She had pleased him in the last month. He couldn’t disagree. But he didn’t want her pleasing any other agents that way. Jealousy reared its ugly head and his jaw clenched. Doolittle took that opportunity to enter the room.
“Shaunessy, good to see you awake. Thought you might sleep away a few days.”
He turned to Meg and asked, “Are you ready to go, Miss O’Hara? I promise we’ll try and keep the time at the office as brief as possible. But we do need an official statement along with any other information you can give us about what happened with Moreno.”
She nodded and turned back to Chris. He grabbed for control but his emotions were too close to the surface. They kept getting stronger and deeper the more he looked at her and he hadn’t been fully in control of them for a while now. Did he truly want to be?
When she leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek, he turned his head at the last second so his lips touched hers. It was brief but powerful. Her eyes lingered on his and her emotions--did they mirror his? Was it what he thought, or wishful thinking on his part? Soon, he would be able to find out and do something about it.
Meg stood up, squeezing his hand one more time. Pushing his tray closer to him, she opened his milk, giving him a saucy grin. “This one’s no charge.” He didn’t say anything to her, not sure what there was to say.
“Don’t let anything happen to her,” Chris instructed as they turned to leave.
Doolittle put a hand on her arm and nodded. “Don’t worry, Shaunessy, I won’t. She’s vital to our case.”
Jealousy tugged at his heart at the simple gesture. He attempted a brave smile as she walked out of the room. Yes, Meg was important to the case, but she was even more important to him.
* * * *
“Christopher,” Ellen Shaunessy called out in surprise from where she stood in the kitchen peeling potatoes. “I didn’t realize you were coming home today.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Her hug sent pain through Chris’s injured shoulder and he tried to hide his wince.
She glanced at the mostly faded bruises on his face. “What happened? You were injured and didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Gazing at the blond woman who was still as beautiful today as she’d been while he was growing up, he took a deep breath. Maybe he should have waited a few more weeks to come see her. By then the bruises would have been completely gone and hopefully his shoulder would have been less painful. He still had a hard time moving his arm and the rehab exercises only made it worse. Technically he should have been wearing the sling but he hadn’t wanted to alarm his mother too much. Too late, she never missed a thing.
“I didn’t tell you because I know you would have worried,” he answered her gently. “I’m fine, there’s no permanent damage. I’ve been doing some rehab back in Baltimore and they gave me the okay to drive. Since Chesapeake Bay isn’t too far, I thought I’d make my first trip to see you. And maybe get an incredible home cooked meal out of the deal.”
Mom eyed him fiercely. It wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt nor would it be the last. His job wasn’t without risks but that was one of the things he liked about it. His mother was aware of that, but she also understood he enjoyed helping people, and putting bad guys in prison was a great way to do that.
Her arms crossed in front of her as she glared and he gave her his most charming grin. “Don’t you try and worm your way out of telling me what happened by throwing compliments at me. Now give, I want details. How bad was it?”
She began to run her hands over his arms then shoulder. Pulling back with a groan, he said, “All right, I give.”
He told his mother the abbreviated, less violent version. Her eyes shimmered with concern. “But it was a few weeks ago, Mom, and I’m fine now, just a little sore still. You’ll be happy to know I’m on desk duty until the trial. Now why don’t you let me help you peel those potatoes?”
She stepped back waving her hand in the direction of the sink. “Be my guest. And you better peel a whole lot more if you plan on staying to eat them. I’m assuming your appetite wasn’t injured as well.”
Chuckling, he picked up the vegetable and a peeler. “Not at all.”
“Okay, then I can get to work on the dessert. I wasn’t planning on much but now that you’re here I suppose I should try and whip something up.”
About to object, the look in his mother’s eyes brooked no argument, and he honestly was longing for something sweet to finish off his meal. Meg had usually been the one to make dessert. He’d been missing that for several weeks.
Thinking about Meg, he looked out the window into the backyard he’d spent lots of time in as a kid. It had been almost three weeks since he’d seen her and he wondered how she was. Oh, he’d been in contact with the agents who were guarding her and they assured him she was fine. She was swimming quite a bit and had complained to them she needed to do something to alleviate the boredom. Was there something else he could do to help her pass the time? It could be several months before the trial started.
A few ideas passed through his mind and he smiled when he thought of Meg and how happy he hoped she’d be if he could set them up. No matter how much he wanted to he had to stay away. Time without him was what she needed. Maybe she would forget him without his presence every day. Sometimes damsels fell for their knights only because of the rescue. He didn’t want that to be the reason she cared for him. And he’d been here in Maryland where it wasn’t convenient to run down to Florida.
He hoped to God she didn’t forget him though. He’d been thinking about her almost every second since he’d last seen her walking away with Doolittle. She must be scared, though certainly relieved that she didn’t have to report for waitressing duty every day. She’d been petrified that her family wouldn’t want her back, that they were so upset with her they couldn’t forgive her for causing them pain.
That was silly. They were her family and they loved her. Yes, she’d made a stupid mistake going off with Eddie but she’d never intended to hurt them. She’d only needed a bit of excitement. Hell, she felt guilty as sin and wanted to make it up to them. They’d forgive her, how could they not?
Chris watched as a gust of wind blew through the yard causing some of the newly turned orange and yellow leaves to shimmy to the ground. Fall was approaching and his father would be furiously raking all those rogue leaves that dared spoil his immaculate lawn.
As if on cue, his father dragged a barrel into the middle of the yard and began to rake. He had to laugh as the tall man, whose hair had begun to morph from blond to gray, attacked the few dozen leaves littering the ground. When they were kids, he’d actually saved the leaves and once or twice each fall allowed him and his sister to put them in a big pile and spend a few hours jumping into them. But then he would insist they rake them all up again and put them back in the bags they’d come from.
