 
**The Reluctant Bodyguard**

By Suzy C. Dickens

Copyright (C)2006 by Suzy C. Dickens

Published 2017 by Suzy C. Dickens

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and places are fiction from the authors imagination. Any similarity of persons or events are purely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's hard work.
**Table of Contents**

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

**Dedication**

_To my mother; the best mom ever,_

_and a very special person. I never_

_knew anyone with more grace, or_

_love for her children. She was so_

_excited about this book, and_

_talked over the title with me._

_Thank you, Mom. I love you,_

_and know that you are_

_looking down with pride._

**Acknowledgment**

Writing is not as glamorous as people might imagine. And, neither is being married to a writer. There are times when some of us stay up all night, furiously writing, or when we might not get properly dressed all day while our characters solve their mysteries, or fall in love, and when we need someone to read the 4th chapter . . . again.

My husband is married to a writer. He has slept with the light on through my writing marathons, listened to whole chapters and books, more than once, to hear slight changes, and has entire conversations about people who don't exist, other than in my books and imagination. He gives me honest opinions, and excellent suggestions. But, most of all, he just lets me be me; always encouraging me in anything that I want to do, and I am so grateful.

Thank you, Robert. I love you more than anything, even chocolate.

**Chapter 1**

Brad's unsuspecting client **** looked completely out of place. It was a nippy November day in Northern California, and she was wearing a tee-shirt that named a concert across the front, and cutoffs.

Golden blonde, she was sitting cross-legged on a divan and making sweeping, curved lines on a sketchpad. Around her were a variety of lush, green plants, a bubbling aquarium with tiny, multicolored fish darting through it and, along one wall, a long flight cage of colorful red, blue, and orange finches singing quiet, complicated songs.

The air in the rest of the house was about average for the time of year, he'd noticed, maybe even a little on the cool side, but in this room it was almost summer-like, without actually being hot or stuffy. And she was dressed for it.

Blonde-haired _and_ blue-eyed, he noted when she looked up from her work to hug her brother and extend a cool hand to him. That was a bad sign. Everything about Saffron was so stereotypically Californian, that he was afraid that she might not think much past malls, granola, and surfing. Saffron. As in, Donovan's song: Mellow Yellow. Could it get any flakier than that? On the other hand, if she _was_ an airhead, maybe this would be an easy assignment after all.

The only part that disconcerted him, was how attractive she was. He would be staying alone with her, and he knew that pretty women were a liability. Not with him, of course; he had absolute self-control. Just, in general. They tended, from his personal observations, to think differently than their plainer sisters.

However, he believed in this assignment, and would succeed in it, he thought, flexing a jaw muscle grimly. Even if it meant dealing with a pretty, California-blonde airhead.

Her brother, Dave, had gotten in touch with him through a friend because he was concerned about his sister's well-being. It seemed that he was receiving threats from people associated with his position as an upper-level executive in a small, but up-coming company, and that the most recent threats had included his family. That meant his sister, being the only close family that Dave had.

Whoever was making the threats had proven that they knew who and where she was by providing him with her name and address. Her brother, currently having to work 3,000 miles from home, was beside himself with worry. And, Brad didn't blame him. After reading the threats for himself, he was concerned as well.

The problem with being Dave's sister's personal bodyguard until the FBI could track down and eliminate the threat, was that she was not to know that she had a bodyguard. Dave had been insistent on that point. No matter what, his sister could not know Brad's true purpose for being there.

He'd said that she would never agree to it if she was told that she was being given a protector, but that she had a kind heart. If he told her that he had a friend who needed a place to stay and relax for a while, especially over the holidays, she would gladly put him up in her home.

There had been no arguing the point with him, though he'd tried. Dave was willing to pay whatever it took to keep his sister safe, and recognizing the danger that she was in, Brad had agreed to take the job, regardless of his misgivings. Besides, he was not nearly as convinced as Dave that his sister would take in a perfect stranger. That she might, was a scary thought in itself.

Some people just didn't live in the real world, he thought. From what he'd seen of it, which had been far too much of the dark side of man, the world was a pit of human evil, and every person would be better off if they would recognize and acknowledge that fact so that they could take steps to ensure their own safety, and that of the people they loved, as they went about their daily lives. Steps which did _Not_ **** include letting strangers into their homes, yes let to stay with them.

At least he didn't look the part of a bodyguard, which he only did because it paid well. And, because he was good at it.

He had high-ranking belts in several martial art styles, was fit, well versed in the use of various weapons, had elevated observational skills, the intensity and will to do the job at hand, and was an expert in defensive driving. He recognized these facts without being egotistical. It was what it was. It was who he was.

* * *

Saffron was thrilled to see Dave. She'd missed seeing him as often as she was used to, since his job had taken him so far afield. At least he was only on the east coast temporarily, until spring, and she reminded herself of that fact whenever she missed him.

She adored her brother, and was closer to him than many people were to their siblings, since she'd practically raised him. She would do just about anything for him. So, when he'd called and mentioned that he had a friend who really needed to get away for a while for his health's sake, and might he stay in her relaxing home, she had been happy to agree. He so infrequently asked anything of her. Besides, why not? The poor man was suffering from physical and mental exhaustion, according to Dave, with nowhere to go. At the holidays.

Looking at Brad Smith now, however, it was hard to believe that he was run down at all. She knew that looks could be deceiving, but he was as healthy and robust looking, as any specimen of the male gender that she'd ever seen. Tall, with wavy chestnut hair worn just a little on the long side, and surprisingly green eyes, it looked like Mr. Smith got plenty of sunshine, and exercise. And, ate right. His body appeared, without her staring, of course, to be well conditioned. Not at all the gaunt, sallow man that she'd expected.

