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to a woman. But to be sexually attracted to Holly Frasier was inappropriate. She was his assignment, his responsibility. He had hard-and-fast rules about that. He never got emotionally attached to the victim or their family. Emotionsimpaired judgment, slowed reaction time, blurred goals.
    He really needed some rest, and some distance from her.
    “Jack? Coffee?”
    He blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. Coffee would be great.”
    “Okay. As soon as I finish loading the dishwasher.”
    She worked quickly and efficiently, rinsing dishes and placing them, just so, in the rack.
    “Didn’t you just wash those dishes?”
    “Some of them had been sitting for days.”
    “But you just scrubbed them, so why put them in the dishwasher?”
    She sent him a sidelong glance. “Because it’s my house.”
    He smiled to himself and leaned against the counter, watching her. He told himself he needed to know her, inside and out, in order to protect her.
    As he’d noticed on the plane, she was in excellent physical condition. Her arms and shoulders were delicately muscled. Her tummy was flat and firm below gently rounded breasts. He already knew she had a great backside—he’d felt it, and the fitted black slacks she wore confirmed it. If the trend continued, her thighs and calves would be just as shapely and firm.
    His body tightened again. He wiped a hand over his evening stubble and, with great effort, pulled his gaze away from her body.
    Control, Ice Man.
    His gaze was caught by a flashing red light on her telephone. “You have phone messages.”
    She looked up and sighed. “I thought Debi was going to check them for me.”

    “Check them now.”
    She shot him a look that plainly said she didn’t like him telling her what to do in her own house, but she pressed the button.
    “Holly, it’s Bob. I know you’re not coming back until Sunday night, but could we meet for lunch on Thursday? I really need to talk to you.”
    “Who’s Bob?” Jack asked, his interest piqued, but Holly just deleted the message and went on to the next.
    It was a telemarketer. She deleted the message.
    “Holly, it’s Bob again. Maybe we could get together Wednesday instead. Have lunch at Benson’s Restaurant. Please call me as soon as you get back.”
    She pressed Delete. That was the last one.
    “Who is Bob and what’s that about lunch?”
    “He teaches at the high school. We have lunch together every couple of weeks. Bob has a lot of issues and he says I’m a good listener.”
    Jack rubbed his neck in frustration. “Issues. What kind of issues?”
    “You know, problems with his mother, problems with…dating. Stuff like that.”
    “You didn’t put him on your list.”
    “I’ve never gone out with him.”
    “Then, what do you call those lunches?”
    “Lunches.” She sent him a challenging glare.
    “See, this is what I was talking about. You may think they’re just lunches, but this guy sounds pretty desperate. Maybe he, like Sheffield, thinks you two have a relationship.”
    Holly opened her mouth to protest, but Jack shook his head. “Now, is there anyone else you’ve neglected to mention?”
    She frowned and lifted her chin a fraction of aninch. “No, or maybe I should say, not that I can recall right now.”
    Jack ignored her sarcasm. He knew it was difficult for victims to understand the depth of obsession that could lead to stalkings. She’d given him every name she could think of. He’d already known he’d have to dig for some of them.
    “What’s Bob’s full name?”
    “Robert Winger. Jack, he’s very shy. What are you going to do?”
    “Add his name to the list you gave me. I’m having a background check run on each of them.” He’d call Decker first thing in the morning and add Winger’s name.
    His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in hours. “I don’t suppose you have anything to eat, do you?”
    “Old popcorn,” she said dryly as she filled the coffeepot. “I’ve been gone for two weeks and