Chapter Three - Boy Meets Girl

There was someone in her house. It took Kate all of ten seconds to figure this out, to know beyond the shadow of a doubt that she wasn't alone. The creak sounded like a shot in the dark, echoing through the foyer and robbing Kate of breath as she trembled in the open doorway.

Earlier, when she'd left for work, the door had been locked. Olivia had mentioned in passing that the door had a tendency to stick unless the handle was wiggled just-so, and Kate distinctly recalled twisting the key in the lock, then jiggling and testing said lock on her way out the door. And since she hadn't yet given Lilly a key of her own, that only left one possible explanation. Someone had broken into her house tonight. Her eyes bore into the gaping darkness of the foyer, unable to discern so much as the outline of the entryway furniture.

The intruder could still be in the house. Ice washed over Kate, and she told herself to move, to run—but she couldn't. Oh, God, she couldn't move. It was just like those dreams she used to have. Nightmares where she was surrounded by the dark, standing on a deserted, fog-shrouded street and she knew that someone was chasing her, that she needed to run like hell, but … couldn't. Her muscles coiled now, ready to spring, and still she remained glued to the porch, a fine cold chill working its way over her skin. This was no dream; this was reality. A twig snapped, somewhere to her left, on the other side of the wraparound porch.

No! Kate sprang into action, turning her back to the open doorway, whirling away from the scuffling sound at the other end of the porch, closer now. She stumbled down the steps, tripped over her own feet on the last one, righted herself, and sprinted across the yard. Her gaze darted to the house next door. The windows were all dark. Oh Lord, what if there was no one home? What if her neighbor was sound asleep and the intruder grabbed Kate before anyone even answered the door? What would Lilly do without her?

Was the man still behind her? She didn't know. She couldn't hear anything over the rush of her own pulse, a steady thrum-thrum-whoosh that filled her ears and blocked out all other sound. She felt like she was running in slow motion—she wasn't going to make it to her neighbor's porch. There was no way.

Scream, she commanded herself, scrambling up the wide set of steps and pounding on the front door until the sides of her hands ached. She only hoped her neighbor could hear the noise; each time her fists connected with the solid wooden door it felt slowed-down, muffled. She didn't dare turn around, expecting at any moment to be snatched roughly from behind.

Suddenly, above the blood rushing through her veins, Kate heard movement on the other side of the door. A loud thump, then a crash and a curse, could be heard from within the house. In the next instant, the door opened a crack and someone peered at her through the narrow opening. The faint glow of a lamp illuminated the man's face, and relief flooded through Kate in a welcome tidal wave. Only then did she risk throwing a glance over her shoulder. She didn't see anyone, thank God.

"Can I help you?" The man opened the door a little wider now, glancing right, then left.

"Yes," she gasped, gulping lungful after lungful of humid, salty air. "Please help me, someone—" Kate's gaze swung away from her own yard and back to the man in front of her. She froze. He was wearing makeup. And not just some black liner, either, but a full-out, Tammy Faye deal. "—broke into my house," she finished, her wide-eyed stare fixed to his face.

"Yeah?" He glowered at her. "Go call a cop."

"But—" She recoiled when he turned on his high-heeled shoes, stalked back into his house, and slammed the door in her face.

* * *

He didn't need this shit. Jaxson leaned over to untie the ankle straps on his shoes, then shoved them off, feeling a small measure of satisfaction when his kick sent the strappy heels flying across the kitchen. They hit the cabinet with a sharp thud, and he scowled. The woman's outline was faintly visible through the sheer peach curtain that covered the heavy block glass window pane in the front door. She hadn't left.

Jaxson was unaccustomed to the surge of guilt that tightened his chest when he replayed the way he'd just spoken to her, but he didn't particularly regret his sharp tongue. He was tired, his goddamn feet hurt from walking around in those goddamn heels all night, and he'd had his ass pinched by an eighty-five-year-old man tonight. A strange woman interrupting him, then gawking at his makeup job, when he'd been this close to putting an end to this wretched day and calling it a night, had been the last straw. It was added bullshit that he didn't need. Like it wasn't bad enough he was here as the DA's bitch. Jax had enough problems of his own. The woman outside could damn well take care of her own.

But she's a woman, his conscience whispered. It was a thready, tenuous sound that he hadn't heard in a very long time. He didn't want to be hearing it now. Jaxson sighed. The woman said she'd had a break-in. Who was she? Where did she live? Was her intruder still out there? Was that someone watching her, maybe even now coming after her? He rested his forehead on the linen-covered glass, cooling down for a second before he grasped the doorknob, twisted, and faced her, grim acceptance lacing his tone.