Actually, he was darned attractive. Handsome enough to be a model, she thought, but not in a 'pretty boy' sense. Brad Smith had enough ruggedness about his features to keep him out of that class. He was all man, and yet she had been surprised when her heart had fluttered when she'd first looked up to find those intense green eyes looking back at her.

Well, if he was rundown and stressed, even if it didn't show on his face, then she would do her best to provide a restorative environment for him, she decided, folding closed her sketch pad.

* * *

Okay, so he'd been wrong. It seemed that Saffron _had_ accepted him at face value, and while Brad was glad that her brother knew her well enough to have known that would be the case, he now knew for certain that she was too trusting for her own good.

With people who were threatening to harm her on the loose, and possibly close by, it also meant that he couldn't let her out of his sight for a minute. Not when she left the house, at any rate. And, from the sound of what she was telling her brother about her plans for the next few weeks leading up to Christmas, that would mean a lot of places to convince her that he should be tagging along. That would almost certainly prove to be more challenging than having gotten his foot in the door.

After everyone had exchanged greetings, Saffron had led them into the room that he was to stay in, then headed into the kitchen with instructions for them to meet her there when they were ready.

"What do you think?" Dave asked, once she'd left them to freshen up after their trip.

"I'll do it," Brad told him, accepting the retainer check that they'd agreed on.

The rest would be paid upon the successful completion of the job, something that Brad fully intended on being able to collect on, and not because he needed the money, but because he had no intention of allowing any harm to come to Dave's overly trusting sister.

* * *

When they re-joined the stereotypical California girl in her warm, inviting kitchen, she was lining up ingredients on the counter.

"What's for dinner, sis?" Dave asked, eagerly rubbing his palms together and peering into the cabinets for a snack.

Brad almost groaned aloud when he saw what was in those cabinets, confirming one of his fears. What wasn't housed in generic glass bottles and jars in the well-organized looking cupboards, had the words 'organic' or 'natural' on the containers. He'd hoped that he wasn't going to have to live on wheat germ covered tofu while he was here. If so, he'd need to sneak some contraband food into his room to keep from starving.

He'd once had a lady friend who'd touted the benefits of a natural diet to him several years ago, and regardless of what she'd served, it had all tasted like cardboard . . . or worse. He shuddered inwardly.

"Pizza," she answered, working as she spoke, her movements graceful and competent. "I know how much you love it, and I thought that it would be a safe choice until I could find out what types of foods you like, Mr. Smith," she said, deftly including him in the conversation. "I hope that you like pizza." She paused, a questioning look on her pretty face.

"Who doesn't like pizza?" he hedged, smiling, and wondered how bad cardboard-pizza would taste.

An hour later, however, Brad was eating a delicious homemade pizza with an exceptional salad on the side. And he wasn't even a 'salad kind of guy' normally. Heck, he was even having root beer with his dinner. It was one of his favorite drinks with pizza, and this one was, apparently, a natural root beer without preservatives or corn syrup. Whatever. He didn't have preferences in those areas. Good taste was good taste. He was surprised, and pleased, to be eating a darned good meal, and his outlook brightened considerably. Things were looking up. Eating well on assignment was a perk that he appreciated.

Further, he was enjoying the company. Saffron and Dave had been engaged in lively, interesting conversation since dinner had begun. While they'd been careful to make sure to involve him whenever they could, he'd just as much enjoyed listening to them discuss, banter, and joke with one another. It had begun to give him a sense of who they were, especially Saffron. Knowing as much as possible about a client was essential to him doing his best job. He'd been brought in cold, so this was helpful.

Saffron kept up her end of the conversation, and he learned that she was both quick-witted, and intelligent. He supposed that being naive, and a California girl, didn't have to be a handicap, but he was still reserving judgment.

**Chapter 2**

Having only caught a few winks during his flight the previous day, Brad had found the comfortable bed in his room welcome, once Dave left to catch a late flight back to where he worked. He'd even entertained the idea of sleeping in, at least until light, he thought sarcastically, burying his head deeper into his pillows. But it did nothing to drown out the low, but distinctive, sound of Christmas carols floating in to him, or the smell of breakfast wafting under his door.

Sighing deeply, he sat up. Whatever he'd been expecting this morning, it hadn't been the festive sounds of the holidays.

Deciding that the sooner he jumped into a hot shower, the sooner he could find a mug of strong, black coffee to help him feel more human, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Getting up without wasting time, he crossed the room and stepped out into the hall.

He heard the air leave his hostess-client as soon as he collided with her. Reaching out automatically, he saved her from stumbling back more than a step, but that move brought her up against him. For a moment, he tried to catch his breath. It wasn't like him to react so strongly to something so insignificant, though a man would have to be made of stone not to have some reaction to the soft, warm curves suddenly pressed up against him.

"Sorry," he apologized quickly.

When his California-girl client tilted her head up and looked at him, an involuntary shiver ran through his body. He was glad that she stepped back almost immediately.

"You're cold," she observed. "It's no wonder; it's chilly this morning," she said, clearing her throat and retreating two more steps. "That's why I came by," she continued, reaching for the thermostat and turning it up. "I didn't think that you'd be up just yet, after your long day yesterday." She licked her lips a little nervously, and he wished that she wouldn't.

"I smelled something good cooking," he offered, not making reference to the singing that he'd heard along with the Christmas music, "and decided to grab a shower before looking for some caffeine."

