Shuffling to her bedroom, she quickly stripped down and put on a t-shirt and boxers before settling on the bed. With a sigh of resignation, she dialed the hospital. Her father was full of cheer. “Lindsey, where the hell have you been?” he demanded.

“I work for a living, remember?” she shot back, feeling defensive.

“I tried the office,” he stated.

She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Building a case is often in the field, you know that. Do I now have a curfew, Daddy?”

He grunted and then paused. “Look about today . . .” His voice trailed off. Lindsey knew how hard it was for him to apologize. That was as close as it got.

Lindsey softened. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I hope you will forgive me for talking to you like I did. I just need Mark’s help.”

“I’ll let him stay, but I warn you he is not to be trusted,” he retorted. “In fact, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and bed you to get the firm.”

“Daddy!” Lindsey gasped indignantly. Her father never spoke of such things. The fact that Mark had, in fact, already been in her bed only made the statement more raw and hard to swallow.

“He wanted the firm, and I’m sure he still does. He has a reputation for getting what he wants, no matter what it takes.”

Trying to ignore the warning bells in her head, she defended Mark. “He told me he doesn’t want the firm anymore.”

“Of course he did. He has to play things just right to get me to cooperate.”

She mulled over his words, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. “Look Daddy, you thought a lot of Mark for a long time. Ease up on him,” she pleaded, and then added, “please? We both need him right now.”

He grunted. “Just be careful. I hate being stuck in the bed like some kind of invalid, not able to handle things.”

“I know you do,” she said with understanding in her voice. “I wish I could make things different for you. But you’re tough and you’ll make it through this. We both will.”

“I will, and don’t you forget it,” he ordered.

Lindsey smiled into the phone. She had definitely gotten her stubbornness from her father. “I won’t, Daddy; just make sure you don’t. Now get some rest.”

Lindsey’s smile was gone the minute she hung up the phone. Sitting on the edge of her bed, unmoving she replayed the conversation. Was she blinded by her attraction to Mark? Maybe he really did want the firm and she had given him the perfect chance to take it.

It was hard to be objective. The things she felt for Mark . . . things. What things? She hardly knew the man. Yet she felt as if she had known him a lifetime. Their sexual chemistry was nothing shy of exceptional. An added plus for Mark if he really was just using her. Like getting his cake and eating it too. She squeezed her eyes shut. The thought of Mark using her hurt far more than she wanted it to.

She needed to get some distance from what she felt for him.

When she finally settled under the covers, sleep was impossible. Eyes open or shut, her mind danced with pictures of Mark. His betrayal would be the ultimate pain. She had spent years getting her life under an iron thumb. Control, it seemed, had flown straight out the window. Mark had taken it from her as easily as stealing candy from a baby.

Now she had to decide how much she was willing to risk of herself where Mark was concerned.

* * * * *

Mark tipped back a long neck beer, and took a long swallow. Royce sat beside him, a smart enough guy to let him brood a while before asking questions. They’d met on business. Mark had been defending a client falsely accused of international terrorism. Royce had been with the FBI then, and it had been him who finally made the prosecutors see the light—they had the wrong guy.

“I can’t believe you’re back at Paxton, man,” Royce said, shaking his head. “Should I wait until you down another beer before I ask why?”

Mark smiled wearily. “I’d say two more beers, because I still need an answer myself.”

“Sounds like you need yourself a nice little female distraction. Too much work and no play is bad for the heart.” He nodded towards an attractive blond at a nearby table. “Chelsea is always asking about you, man, and I can tell you first-hand she has a very nice way of offering comfort.” He paused to take a drink of his beer and then added, “Commitment-free.”

Mark looked at the voluptuous blond who once would have had him licking his lips, and realized with surprise he no longer wanted her. He turned away from her and flagged the bartender, ready for another beer. Maybe then Lindsey would stop messing with his head.

“What do you say?” Royce asked after Mark ordered them both another drink. “A little loving on your mind?”

“Nope. Not tonight.”

Royce raised a brow. “Ah,” he said with understanding. “I sense woman troubles. Want to talk?”

Mark shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Royce smiled. “Since I have the good fortune of remaining unattached, I have all night.” He let his gaze linger on Mark a long moment. “Who is she, man?”

Mark sighed as he allowed his fingers to drum against the bar. “Paxton’s daughter.”

A scuffle erupted across the bar. Two drunks were shoving each other. Royce shoved his barstool back, and straightened to his full height of six foot four. Mark already knew what was coming, but he twisted in his seat to watch the show.

“Hey,” Royce bellowed as he stormed towards the two men, who had no idea what was in store for them. No one caused trouble with Royce around. Mark smiled. Royce’s broad shoulders were stiff with tension as he stopped in front of the two men.

“Hey,” he blurted again. Both men stopped arguing and looked up at Royce. Up being the operative word, because neither of them were over five foot ten.

The looks on the two men’s faces—as if they were about to be stomped by the Jolly Green Giant—launched Mark into a burst of laughter. Mark took a long slug of his beer and prepared to enjoy the show. Several minutes later, Royce returned to the bar, the general peace of the bar restored. He slid onto the barstool and offered Mark a grin. Mark shook his head in a combination of disbelief and amusement.

The bartender slid a cold beer in front of Royce as a reward for his actions. Royce tipped back the bottle. After making a sound of satisfaction, he fixed Mark in a watchful gaze. “Now, where were we?”

Mark sighed as reality slipped back into view. “Paxton’s daughter.”

Royce’s eyes went huge. “Didn’t expect that one, I must say. So what exactly are we talking about here?”

He spent the next hour telling Royce the entire story from the day Lindsey showed up on his doorstep. By the time he left the bar, he felt better for voicing his feelings, but no less confused. Avoidance seemed his only strategy. With Lindsey there could be nothing personal until Paxton was behind him. Then and only then could he and Lindsey look objectively at their feelings for one another. And although Royce had offered to help with their investigation, Mark had declined his offer. Royce was as big a control freak as he was, and that on top of dealing with Lindsey, it was just too much to contemplate. No, he would deal with this on his own.

* * * * *

Lindsey woke the next morning in a dark mood.

After tossing and turning the entire night, she felt irritable, and more than a little edgy. Every time she’d managed to slip into sleep, the phone would ring. Three separate times she had received hang-up calls. It had gotten downright creepy.

The fact that she had woken not once, but twice, with the same horrid nightmare hadn’t helped matters. Hazy memories of the dream filled her thoughts. Replaying it over and over in her head, she tried to make sense of the dark images. Just like before, someone had been chasing her, and she had been trying to get to Mark. She wondered at the significance of Mark in the dreams. Was it about the case, or about her life?