry glance. "You're in the database, Erin, even if you're not in the book. Anyone could find you." He parked in front of the decaying fa�ade of the Kinsdale Arms and killed the engine. "This place is grim. What happened to your apartment on Queen Anne?"
    Another surprise. "How did you know about—"
    "Ed bragged about you when you got that hotshot job at the museum and moved into your own place," he said. "We all knew."
    She winced at his mention of her father, and stared down at her lap. "This place is cheaper," she said simply. "Thanks for the ride."
    His car door slammed, and he followed her into the lobby. "I'll walk you up to your apartment."
    "That's not necessary, thank you," she told him.
    Her words were futile. He fell into step behind her as she started up the staircase. She had no idea how to deal with him. He was so stubborn and determined, and she didn't want to be rude to him.
    Six flights took forever, with his huge, quiet presence behind her. She stopped in front of her door. "Good night," she said pointedly.
    He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared down at her with unnerving intensity. "Erin. I really didn't want you to get hurt."
    "I'm all right," she whispered. It was a lie, but she couldn't resist the impulse to comfort him. She'd always been a hopeless softie. She found herself staring at the hollows under his cheekbones. The sensual shape of his lips, bracketed by harsh lines. It had been so long since she'd seen his gorgeous, radiant grin.
    The words flew out of her mouth. "Do you, um, want to come in?"
    "Yeah," he said.
    Her stomach did a terrified back flip. She unlocked her door.
    He followed her into her apartment. She flipped on the floor lamp she'd found at a rummage sale years ago, with a wicker laundry basket she had rigged for the lampshade. It cast a strange pattern of warm, reddish slices of light and shadow around the cramped room.
    "It's not much," she said hesitantly. "I had to sell most of my stuff. Here, let me move this pile of books. Sit down. I can make you some coffee, or tea, if you'd like. I'm afraid I

haven't got much to offer in the way of food. A can of