If she wanted to think that his shiver had been from cold, all the better. Right now, his choices were simple. Ignore the feelings coursing through him and get to the shower, which he now doubted that he'd take hot, or do something that would probably get him kicked out of her house. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but he didn't want to stand there breathing in her subtle, delicious fragrance another moment.

"Excuse me," he said simply, then turned and headed to the shower. _Real smooth, Brad._

Of all the things. What he didn't need to muddle this job was sexual tension, he thought, stepping under the stream of blessedly cold water.

* * *

Saffron had been startled when her guest had barreled out of his room just as she was getting ready to turn up the heat.

Warming the house before people rose was something that her mother had done for she and Brad on chilly mornings, and she had always felt that it started the day on a good note.

What she hadn't expected, was for him to already be up and about, nor for their timing to be so perfect that he would come out of the door when she was practically on top of it. What were the chances?

Worse, what were the chances of her feeling an attraction to the man? She was very careful when in came to men, and didn't appreciate her reaction to being slammed into this especially attractive and well-muscled one.

He'd been wearing masculine, dark blue pajama bottoms, manly slippers . . . and nothing else. Not only had she been able to feel, and appreciate, that male hardness along the entire length of her body, but he had looked as good as he'd felt.

She had been able to see the outline of a clearly defined hard body beneath slightly tanned, smooth skin. His chest was neither overly hairy, nor smooth, and she had enjoyed the feel of the slight crinkliness of it under her cheek when he'd pulled her to him to keep her from falling.

Oh, how she'd wanted to run her hands along that length of smooth, well-muscled male stomach, over his ribs, chest, shoulders, and well, never mind. She had no business even thinking it, she reminded herself, flushed from just the thought of what she'd wanted to do.

Once she'd stepped back from him, she'd then found herself trying not to stare at the line of dark hair running from his belly button, to somewhere beneath the band of his pajama bottoms. It was mesmerizing, and it had taken all of her will power to look away.

She'd obviously been taken off guard, she reasoned, heading back to the sanctuary of her kitchen, but she wouldn't let it happen again. From now on, she would be more careful. A far better plan than mooning over some guy who would be gone in a few weeks, she thought, pinching leaves from her potted herbs, and adding them to the food.

Turning up the Christmas music a click to distract herself from her thoughts, she went back to cooking. Two of her favorite things were Christmas and cooking. That she wanted to make a good impression on her guest with a special breakfast was a thought that she quickly squelched as she beat local, organic eggs with extra vigor.

* * *

By the time that Brad came in, stopping to lean on the wall frame to the kitchen, breakfast was ready. He had her brother's timing when it came to food she thought, amused. Her good humor, never far away according to her friends, had been restored as she had cooked.

"May I help?"

He'd not been there one full day, and she already found herself looking forward to the soft, low way that he had of talking when he spoke to her. His voice was like a soft caress, she'd discovered, and then wondered if she'd kept to herself, man-wise, too much lately. She'd revisit that thought later, she decided.

On top of it, he looked devastating in a cocoa shirt and well broken in, form-fitting jeans. His hair, still damp from the shower, wasn't cooperating, creating very sexy little curls here and there. And his scent. My goodness, if someone could just bottle that mix of masculinity, clean soap, fresh clothes, and something uniquely delicious to him alone, they could ask their price.

"Thanks, yes, if you would just carry these platters to the table..."

In a few minutes they were sitting at the table, and it felt nothing like it had when her brother had been there the evening before. It felt much cozier. Almost intimate.

* * *

Brad had guessed, from the smells of breakfast that he'd caught before coming in, that this woman's breakfasts were no more like the cardboard "health food" that he'd previously been exposed to than her pizzas.

To his nose's credit he found, under the platter covers, a delicious looking and smelling omelet, and cubed potatoes - browned with little pieces of onion, and red and green bell peppers. There was also a pitcher filled with what he'd swear was freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee that wasn't just hot and strong, but exceptional in every way.

"Do you always eat like this?" he asked between bites of some of the best breakfast that he'd had in a long time.

"They say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day," she quipped. He liked her light-hearted manner.

"But," she added, chuckling, "no, I don't often have this type of breakfast for myself. Just when I'm lucky enough to have company."

"I feel honored, then, to be your guest," Brad said, taking another bite of omelet perfection. "This is delicious."

To his delight, she actually blushed at that.

"Thank you. I like to cook for people who enjoy eating."

"Which would be anyone who's ever tasted your cooking," he assured her truthfully, savoring browned potatoes.

A short while later, Brad inhaled the scent of the wonderfully aromatic coffee before taking another swallow of the smooth brew, then sat back full, and satisfied. Well, in some ways satisfied, he thought, looking at Saffron's rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes. He would have found something nice to say just to see her smile at him, he thought, even if the food had been inedible. But in this case, he hadn't exaggerated a single word.

"What kind of coffee is this?" he asked.

"Thanksgiving." At his puzzled look she smiled again.

"The brand, not the holiday. The company is in Fort Bragg, on the coast. They have all types of roasts and blends, including this one, which is a blend made especially for a local market. I think that it's the best tasting coffee around, and it's also organic, free-trade, and shade grown. Win-win-win."

He had to admit, she had a way of combining great taste with her social and environmental views.

"I think I'll buy some to take home with me, if you'll point me to it."

"I'll do one better," she said, dabbing her mouth daintily with her napkin and pushing back her chair, "I'll take you there, if you like. I have to shop soon anyway. That way, I can show you the exact blend that you drank"

He gave her a brilliant smile of encouragement which, he realized, surprised, took no effort at all. It was genuine. "That's better yet. One car, less exhaust."

