When the Storm Breaks by Heather Lowell Page B

her. Basically, she’d witnessed a crime and bumped her head Friday night. Worse things happened to people every day without sending them to the psychiatrist’s couch.
    “But you need someone to talk to, and your friends certainly aren’t qualified—has any of them ever been through an experience like yours? Why not see a doctor?” Sean persisted.
    “I doubt I’d be able to find a shrink who had tripped over a modern day Jack the Ripper and then bashed his head on a stairway.” She held up a hand to stop his next argument. “Besides, I have you.”
    “What?”
    “You and Aidan, of course. You two, better than anyone, would know how I’m feeling. And you have a vested interest in me,” she said, smiling.
    Sean wondered if she was flirting with him. “I do?”
    She gave him a strange look. “The case?”
    “Oh, yeah. The case.” He paused. “Of course you can call either one of us night or day to talk about the case, or to just—talk. You know how to reach us, right?”
    “I have your card.”
    She continued to study him, curious. As she watched him, she sensed that he was deeply aware of her as a woman. God knew she was intensely aware of him. It was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
    Was he here late on a Sunday night for some reason other than just doing his job?
    The phone on the nightstand rang, startling them both. While she talked, he looked at her face in profile, noting the clean line of her small nose, the delicate arch of her cheekbone, and the stubborn thrust of her chin. He wondered what it was about the combination of her features that made her so beautiful to him.
    Sean didn’t realize he was staring until Claire hung up the phone and tilted her head inquiringly at him.
    “Who called?” he asked, hoping he didn’t look as stupid as he felt.
    “Olivia. She’s going shopping tonight and wondered what I wanted. I’ll be staying with her for a couple of days, until I can get a locksmith out to my place.”
    “Good. I don’t like the idea of you being alone right now. Does Olivia have a security system?”
    “She lives in a secured building. You don’t think—”
    “I don’t think anything, except that it would be a good idea for you to stay quiet for a few days and avoid your previous routines. Don’t make your life predictable. Stay with Olivia for as long as you can—it’s just common sense. You can’t always have a guard at your door.”
    “A guard ?” Claire’s voice rose.
    He nodded toward the hall and then realized she hadn’t noticed the hospital security guard outside her door. Shit.
    “Since when?” she demanded. “And why?”
    “There’s a guard on this floor checking all IDs. It’s probably just hospital policy.”
    “That’s lame. Try again.”
    He rubbed his neck. “We’re just being cautious, maybe overly so. We don’t know for sure that you’re in any danger.” Just a burning feeling in my gut whenever I think about it.
    Claire looked unconvinced.
    Sean was angry with himself for scaring her. If he’d been thinking straight, rather than drooling over her, he might have handled the situation with a bit more finesse.
    “Why don’t you get some more sleep?” he said, backing toward the door before he stuck his foot in his mouth again. “Sorry I woke you. I didn’t mean to.”
    “Sure. Run away. I’ll sleep great tonight, thanks to you.”
    “Do you want me to stay for awhile?” He felt guilty enough to make the offer, though he hoped sincerely she wouldn’t take him up on it.
    “No. One guard is enough.”
    “Okay. I’ll be in touch.”
    He slid out the door and shut it behind him.
    “Jackass,” Sean muttered to himself as he strode down the corridor. “You really screwed that up.” He’d jumped out of airplanes during his years in the army. He’d faced down armed felons high on crystal meth when he was working the streets. And after twenty minutes with Claire Lambert he was tied up in knots like a horny