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the second floor. Her heartbeat accelerated.
    “Judd?”
    The footsteps grew louder as they descended the creaking stairs.
    Lindsay crossed the linoleum-floored kitchen and waited at the foot of the stairs, her pulse racing as she clutched both hands into tight fists on either side of her hips.
     
     
    Barbara Jean Hughes, confined to a wheelchair since a terrible car crash five years ago, responded to Griffin Powell’s masculine charm the way most other women did—she practically melted into a puddle. Good grief! Nic didn’t get it. Yes, he was good-looking, masculine to the nth degree, dressed like a GQ model, drove a fancy sports car, and was reported to be a multimillionaire. Those qualities alone would be enough to make the average female swoon. But if there was one thing Nicole Baxter had never been, it was average. She wasn’t average height and weight for a woman. Her IQ wasn’t average, nor was her taste in men.
    Powerful, macho, overconfident men turned her off. From the time she matured early at the age of eleven, she’d had to deal with the opposite sex. Snide remarks about her breasts. Jokes about her height. Envy because she was the smartest kid in her class—even smarter than the smartest boy.
    Men might like women with big breasts, but most didn’t like highly intelligent women who graduated from college at the age of eighteen, stood eye to eye with many, and towered over some. She was—always had been—too tall, too big, and too smart. Not to mention far too opinionated and outspoken.
    “Ms. Hughes, why don’t you let us take you down to the cafeteria and get you something to eat. A late lunch,” Griff said.
    Nic had been trying to convince Barbara Jean that she needed to eat, but the woman had refused to leave the ICU waiting area.
    “What if Gale Ann wakes up? Or what if she…No, I can’t leave.” With Nic, Barbara Jean had been adamant.
    When Barbara Jean didn’t respond to Griff’s suggestion, only stared up at him through a mist of tears, he reached down, grasped her hand tenderly and said, “When your sister regains consciousness, she doesn’t need to see you haggard and worried, now does she? You have to eat and rest to keep up your strength.” He paused momentarily to allow his comments to sink in, then added, “For Gale Ann’s sake, you have to take care of yourself.”
    Gag me with a spoon, Nic thought. Griff was as smooth as silk. Too damn smooth to suit her. He was one of those guys who could charm the birds from the trees. A real silver-tongued devil.
    It was obvious by the tentative smile on Barbara Jean’s face that Griff’s charisma had affected her. What would be the point in warning her about Griffin?
    “You’re right, I suppose.” Barbara Jean sighed heavily.
    Griff squeezed her hand. “Of course I am.” He glanced at Nic. “Special Agent Baxter will speak to the nurse in charge of the ICU and make sure we are contacted if there’s any change in your sister’s condition.”
    Gritting her teeth, Nic managed a fake smile as she nodded her head in agreement. “I’ll speak to the nurse right now.” She gave Griff a blistering stare. He just couldn’t help himself, could he? To him, taking charge came as naturally as breathing. In the past, the FBI had cautioned family members about cooperating with any private agency, including the Powell Agency, but legally, the bureau’s hands were tied.
    At one-fifty in the afternoon, the cafeteria wasn’t crowded, so it was easy enough to find seating. Griff chose an isolated table in the back of the dining area and parked Barbara Jean’s wheelchair so that she was not near a window and her back was to a side wall. Nic understood his reasoning. If Gale Ann’s attacker had any idea that Barbara Jean had seen him and could possibly identify him, her life was in grave danger. Of course, she hadn’t said that she could ID the man, although she had admitted that she’d caught a glimpse of him as he was coming down the