He knew that it was a cheap shot, considering her environmentalist bent, but he felt no guilt. Whatever it took to stick with his new client, and keep her safe. Besides, he wasn't insensitive to the issues of pollution, and actually did believe in carpooling.

* * *

Saffron felt off balance. When Brad had accepted her offer of a ride to the health food store, his smile had sent a tingling jolt all the way through her. It was instantaneous, like someone flipping on a large watt bulb. He had beautiful, straight, white teeth which were set off by his slight tan, but his teeth weren't what had almost made her take a step back. It was what that gorgeous smile did to his face and eyes.

She knew right then that he was a heart breaker with that irresistible smile, and probably always had been. She could almost picture him as a little boy, unintentionally charming everyone that he met. Or, perhaps, not so unintentionally . . . She'd bet good money that no one denied him anything when he smiled that lopsided, very sexy smile of his.

And his eyes? Unbelievable. She felt transfixed by them. She'd read about such things in novels, but had always just assumed that it was artistic license and imagination on the author's part, creating an ideal that didn't really exist. Apparently, they'd experienced something which, until just now, she hadn't.

Get a grip, she warned herself, suddenly becoming very busy with removing dishes from the table. He'd gotten up to help her, but she had told him no. Perhaps just a little too quickly, so she made herself look back at him with what she hoped was a calm and pleasant look on her face, and told him to enjoy some more coffee, that she'd just be a minute.

Once again in her kitchen, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the counter for support. How was she going to get through this visit? Hopefully, he wouldn't grace her with that warm, intimate-feeling smile very often.

* * *

"There's some homemade vegetable soup in the 'fridge, along with cheese and bread for grilled cheese if you'd like it and, of course, leftover pizza. You're welcome to anything that you can find."

Saffron kept talking as she moved about, speaking up from the hallway until she came back into the living room with her purse, and a manila envelope, in hand.

"And, of course, there's the T.V.," she gestured toward the television, ". . . books, magazines, and in the cabinet over there," she inclined her head in the direction of a brown piece of furniture, ". . . games. Cards, jigsaw puzzles, puzzle books. I won't be gone all that long." She went over to some papers and rifled through them, pulling out a couple, which she added to her envelope.

Brad had become instantly alert when she'd begun her helpful speech, and saw her safety slipping through his fingers. Where was she going, and how had this happened? Not long ago they were having a companionable breakfast with him assuming that they were going shopping, and suddenly she was heading out the door. Without him.

She hadn't actually said that she was shopping this morning, he realized, replaying the conversation back in his mind quickly, just that she had to shop 'soon.' _Uh oh, not good,_ he thought.

**Chapter 3**

"Big plans?" he asked, forcing nonchalance.

"Oh, just a get-together to plan our Christmas caroling. We do it every year."

"Christmas caroling? Do you need an extra voice? I was afraid that I'd miss it this year," he lied smoothly.

Generally, his buddies offered incentives for him not to sing with the radio. He sure as heck had never attempted a rousing holiday chorus. Had never wanted to. Give him a hot drink and a roaring fireplace any day.

"Really?"

At least she'd stopped what she was doing for a moment. Now she was looking at him in a curious way that he wasn't sure that he liked. As though she felt sorry for him. Darn. He hated complications.

* * *

How could she have already forgotten why he was here? He just seemed so...fit. She'd found it easy to forget that the poor man was here to recover from, well, _something_. She couldn't deny him the enjoyment of singing in the choir, if that would make him happy. The more the merrier anyway. The only thing was, that she'd been looking forward to a little space from him. He made her feel as if a room became too small, somehow, just by him being in it. Well, there was no use in thinking about it. He was coming along, and that was that.

"We'd be happy to have you." She hoped that she sounded more enthusiastic and sincere than she felt.

The warm smile that he returned, different from the dazzling one earlier, still put attractive little crinkles at the corners of his deep green eyes. Seeing that singing would make him happy was reward in itself for her choice. _Gads, the man is attractive, though!_

It took him only a moment to walk into his room and back. Having a brother, she knew how little time males tended to need to get out the door, so she wasn't surprised at how quick he'd been.

Scooping up her keys, and slinging her favorite purse's strap over her shoulder, she stepped outside with her guest gallantly holding the screen for her as she locked the front door. Air, she definitely needed more air, she thought, stepping back as innocently as she could, then turned and headed toward her car, trying to avoid it looking as though she was running away from him.

By the time that they were actually in the car and buckled up, the situation hadn't improved. If anything, it had degraded. She felt self-conscious with this man sitting next to her in such close confines . . . something that she'd not experienced since her school days.

He filled the space with his wide shoulders and male bulk even more than he had in the house. And that scent. For pity's sake, was she so lacking in male company that the first whiff of a man, albeit a very good smelling one, turned her brain to immediate mush? Obviously so. Rolling down her window to try and equalize the situation helped very little, she quickly learned.

She finally breathed a huge mental sigh of relief when they pulled up at the choir leader's house, after what seemed like a several hour drive. The clock in her dashboard read seven minutes. Obviously, how long seven minutes could feel was up to interpretation.

* * *

Talk about being on the spot. Brad couldn't believe the position that he'd gotten himself into. In many ways, it was tame compared to other situations that he'd managed to find himself in during the course of previous jobs. On the other hand, he was well and truly cornered. Pretty soon it would be 'put up or shut up' time. He decided that he'd rather be climbing a twelve foot wall. At night. With a pack of trained dogs waiting for him to fall.

The choral group were a mixed lot. Pleasantly plain moms who were dressed up for the meeting stood shoulder to shoulder with lawyers and doctors dressed down for the weekend. Soccer coaches and loggers mingled with people who sang for a living. Ages varied greatly from teenagers to gray-topped-oldies-but-goodies.