"Okay, get in the house," he told her, feeling magnanimous all of a sudden.

"Um…" She wrung her hands and shifted her insubstantial weight from one foot to the other, alternating wide, fearful eyes between the house to the left, and him.

"Is that your house?" he asked, forcing some softness into his tone.

She nodded. "There's someone over there." She shivered, and her terrified gaze settled on Jaxson.

"Come on, get in here and we'll call the police." He sighed, leaning forward to clasp his hand lightly over her arm, wincing a little at the sight of his glittering bangle bracelets next to her gold-dust skin. He drew her into the house, then glanced around one final time, but there wasn't much to see. The street was quiet. The rest of the neighborhood was in bed for the night. "The phone's this way."

He let go of her and passed through a set of French doors to the living room without waiting for her to follow. She did, though, and he met her halfway, a white plastic cordless phone held in his outstretched hand. "Are you okay?" he asked, noticing the way her hand shook when she accepted the phone and sank to the sofa.

She squeezed her eyes shut, nodded, and dialed 911, and he felt like an ass for not asking her sooner. Standing there watching her fingers turn white around the handset of the phone, light gold-and-brown hair falling forward to obscure part of her face, he felt most of his anger begin to cool and fade. She looked so small, almost fragile, sitting there on the couch, curling around herself, one arm wrapped tight around her middle as she spoke into the phone.

"I'd like to report, I mean, I need to report," she took a deep breath, "a break-in. My house was broken into tonight." Her voice became stronger as she listened to the dispatcher on the other end of the line, then recited her address.

A second later, she was looking up at Jax again with those wide eyes. Gray, he noticed. Her eyes were gray, maybe blue. The only light in the room came from a single china-blue lamp that sat perched on an antique-looking end table. Briefly he thought about flipping the switch for the overhead lighting but immediately decided against doing so. The woman in front of him looked freaked out enough as it was. Flooding the room in a sudden brightness probably wouldn't do a whole hell of a lot for her nerves, and the last thing Jaxson needed was a hysterical female. Clearly, she was already on the edge.

"They're on their way," she told him. "They said to stay on the line…"

"Okay." He nodded and dropped to the seat on the opposite end of the couch. She glanced at him, and her hands began to shake again. Jaxson carefully unwrapped her cool fingers from around the telephone receiver and easily plucked the object from her grasp.

"We're going to stay on the line, but I'm setting the phone down until the cops get here," he told the dispatcher.

"Thank you," she murmured when he'd place the phone facedown between them on the white-and-purple flowered sofa.

"Ah, I'm … sorry, about earlier." His lips twisted. "It's been a long day, ya know?"

"Yeah." She exhaled, then crammed her hands between her knees and trembled, her gaze a thousand miles away.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you, on the porch, okay?" he blurted, forcing the words out through lips that suddenly felt awkward. "I'm having a shit day and it was wrong to take it out on you."

"Oh." Her eyes darted to his. It was clear he'd managed to surprise her again. Considering the circumstances, he thought with a grimace, staring down at his cocktail dress, he'd have figured the woman would be beyond surprise at this point.

"I'm Jaxson, by the way," he said without holding out his hand. "Jaxson Green."

"Kate," she murmured, giving him another small, tense, not-quite smile. "I'm sorry I'm bothering you tonight." She paused and sucked in a deep breath. "I can't believe this is happening. We just moved in."

"We?" Jaxson shifted uncomfortably on the couch and entertained dark fantasies of ripping off his pantyhose and putting the damn things through a shredder.

"My sister Lilly lives with me," she answered before her spine stiffened. "Oh my God, I need to call her."

There was panic in her voice, and Jaxson reached into the beaded evening bag on the end table at his elbow. "Here." He shoved his cell phone at her. "Use this."

He watched as she punched in a number, her fingers appearing marginally steadier.

"Lilly?" She cleared her throat. "Are you still at Alexandra's? I need you to stay there, okay? I know you're spending the night. Don't come home until I call you again. Yeah, no, everything is … fine, but … someone broke into the house tonight." She held the phone away from her ear, and Jax heard the screech from the other end of the phone, clear on the other side of the couch. "No, I was at work. I came home and the door was open. And then I thought someone was chasing me. I think whoever broke in was on the porch with me, yeah, around the side of the house. I heard a noise. Yeah. The police are on their way. I'm fine, Lilly, I promise. This is the neighbor's phone. I'm next door. Listen, I've got to go, but I'll see you in the morning, okay? I'll just meet you at Alexandra's. Love you, too."

The deep tones of a doorbell reverberated through the house as she handed the cell phone back to Jaxson.

"The police are here."