Set Up For Love by Lynde Lakes Page B

private practice.”
    “So you tote a .38.”
    “Chasing serial killers is a dangerous business. Like tonight, they often get a fix on their nemesis.”
    “Then you believe he did this?”
    “It would be in character. He gets his kicks from terrorizing women.” Jill had to weigh carefully what she told this newsman. She didn’t want her words to end up in print.
    “If it’s him, there’s a break in pattern. You’re beautiful, but not a model.”
    Beautiful? Dane couldn’t mean that. Tess was the one with all the beauty—the lovely girl the killer had vowed would be next.
    Jill swallowed. “He knows I’m after him and wants me to back off.”
    “There are hundreds of cops and agents after him. Why single you out?”
    “I’m the only psychologist. And the only woman.”
    She glanced toward the back of the house.
    “You’re worried about the blood. What do you think it means?”
    Jill shrugged. If she told him what she feared, it might come true. “I think you should know. Someone in a dark van followed me last night.”
    “What?” His shout could’ve drowned out thunder. His neck flushed. “Why didn’t you tell me about it earlier?”
    “Prior to the hit-and-run, I had no reason.” She exhaled. “I reported the tail, called for backup—the usual security routine. I didn’t expect trouble today.”
    He uncurled his fists and his skin returned to its normal color. “Up to now this guy’s kept a low profile. Why would he risk this?”
    “He thrives on bold acts. He believes he has an edge that makes him immune to capture.”
    Dane’s eyes darkened. “What’s the missing link?” Frustration reverberated from his voice.
    “The studio.” She watched for his reaction.
    The muscle in Dane’s jaw tightened and he met her gaze. “Stop studying me as if I were one of your cases.”
    “Don’t get paranoid, Clark.”
    Dane remained silent for a moment.
    His eyes softened. “We’re both jumpy.” He came close and gently touched her arm. “How about something to eat? I’m good with eggs.” His deep tone soothed her. “Then we can try to make some sense out of this.”
    “I don’t feel up to eating.”
    Dane led her to the couch. “You will. I’m great in a kitchen.”
    She sank into the soft cushions. All she could think about was the blood smear.
    “Dane—”
    “Hush. You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll take care of everything. Just rest.” He placed an extra pillow behind her back, and headed for the kitchen.
    With thumb and forefinger, Jill massaged the bridge of her nose. How could Dane expect her to rest? Someone had been in her house, perhaps had even gone through her things. What had the intruder learned about her?
    Low piano music drifted from her stereo. Dane must have turned it on. His footfalls faded as he returned to the kitchen. The pills the doctor had given her kicked in. She felt weightless. Jill closed her eyes and relaxed under the spell of Clair de Lune . Her tension floated away.
    She must have dozed off—the next thing she knew wonderful aromas of bacon and toasting bread came from the kitchen. A pang of hunger shot through her stomach. It was then she remembered she hadn’t eaten that day.
    Dane hummed as he moved about the kitchen. His deep baritone voice carried into the living room and brought Jill a sense of well-being. It was good he’d stayed. She wasn’t ready to be alone. Usually she loved her solitude, but not tonight. She hadn’t invited a man to her home for at least a year. Now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to have Dane in her kitchen.
     
     

Chapter Fourteen
     
    Minutes later, Dane placed a tray in front of Jill. “This ought to renew your strength and make you feel better.” Anything to keep her mind off the killer, he thought. The maniac wasn’t after a model now. He was after an understatedly beautiful FBI agent.
    Dane studied Jill’s expression to determine if she’d gotten over her initial shock of the break-in