And now, after much discussion and paper shuffling, booklets had been handed out. They had the words to Christmas carols in them.

Brad didn't have anything against Christmas carols. In fact, he enjoyed them. Especially this morning when Saffron had sung them. The thought intruded, and he pushed it away with some effort. Why, he himself had been known to hum along...in the privacy of his own home. No sense in getting the neighborhood dogs started. But this was entirely different.

He'd decided to just move forward, as though it was something that he did all the time, and hoped that they wouldn't give him the boot. No sooner than he'd given in to the situation, though, then he saw the group breaking up.

Wandering over, he found Saffron talking to a woman who looked something like an Irish gypsy. She wore a flowing gown, and had long, deeply-waved red hair. What she didn't wear in make-up, she made up for in jewelry which tinkled, jingled, and jangled from her head to her feet.

"Oh, Brad, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Arlene. She's got a wonderful voice."

"Glad to meet you." Arlene had taken a step forward and extended her hand before he could.

"Likewise."

They talked for a couple of minutes, and he discovered that Arlene was sharp as a tack. When she excused herself, saying again how nice it was to meet him, he leaned toward Saffron.

"What happened to the rehearsal?"

"Oh, this isn't a rehearsal, it was just a meeting. We rehearse at a couple of people's homes between now and Christmas. We need to get you signed up before we leave, though. Tomorrow night it's at our place."

When Saffron said 'our place,' something stirred within' him. Something primal. He wasn't prone to strange stirrings, yet somehow, since he'd arrived, he'd experienced a series of them.

Listening to his hostess . . . he needed to practice calling her that, sing with her music this morning, sharing breakfast with her, and now hearing her refer to her home as theirs. Very odd. Maybe there was something wrong with eating health food after all.

That aside, he hadn't lucked out forever on singing, he'd only gotten a reprieve. Maybe he could find a way to practice a little before the rehearsal.

**Chapter 4**

It seemed to Brad that time sped by, and before he knew it the moment of truth was nearly upon him. He never did find a way to practice singing. It was what it was, he thought with a mental shrug, resigned to his fate.

"Everyone brings food?" he asked, continuing his conversation with his California-girl client as he followed her with bowls of dip for the buffet table.

"Yes," she replied, as she began arranging the table. "Since we don't hold rehearsals at everyone's house, it would otherwise mean that only a few people would be doing and buying everything. Besides," she added ruefully, wrinkling her pretty little nose, "whoever has it at their house has to clean, remember?"

He'd questioned her on that earlier, as she'd scrubbed what he'd considered to be a very clean house already; from top to bottom.

"Company means _extra_ cleaning," she'd explained as she'd passed by with a bucket of scrubbers, a mop, and other implements of germ destruction.

But, she'd made it smell even cleaner and fresher than before, he'd give her that. And everything that she'd used had been natural, just like her food. Vinegar, baking soda, and other safer ingredients did a surprisingly good job of cleaning, he discovered. To top it off, she'd added essential oils to her mop water and polishing oils. Very pleasant and very holiday-like, he thought, inhaling deeply. He needed to be careful, he was finding his hostesses __ style of living quite pleasant.

He hadn't slacked off, either, though. After convincing her that he'd felt up to it, since she thought that he was a mental and physical basket case, she'd accepted his offer to put the garlands, wreaths, and other decorations up on the porch and door.

She'd also explained, at one point, that half a dozen types of dip weren't too many for a crowd, as that type of snacking was popular.

One thing that he wasn't adverse to, was good food. So, after hanging the decorations, he'd wandered into the kitchen at the start of her marathon of dip making, and offered a hand. He didn't actually mind helping, in any case, but hey, if there was a taste in it for him here and there, all the better. She was a darned good cook, he'd learned. Besides, he had to keep an eye on her, didn't he? _Lame, Brad_ , he'd chastised himself unrepentantly.

They had spent the mid part of the afternoon amiably standing side by side with Saffron chopping tomatoes, onions, and peppers, grating fresh blocks of Parmesan cheese, and mixing spices. Brad was no stranger to food preparation at least. He wasn't a gourmet cook, but he didn't like to rely on someone else to feed him, either. One thing that he'd gotten good at over the years was chopping and mincing.

Usually it was for what was now coined 'man food,' such as his grilling specials, hearty sandwiches and Killer-Ass Stew. Maybe he ought to make some of his Killer-Ass Stew for Saffron one of these days, he thought, as he manhandled the homemade ranch dressing into smoothness for her. But he should probably change it's name...

In the end, there was a thick, mild salsa and a rich, smoky one for the tortilla chips that people were bringing. For the potato chips and crudites that others had signed up to provide, were an onion dip and ranch. Guacamole, the best that he'd ever had, bar none, were for dipping Arlene's taquitos in, and lastly, coming out of the oven soon, was an artichoke-Parmesan dip. He'd never had artichoke-Parmesan dip, but was looking forward to trying it.

After the colorful bowls were lined up along the dining room table, Saffron stood back so that she could see the whole table at once. She looked at it from different angles, head cocked, assessing. "Is it good?" she asked, turning her eyes to him.

"It's perfect," he answered quietly, only half meaning the table.

**Chapter 5**

The wind blew in with the guests, who were arriving in small groups. Obviously, a lot of Californian's believed in carpooling.

They came in stamping their feet and rubbing their hands together briskly, while they waited for Saffron to take their coats, which she deposited on the bed in her room.

