He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

to fuss over me. I’ve been feeding myself for quite a while now, without anyone else’s help. I had a sandwich earlier.”
    He grimaced. “I haven’t been much of a host since you got here. Is there anything you need? I could go to the store—”
    “Karen has been keeping me stocked with everything I need. I certainly don’t expect you to wait on me. You have far more important things to do.” Her smile faded as her gaze fell to the papers strewn across his desk. “Unless you snuck past me sometime today, I don’t think you’ve eaten since breakfast. I haven’t wanted to disturb you, but you’ve got to take a break sometime. I could fix you something to eat. Are you hungry?”
    Yes. But not for food. He cleared his throat and made a show of straightening his papers while he reminded himself she was a witness, staying under his roof because she needed protection. No matter how much he wished he could have met her under different circumstances, he hadn’t. She was off-limits. Period. “I’ll eat later. Thanks.”
    She moved farther into the room, her gaze lightly touching on the walls of bookshelves, the grouping of chairs in front of the fireplace, the flat screen TV over the mantle. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said, stopping in front of his desk with a half-smile on her face.
    Logan stared into those deep blue eyes and tried to remember what question she was talking about, but it seemed that every one of his brain cells had taken a vacation when she walked into the room. “What question was that?”
    “I was wondering how late you were going to work. You have to take a break sometime or you won’t be able to function tomorrow. There’s an old Miami Dolphins game coming on TV in a few minutes. I thought you might like to watch a few plays, take your mind off . . . things.”
    “You like football?”
    Her eyes widened. “You don’t?”
    “Hell yes, I like football. It’s sort of a genetic requirement, being a guy and all.”
    She put her hands on her hips. “So, being a woman and all, I’m not supposed to like sports? Is that what you’re saying?”
    He laughed and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Please accept my apologies. My chauvinism is showing.”
    The smile that curved her lips had him groaning inside. The woman had no idea how appealing she was.
    “You’re forgiven. But only if you watch the game with me.” She plopped down in one of the stuffed armchairs next to the desk.
    He looked down at the stack of interviews he hadn’t read through yet.
    “Half an hour. You can spare that much time, can’t you?” she said. “We’ll just watch the game for a few minutes, give your mind a break. It will help you see things differently once you get your mind on something else. I’ve spent hours in front of my computer before trying to solve a problem. I’ve found that when I step away for a few minutes, I come back at the problem with a fresh perspective, and I can usually solve it much more quickly that way.”
    That’s exactly what he did when working on a case. “All right, I’ll defer to your wisdom. You sound like you know what you’re talking about.” He shoved his chair back and stood. “We can watch the game in here if you want.” He grabbed his remote control out of the top desk drawer and handed it to her. “I’ve got to run upstairs for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
    He strode across the room to the door.
    “Logan?”
    Amanda’s soft, hesitant voice had him turning back around. “Yes?” he asked, hating that the sadness that had disappeared from her eyes a moment ago was back.
    “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For letting me stay here. For keeping me safe.”
    He wanted to cross the room and pull her into his arms, hold her close and tell her no one would ever hurt her again. But he wasn’t sure if she’d welcome his comfort or if she’d withdraw back behind the wall she often used to block the world out.
    His fingers curled around the door jamb and he forced himself, against every protective instinct he had, not to run back into the room and scoop her up in his arms. “Any time.”
    L ike a rubbernecker on the highway, unable to pass a horrendous crash without looking, Amanda inched toward Logan’s desk to see what he’d been reading when she entered the room. She leaned forward to look at the papers when a stack of envelopes caught her eye. Her name and address were on the top one. A utility bill. Logan must have picked