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so-called bodyguard she neither wanted nor felt she needed had decided to take it upon himself to exercise his will over hers.
    He had a lot to learn about dealing with a Cavanaugh.
    It was all Janelle could do to keep from throwing the receiver she was holding at his head. Instead, she threw it down hard into the cradle. The impact caused it to bounce back out. She glared as Sawyer replaced it. He was acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.
    She swung around to face him. There were less than two inches of viable space between them. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    Maybe it was his imagination, but he could almost feel the heat sizzling between them. This was one angry woman. Not to mention reckless.
    “Saving you from improper conduct charges,” Sawyer replied mildly. He paused, as if thinking the matter over. “Maybe even saving your butt.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “I can take care of my own butt, thank you,” she informed him icily. “The only thing your job calls for is blending in with the scenery and, on the off chance that some time during our hopefully short association there might be a bullet hurtling toward me, throwing yourself in front of me so that the bullet gets you and not me. However, until that bullet does come hurtling toward me, I would be grateful if you just find a way to fade into the shadows—and keep your hands at your sides.”
    Stripping off his sports jacket, he hung it over the back of his newly acquired chair. The muscles on his chest and arms seemed to have a life of their own as they rippled and flexed. Janelle tried not to notice, but they were even more impressive than the holster and weapon he wore strapped to his upper torso.
    “You through?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
    Janelle lifted her chin, a fighter not about to give an inch. “For now.”
    “Talking to Wayne like that is enough to get you thrown off the case and most likely out of the D.A.’s office if anyone finds out—unless ‘Daddy’ can pull some mighty strong strings for you.”
    The smug bastard. Right about now, she found herself wishing that her father was able to pull a noose, not a string. Tightly.
    Janelle blew out a breath, refusing to lose it and let this cocky detective think he got to her.
    “For the record,” she told him evenly, her voice flat in order to retain control over it, “‘Daddy’ has got nothing to do with my career, how far I advance or don’t advance. We happen to share the same last name and the same genes. He did not get me here and he cannot keep me here if Kleinmann is unhappy with my work.” She raised her head and unconsciously rolled forward on her toes because, even in her four-inch heels, she was at least a half foot shorter than Sawyer was and it galled her. “Do I make myself clear?”
    He let his eyes wash over her slowly, thoroughly, before saying, “Yes.”
    The man was mocking her, Janelle thought, but she couldn’t very well say that without sounding as if she were just this side of crazy. A Neanderthal like Boone would probably say something about it being her time of the month rather than the fact that he was an insufferable jerk.
    “Oh, and one more thing,” she added, her tone deceptively calm.
    About to sit down, Sawyer looked her way and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
    She did her best not to raise her voice. There was a knock on the door, but she ignored it until she finished making her point. “Don’t you ever, ever do something like that again.”
    “And if I do?”
    “I’ll cut off your hand.”
    Tough, he thought, appraising the petite woman before him. He wondered if that was because of her last name or because it was inherent in her nature. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    Janelle could literally feel her back going up. Damn, what had she done to have this jackass thrust into her life?
    “Do that.” Whoever was on the other side of her door knocked again, just as timidly as the first time.