Brad had noticed earlier, that Saffron didn't consider her brother's room a guestroom. Dave had made it his own, keeping clothes in the closets and drawers, tubes and containers of the brands of deodorant, shampoo, and toothpaste that he used on the shelves alongside books. Even a few pictures, awards, and such dotted the room. They say that you can never go home, but in Dave's case, it was pretty close when he visited his sister. Lucky dog.

The house was quickly filling up when three more people stamped up onto the porch.

"How awful kids can be," a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman said, frowning, and shaking her head as she pulled off bright holiday gloves and matching scarf. "Would you like us to help you to clean it up?" she asked, stopping mid-way through removing her coat.

Saffron looked confused, but Brad's radar was making the hairs stand up at the back of his neck. He immediately put himself casually between the ladies and the door. As he listened to what the woman was saying, the happy party-goers in the background became tuned down by his brain to the low buzz of summer insects.

"You haven't seen it yet?"

"No," Saffron said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Minny."

"Come on, I'll show you," the woman called Minny replied, shrugging back into her coat.

"Could you give us an idea of what it is?" Brad asked, insinuating himself more completely in front of the door.

He saw Minny's brows raise just a hair, and her eyes shift toward Saffron.

He knew that her mind was working in over-drive on what their relationship was, and he was sorry for that, but he had no intention of stepping aside and letting anyone go out that door without further information. That was just how things were. In full work mode now, he set his jaw and waited for the answer from Minny.

"Well, it's the snowman. Some awful kids have defaced it...." Her voice trailed off.

"How about if you don't go back out into the cold, but let Saffron take your coat while you warm up inside next to the fire."

Brad took a round container of some kind of food that she'd set on the entryway's low wall, and handed it to Saffron.

"You're busy with your guests," he said with a smile that he could barely muster, and which didn't reach his eyes. But, he put it on anyway, knowing how pushy he was being, and hoping that she wouldn't call him on it. "I'll check it out and see if I can fix it for you."

There was a long moment of hesitation during which Minny's eyes darted from one to the other, and Saffron looked at him carefully.

"That would be good, thanks," she finally said, and led Minny into the house after trading the Tupperware dish for her guest's coat. But not without one more backward glance at him. He gave her another insincere smile of encouragement, and as soon as he was certain that she wasn't coming back, he slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

* * *

Once outside, where the cold air hit him full on, making his breath instantly visible, Brad stepped to one side, out of the circle of porch light. Standing perfectly still, he barely breathed, and didn't hear anything other than what was out in the night with him.

A dog gave a volley of barks a few houses down. A car door slammed, followed by a baby's cry. An owl hooted, and something small, probably a rodent, moved in a bush close by. Other than that, he saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary.

After a few more long moments, he made his way to the snowman, skirting around the edges of the house and bushes to get there, rather than walking the few feet straight across the yard. And when he got to it, his mouth set into a firm line.

Someone had poked holes into the Styrofoam, and oozed a red substance from each hole. It looked like it had been shot, and it wasn't, he thought grimly, the work of kids. He had damn good instincts about things like this, and his gut told him that this was a warning from the people that he was here to protect Saffron from.

Fishing his knife from his jacket, he cut around the damage, pocketing the red pieces that he was removing, then cut and scraped at the long lines of dripping 'blood' until they were no longer evident. The snowman would never be the same, but if you didn't look at it closely, it was passable.

He knew that Minny would tell Saffron what she'd seen, but he'd needed to investigate it himself. And, he sure as heck wasn't laying odds on it being safe for his client to be out here.

Walking carefully around the area, he looked closely at the ground and surrounding bushes for footprints, or anything which didn't belong.

He was just about to stop looking, when something caught his eye. It was a scrap of paper clinging to a bush. Maybe nothing, but....

Squatting down to where the scrap clung, he picked it up gently between the very tips of two fingers at it's corner, and lifted it close to his face so that he could see it, even though he was at the edge of the yard lights.

It was a receipt from a shop which sold clothing and gift items from around the world.

Was it something left by the person who had marred the snowman, or was it just a stray bit of someone's life that had floated from their car, or escaped their trashcan? He didn't know, but he was going to try and find out.

**Chapter 6**

Saffron had been upset about the damage that 'kids' had done to her snowman, but hadn't focused on his behavior. And, despite everything, the evening had gone well after that.

Even the singing part hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. He'd figured out that he if he just hum-sang, and stood next to the loudest men there, his effort pretty much faded into obscurity.

Actually, while he kind of hated to admit it, he'd had fun. He could just hear himself now with his buddy's: _' Yeah, it was a fun evening. We sang Christmas carols, ate dip, and drank eggnog. Non-alcoholic.'_ But, the fact remained that he _had_ enjoyed himself. Even the hum-singing part.

This morning, Saffron had said that she'd needed some time to finish her drawings, and had sequestered herself in her drawing room.

So, Brad decided to make a run over to the One Earth Trading Company; the place that the receipt that he'd found had come from. He felt fairly confident that Saffron wasn't going to go anywhere until he got back, though he had taken his time getting out the door, a little torn on leaving anyway.

Some part of him was still worried about her being alone, even in a locked house, and he'd dithered until she had finally pushed him out the door gently, but firmly. She'd been trying to work, and he knew that he'd kept interrupting her with his excuses not to leave for another few minutes.

"I'll see you when you get back," she'd said pleasantly, as she'd inched him out the door.

* * *

_Poor man_ , Saffron had thought when she finally closed the door behind him. He really did have issues. Clearly he wanted to go out and do a little shopping, yet, he couldn't seem to bring himself to go.

