Of course he could.
And in the meantime, Jane was fine. Lauren was fine. It was only vandalism. Nothing dangerous. Not like, say, getting caught in a bank robbery and being held hostage for three days.
The thought made his gut clench.
How was Lauren handling this? She was a crime victim. She might act like she was over it now, but you didn’t walk away from what she’d been through without it affecting you. Jack had been a sniper. He knew.
He dried his hands, reached for his keys. “I’ll check it out.”
***
THE BAKERY WAShot as hell. Condensation dripped on the outside of the steel-and-glass refrigerated cases.
Behind the counter, Lauren was dripping, too. Sweat slid down her spine; soaked the band of her bra. She wiped her face with the back of her forearm.
The bakery had nearly emptied, the climbing temperatures inside driving patrons outside to the tables under the trees. Apparently the heat was more bearable outdoors away from the ovens. But the shift meant that she and Thalia were kept running, serving orders, bussing tables, as Jane dealt with the repairman out back.
Lauren scraped the last scoop of ice from the cooler, her mind leaping ahead. They couldn’t make drinks without ice. She glanced toward the kitchen door. If Jane didn’t come back soon, Lauren might have to close, if only to run out and buy more ice.
God, it was hot, a blanketing heat that smothered her in exhaustion.
The silver bells over the entrance jangled. Her stomach tightened like a fist. More than a year after the robbery, she still tensed sometimes at sudden entrances. She looked up, forcing a smile to her lips.
Jack stood in the door of the bakery wearing jeans and a damp white T-shirt, projecting an air of cool authority.
And she just... melted. Like the icing on the cupcakes.
Wow. Just... Wow. He looked different out of uniform, younger, tougher, more aggressive. Everything that was soft and weak and fluid inside her just flowed toward him, attracted by his power and sense of purpose. As if he could stamp her, mold her, shape her somehow into something stronger and more durable. He had all the confidence she lacked right now. How was she supposed to resist him? Did she even want to?
The jeans rode low on his narrow hips. The T-shirt molded to his heavily muscled chest. Beneath the thin white cotton, she could see the shadow of his body hair. She flushed all over as if she’d been scalded.
He came toward her with that fluid walk she admired so much, all contained power and masculine grace.Oh, God. She was abruptly aware that her face was hot and undoubtedly shiny. She probably stank, too.
Most individuals selected partners of comparable attractiveness. At her best, Lauren was, well, interesting-looking. And right now, she wasnotat her best.
Be cool. “Hi, Jack.”
Those black Italian eyes met hers. “Lauren.”
Save me, she thought, and then chided herself. He wasn’t here for her. “Jane’s in the back with the repairman. You can go out through the kitchen.”
He nodded once, his gaze sharp on her face, like he was waiting for something.
“She, um, she didn’t want to call you. But her landlord said she needed to get a police report so he could file an insurance claim.”
“Okay. Thanks.” But he didn’t move on. “You doing okay?”
His concern made her throat clog. She worked enough moisture into her mouth to swallow. “I’m fine.”
A smile touched his lips. “Because you look like you could use a cookie.”
Something inside her eased and bloomed into a smile.
His eyes warmed. “That’s my girl,” he murmured.
Her breath caught. Okay, he didn’t actually say that. She must have misheard him.Thattagirl, maybe?
He smiled again, a brief curve to that hard mouth, and walked away, leaving her hot and longing and bewildered.
