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elevators.
    “Hey.” His low voice hummed through her.
    She couldn’t look at him. Didn’t attempt it. Because no matter how much they argued, she still thought he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes on. In the last two days she’d even fantasized about kissing him. Feeling his hands on her skin and his tongue in her mouth, the weight of his body on top of hers…
    It was absolutely ludicrous. Because she resented the hell out of the man. She disagreed with his decisions and felt belittled by his know-it-all attitude. So what if he was eleven years older than her. Joe had been more than twice her age, but at least he’d treated her with a little respect. He never talked down to her the way Mighty Mac Reynolds did.
    Most of all, she hated the feeling of loneliness that had descended like a low-flying vulture ready to pick at her hollowed-out carcass. Loneliness that made her ache for something she’d never have, because she’d never let anyone get close to her again.
    Why, all of a sudden, did she feel this way? Joe’s death had thrown her into a tailspin, that’s why. The sudden sharp longing for a man couldn’t be because she wanted Mac Reynolds. Tracey groaned inwardly at her spastic thoughts. She told her stupid heart to slow down.
    During the elevator ride, the silence screamed as loud as her car in high gear and it was just as deafening.
    “Where are you headed?” Tracey asked. They didn’t have any track time because of Fan Appreciation Day. She looked straight ahead, avoiding his imposing frame in the mirrored walls and the damn dimpled chin that made her want to brush her tongue into its depths.
    “Same place as you.”
    “I doubt it.” She shook her head and forced herself to look in his eyes. “Ed’s picking me up. We have a meeting with the medical examiner. Joe’s autopsy report came in and he’s going to tell us the findings.”
    Mac nodded. “Like I said. Same place as you.”
    Tracey bit the inside of her lip to keep from screaming. She hated that he knew her every move. It seemed she couldn’t get away from the man except for when she went to bed at night. And even then he haunted her.
    Ed waited in the lobby and they piled into his black Crown Victoria waiting at the hotel curb. The soft, tan leather seat enveloped Tracey, but the comfort did little to dispel the growing knot of apprehension blossoming in her gut.
    The tension between Mac and her didn’t get past Ed, but thankfully he didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he filled the strained silence with conversation about the competition.
    Tracey tried to listen, tried to ignore the feeling that Mac was watching her. She stared out the window and watched Middle America whiz by. Old buildings dotted new construction, and families, couples and people went about their seemingly carefree lives, but she never took her peripheral vision off the man next to her.
    Fifteen uncomfortable minutes later, they pulled up to the six-story glass medical building. Chills streaked down Tracey’s spine as she walked through the cold entryway, reminding her why they were there. Another ten minutes passed before a secretary seated them in a sterile office.
    Tracey smoothed a wrinkle in her trademark cargo pants and willed her rattled nerves to disappear. Why all the fuss? Everyone knew Joe had a bad heart. The autopsy had been routine, hadn’t it? Anxiety made her belly ache. The wall clock ticked loudly, marking the seconds like a time bomb.
    A balding man wearing a white lab coat entered, followed by another man who Tracey immediately recognized. A short man with curly brown hair and soft brown eyes.
    The knot in her stomach tightened painfully.
    Tracey hadn’t seen Detective Hahn since the investigation of her accident four years ago. He hadn’t found the man who’d tossed the deadly oil balloon. It was as if the guy had vanished off the face of the earth.
    “I’m Dr. Praytor,” the first man said. He shook hands with everyone,