Now, completely disturbed from what she'd been doing, or trying to do, she walked into the kitchen and put a piece of bread on a sandwich plate, and got a bowl down out of the cupboard. He was one big walking contradiction, she thought, taking a Haas avocado from a bag on the counter, and cutting it in half lengthwise.

On the one hand, he seemed super confident, in charge, and yes, if she were truthful, even a little arrogant. Even knowing that, she'd been a little surprised when he'd practically barred the door to prevent her from going out to look at her snowman, she remembered, as she mashed the avocado meat with a little more enthusiasm than she'd planned to. Her poor food seemed to be taking the brunt of the emotions that the man had been bringing out in her since he'd arrived.

She was sure that he had felt that he was being helpful, she conceded, spreading a thick layer of the mashed avocado onto her bread. She sprinkled on some alaea salt that a friend had brought her back from Maui, and gave a good squeeze of fresh lemon juice over the top of the whole. Still, she had to admit that his behavior had caused a knee jerk reaction that she'd almost been unable to ignore. Had there been no guests, they would have talked about it right then and there.

One bite of the rich, creamy-smooth, lemony, avocado flavor of her open-faced sandwich soothed the last of her ruffled feathers. She was immediately transported to the Southern California days of her childhood, where avocado sandwiches had been a summer staple, straight from their tree.

Ah well, she thought, taking another bite. On a scale of 1-10 it was a minus five now. Better to let sleeping dogs lie. He wouldn't be here much longer, anyway. And, it wasn't as though she was in any kind of a relationship with him. He was just a short term guest. Very short term. And why, she wondered, as she headed back to her work, did that thought depress her so much?

**Chapter 7**

When he got to the shop, Brad discovered a complication immediately. The teenage daughter of one of the ladies in the Christmas choir, and also a singer in it, was working at the front counter. Great, he thought. Now he was going to have to use kid gloves to ask his questions, in case she mentioned to Saffron that he'd been inquiring. He'd figured that there had to be a downside to small towns, and he had just found it.

"Hey! Brad, isn't it?"

Whatever happened to self-centered teens? __ he thought grumpily, becoming more convinced by the moment that this was now a wasted trip.

"Yes, good morning."

He wished that he could say that he remembered her name as well, but the truth was, he didn't, and she wasn't wearing a name tag.

"What do ya' need this morning?"

"I, uhm, just wanted to look around, thanks."

He'd told his hostess that he wanted to buy something, as an excuse, so he might as well walk through the shop to kill a little time.

Looking around he saw all manner of imported items from incense and tambourines to batik clothing. Not exactly his style. Oh well, he'd tried. He was just about to head out when he saw something colorful in a tube. Picking it up off the shelf, he took it to the front counter.

"What's this?" he asked the salesgirl.

"Oh, wow, except for a couple of regulars, no one ever looks at those. And now you're the second person in a week. It's a temporary body paint. We've got a couple of guys who mark their faces with it all the time, and a few partiers who do on certain weekends when they go to freak parties and stuff, but other than that...." she shrugged expansively.

_Careful_ , Brad warned himself, as he thought of ways to ask what he wanted to know.

"That's interesting," he said with a smile that he hoped conveyed friendly, cool, approachable, and non-threatening. "Was the other guy a...uh...person like me? Someone not from the area? Older, I mean?" he hurriedly added, "I wouldn't want to try this stuff out if I was going to be the only non...freak partier to do so." There, the ball was in her court.

"Oh no, you should be fine. The other guy was just visiting, like you. He was pretty old, like you, and...oh," the girl's ring covered hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes went very wide. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that you're old, but, but..."

Brad smiled encouragingly. "That's okay, you just meant someone older than yourself," he assured the teen.

"Exactly, but it sure wasn't meant the way it sounded. If I'd said that to my mom," she made a face, "she would've gotten some chocolate, and a glass of wine, and started looking at photo albums of the old days, when she was younger."

This time Brad hid his smile.

"Was his skin about my color?" he continued, while he had her off-guard, looking at his arm as if considering the merits of his skin color.

The girl - was it Shirley? - leaned a little toward him and examined his skin. "Nah," she said after a moment, popping a piece of chewing gum into her mouth, "he didn't have much color. Like he never went out during the day, ya' know?"

_Or,_ he thought, _like he was from a colder climate._

"Oh, well, what about his hair? Does my hair or eye color come close to his? I really want to look in place if I try this stuff."

She didn't hesitate. "His hair was buzz cut, there wasn't much left of it to look at, but it was lighter than yours, and no, his eyes were not the same at all, they were a kinda'....well, sickly brown."

"Sickly brown?"

"Yeah, kinda' unattractive, ya' know?" She wasn't exactly smacking her gum, but close. "Not a pretty brown, and kinda' light. But really, I think you should just go for it."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Live a little."

There was no way to learn about the man's clothing, height, and weight without raising suspicion, so he looked at Shirley, he was sure that was her name now, with a serious expression.

"I think I'll take your advice," he said, putting the tube on the counter.

* * *

Saffron worked on her drawing for a while, but discovered that she couldn't concentrate. Somewhat exasperated, she wandered back out into the kitchen and had a tangerine. She loved the short but wonderful season that tangerines were available. It hit the spot but, she discovered, did nothing to help her tap back into her inner-muse. Something was distracting her, and after the third time that green eyes intruded into her thoughts, she knew exactly what, or rather _who,_ it was.

Giving up her drawing for the day, she set down her pad and pencils, and decided to find something else that was useful to do.

"Fresh seed and water coming up in a little while," she told the finches when they gave her their full attention. Bastion, one of her Cordon Bleu's, answered her, as he always did. Sometimes it seemed to her as if he understood every word that she said, and sometimes she wasn't sure that he didn't. He was an especially friendly and intelligent little guy.

