Assumed Identity - By Julie Miller Page 0,47

into the door handle. A walk-in refrigerator, like the one at the bar. The chain that hung from the pin rattled with every thump. She’d been locked inside.

He removed the pin and yanked the door open. “Rob—”

“Stay the hell away from my baby!”

Jake dodged a blast of pepper spray, catching Robin by the wrist and knocking the canister from her grip. But not before the stinging chemical splashed his neck.

“Jake? I’m sorry. I thought...” She froze for a second, her wrist pinned to the wall beneath his hand, her eyes glued to the knife he still held, her face blanched with shock and confusion.

“Ah, hell.” He tucked the blade into his belt and released her. “Don’t you have any sense, lady? You know what I thought?”

Instead of answering, she shoved him back a step. “Emma!”

She charged down the hall and Jake ran after. “I haven’t secured that end of the building yet.” He grabbed her by the arm, but she twisted away and shot through her office door. “Damn it!”

He caught the door before it slammed back in his face and followed her into the room. “I just disarmed you. How are you going to defend yourself now? You’re running blind into an unknown situation. Your outside door is swinging wide open. Nobody else is here. There’s nothing good about this scenario. You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Completely ignoring every stern warning, she hurried across the room to Emma’s bassinet.

“Robin—”

“Shh.” Seriously? She pressed a finger to her lips before leaning over the white basket. Then she reached inside and whispered a prayer.

Ignoring the burning skin at his collar and his fuming frustration, Jake toned it down a notch as she pulled up the cover. He sure as hell didn’t want to be responsible for scaring Emma again. “Is the kid okay?”

“Sleeping.” She smiled as tears spilled over her cheeks. “Like a baby.”

And then she crossed the room and walked into him. No, she burrowed into Jake’s chest. She pressed her cheek against his pounding heart and wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him the way a drowning woman clung to a life preserver. “Thank you.” She hiccuped a sound and squeezed him a little tighter. “Thank you.”

The emotions that had raged through Jake’s system—concern, anger, suspicion—short-circuited.

“Ah, hell. Robin?” Forgetting that this was all kinds of dangerous, Jake wound an arm behind her waist and palmed the back of her head, holding on just as tight. She quivered against him before settling impossibly closer, nestling her head beneath his chin, imprinting his body with the memory of small, sweet breasts, long thighs and firm hips. Was she crying? Shaking with anger? He’d been chasing a suspicious employee and a mystery player with a lot of money and a collection of photographs. What had she been dealing with in here? “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You scared the tar out of me with that giant knife. And I was already...” She fisted her hand and pressed it against his shoulder, a friendly reprimand rather than a punch. Good. He was glad she still had the gumption to call him on his crude lack of manners. Made him feel a little less like the bad guy here. But then her fist opened up and her fingers dug into his shirt in one of those clutching grasps that made him crazy, and the skin and muscle underneath danced in response to the needy contact. She was burrowing in again and Jake couldn’t seem to remember why this was a bad idea.

“Already what?” He tunneled his fingers beneath her hair to find chilled skin at her nape. Oh, man. How long had she been locked up in there? His shoulders seemed to shift of their own volition, folding around her to surround her in warmth. He’d rethink this whole embrace thing tomorrow. Right now he felt like he needed to hold on to her, too. Like touching her was the only way he could convince those worrisome instincts of his that she was all right. Just like she’d needed to see and touch her baby to know that Emma was safe. Only, Robin wasn’t all right. She was shivering. “Honey, you’ve got to talk to me. I can’t keep coming over here to watch you every damn night and keep tabs on all the idiots who work for you—”

“You’ve been watching...? Did you just call me honey?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I was kind of hoping