It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the inmate talking to her, helping her with the book. But that in no way meant she had any liking for him. Though Flynt had been incarcerated by the time her grandmother had even learned how to use the computer Sam had given her, he was just like the men who’d stolen everything the elderly woman had. She detested him, as she detested all who preyed on the weak and vulnerable.

That didn’t mean she wouldn’t use him, or help the FBI use him, if it meant stopping a monster. “I can call his attorney or the prison directly. The sooner, the better, I’d imagine.”

“Forget it. You’ve been dragged far enough into this.”

“I volunteered.”

“It’s not happening, Sam.”

“I am telling you, Flynt will not give you the time of day,” she insisted. “He might not even talk to me if you’re in the room, but I’m about the only shot you’ve got with him.”

His lips compressed tightly, as if he’d said all he was going to say. But he didn’t open the door and usher her out to silently announce his decision was final. Instead, he stayed in his seat, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Obviously thinking.

Reconsidering? Sam remained quiet, waiting for him to realize her idea was a good one. He was a smart man; he’d see the sense in it.

She couldn’t stay entirely still for long, however. The bitterly cold night had been held at bay, though not defeated, by the weak heater. Now, with the engine turned off, the frigid air began to sift through the closed windows. She could already see her breath in front of her face, and the tip of her nose felt like an ice cube. Shivering, she wrapped her coat more tightly around herself, crossing her arms and tucking her hands beneath them for warmth.

He noticed. Without a word, Alec restarted the car, another sign he wasn’t going to just shove her out and ignore her offer.

To her surprise, though, he went a step further. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his overcoat. He had thrown it there when they had gotten in, obviously having a little lava in his blood. Without a word, he tugged it up front, reached into the pockets, and pulled out a pair of leather gloves. Not even looking over, he tossed them onto her lap, still silent, still considering.

Sam couldn’t have spoken either, even if she wanted to. Her breath had lodged in her throat. She was so taken aback, she didn’t know how to react. Staring at the gloves, she studied them mutely, not even aware moisture had risen in her eyes until she felt a tear on her cheek.

In the entire four years she had been married, her ex had never done something as thoughtful as worrying about whether her hands were cold. One of their first fights, in fact, had started because she’d pulled a pair of his cashmere socks on her cold feet one morning when she couldn’t find her slippers.

Simple courtesy had been beyond Samuel Dalton Jr., who’d been raised with such a big silver spoon in his mouth he hadn’t even needed the bowl.

To Alec Lambert, the thoughtful gesture had been second nature. And it touched her the way Samuel’s diamonds and huge bouquets of roses never had. She’d known this man for only a couple of days, but already she had begun to wonder if his entry into her life was going to leave her changed forever.

Maybe. If only by making her hold out for a man who gave a damn if her hands were cold. Or her feet.

He finally broke the silence. “It’s a bad idea.”

Still touched by the simple kindness, she didn’t respond.

“You should forget all about this day.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” She slid her hands into the gloves, her gaze locked on them, fearful her eyes might still be glassy. “For all we know, your suspect posted a response to me in the hour we’ve been on the road.”

“Hell,” he muttered, as if he had been hoping she could go back inside her apartment and be free of the whole situation. She suspected part of him wouldn’t mind that, even though the other part, the professional FBI agent, had to be anxious for Darwin to crawl out of the woodwork.

He rubbed at his eyes, then asked, “You have an iPhone, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Faster than waiting to hook your system back up.”

That was true. It was also true, however, that Alec seemed to want to avoid going inside.

Retrieving the phone, she got online and checked her own blog. Tension rolled off him, mingling with her own, and it seemed to take an eternity to scroll down through the pages of comments before finally reaching the end.

“Nothing,” she said with a relieved sigh.

“And there might never be.”

“Maybe not. But maybe there will. Frankly, if I’ve got a serial killer interested in me, I’d rather stick with you and your people.”

A low growl of frustration was his only response.

“I know I’m only a civilian…”

A piercing stare burned the rest of her words out of her mouth. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he visually devoured her hair, her eyes, her face, her mouth. His voice shaking with emotion, he snapped, “Damn it, Sam, don’t you get it? I don’t want to think about this bastard even knowing you exist.”

He might have intended to sound like an FBI agent. But the look in his eyes and the barely restrained anger said he was talking as a man.

The look made it clear her interest was fully reciprocated.

The anger told her the rest: He was afraid for her.

Sam said nothing, letting the reality of the situation wash over her, filling in the answers to the questions she’d been asking herself since they’d left D.C.

Yes, he’d noticed more about her than just that she was female. Yes, he’d realized something was happening between them. Yes, the attraction was mutual.

No, he wasn’t thrilled about it. No, he didn’t know what to do about it.

No, neither did she.

She lifted a gloved hand, not even knowing why. To reach for the door handle? Or to cup his cheek and lean close enough to kiss the mouth she’d been wondering about since the minute he’d shown up at her door? One hint, one movement from him would tell her which.

He stared at her, not leaning closer, but not pulling away, either. Equally as drawn. Equally as unsure.

Tension flooded the car. Shake his hand? Or dive onto his lap?

Suddenly a horn blew. They both flinched. Sam’s hand dropped instinctively, and Alec jerked back, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if he wanted to clear it of crazy thoughts.

She should be grateful. She had been about to do something that could have left her feeling very foolish had he rejected her. Still, she couldn’t muster up much gratitude. Only a sad sort of what-if.

A minute went by. Then another. Until Alec finally broke the silence, his voice throaty and low. “It’s been less than three days.”

She didn’t feign misunderstanding. He was talking about how long they had known each other. “I know.”

“You should stay as far away from me-from this ugliness-as possible.”

“That’s not going to happen,” she replied matter-of factly. “Like I said, I’m in this.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Are we still talking about the case?”

“Yes. No.” He thrust a frustrated hand through his hair, already tousled from their long day, looking as completely unsure as she felt. “Hell.”

Seeing his frustration, Sam regretted pushing him. Heaven knew he had a lot more on his plate than worrying about the feelings of a wound-licking divorcée he’d just met.

The timing was bad and she knew it, but she still wanted Alec Lambert. Wanted him to be the one to awaken her from her year of icy exile. Nothing serious, nothing permanent, just one incredibly sexy man around for a little while. And frankly, he was worth waiting for. Holding off until the ugliness surrounding them was taken care of didn’t seem like too much of a sacrifice if she got what she wanted.