Maybe she should bring out the Christmas ornaments this afternoon? They were in the shed, and she had the free time.

But when she stepped out of the front door to get the mail, she changed her mind. The sky, still sunny and blue in places, was being quickly over-taken by threatening looking black clouds. And, according to the outdoor thermometer, the temperature was dropping rather than warming up as it should be at this time of day. Dropping temperatures in the early afternoon were not a good weather sign in her location. Perhaps she ought to batten down the hatches instead, she thought, rubbing her upper arms with her hands to warm them.

* * *

As she turned to go back into the house, a camera lens winked as it caught a ray of disappearing sunlight. Then, after a couple of quiet shutter clicks that were lost beneath the sound of a car driving past, she closed the door, unaware that she was being watched.

**Chapter 8**

Feeling as though he'd accomplished something, after completing a phone call to his FBI contact after talking to Shirley, Brad was whistling as he walked up to his California-girl-client-hostesses house. He had an over-flowing cloth grocery bag - that he'd bought at the supermarket because it was more environmentally friendly, thank you very much - crooked easily in one arm. He'd added some fresh fruit to his purchases, thinking that Saffron might like to share it with him.

At the door he leaned against the frame with one shoulder, smiling to himself for no good reason that he could think of, and waited for Saffron to answer his knock. When she didn't, he knocked again, then reached into his pocket with his free hand for the key that she'd insisted on giving him. Imagine, giving someone that she'd only met such a short time ago the key to her house, he thought, frowning as he opened the door.

Once in the house, he felt it's emptiness immediately, and his frown deepened. Setting the bag down inside the front door, he went to the room where he'd left her, but only the birds and fish looked back at him.

"Saffron?"

Walking to the back part of the house, he stepped up to her bedroom. "Saffron?" he repeated. Empty as well.

His heart had begun to beat double time, and his stomach knotted. He was just beginning to consider his options when he heard the back door slam. He moved quickly, but carefully, toward the kitchen.

When he saw his client safe and sound, Brad breathed a sigh of relief. But there was something else that he was feeling; a seething anger. He did his best to tamp it down. After all, she had every right to go anywhere that she liked. How could she know otherwise? Still, the incident had left him out of his comfort zone and full of adrenaline. Her pleasant greeting didn't get more than a grunt in response while he tried to shift back out of stress mode.

"What's the matter?" she asked, taking a potted plant to the corner of the kitchen.

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him with her expressive blue eyes, waiting for an answer.

"Nothing. Do you need help with that?"

"No, thanks. I've just been bringing in a couple of my cold sensitive plants. The weather forecast says that an Alaskan storm is coming through. I wanted to get it done early, in case I don't beat the weather home tonight."

"Don't beat it home?" he repeated, instantly back on alert.

"Mmmm hmm. Hot date, and all that. Oh, but don't worry," she assured him quickly, "I'll make sure that there's something here for you, if you want it, or you can order something in."

Brad was speechless. A date? Her brother hadn't said anything about a boyfriend. In fact, he'd specifically said that she didn't have one. He had wanted to know up front if there was going to be an ugly confrontation with a jealous boyfriend.

What he was feeling at the moment annoyed him. Speaking of which, it felt a lot like jealousy. Which was the most ridiculous thing that he'd ever heard of. Why would he be jealous of Saffron, just because she was heading out on a date? Why, indeed.

"In a way, I kind of wish that I was joining you for something like take-out," she said thoughtfully, picking imperfect leaves off of the plant that she'd just brought in, then stepped over to the sink to fill a small watering can.

"Then, why go?" he asked softly.

"I said that I would," she answered simply. "And it's not as though it's a torture. I'm just more in the mood for a little quiet, and a warm fireplace tonight."

* * *

Saffron had the strangest feelings around this man. He seemed to change his mood in the blink of an eye. When she'd first come in the house he'd seemed so...intense. Angry, even. Now he was looking at her in a very unsettling way. He was speaking in a quiet, gentle tone, which could, in itself, be her undoing. But, on top of it, his eyes seemed to be looking right into her soul. It was giving her that strange, off-balanced feeling again. If he tried to kiss her now...

Kiss her? Why in the world would he do that? She gave herself a mental shake, and turned back to her plant, making herself busy as she firmly put all thoughts of kissing Brad Smith out of her mind. Mostly.

**Chapter 9**

Brad watched Saffron and her date enter the restaurant, though he made sure that it didn't look as though he'd seen them. She looked beautiful in a mid-length, Christmas-red dress. He'd like to linger on that thought, but he wanted to focus on assessing the man with her first.

Tall, fair, friendly looking, and fit. Alright, so he'd hoped to find him wanting. But then, what did it matter? The important thing was his job, and that was to keep an eye on Dave's sister.

He'd felt uncomfortable enough with her out of his sight when he'd left before she'd been picked up by 'Buddy.' Thank goodness she'd left the restaurant's number by the phone, so that he could figure out where they were going.

At least he could relax for the duration of the meal. He'd already checked out the patrons of the restaurant, as well as any visible staff, and was keeping an eye on the door. Luckily, the table that he'd wanted, which gave him an excellent view of the room, and entrances, had been available.

When he saw Saffron and Buddy step farther into the room, he pretended to concentrate on his menu. He'd already come close to memorizing the blue-tasseled list, but they had no way to know that this wasn't the first time that he'd seen it. Out of the corner of his eye he watched them come closer.

"Brad?" Saffron sounded incredulous when she finally spotted him.

"Saffron?" He'd practiced his look of surprise in the mirror before leaving the house. "This is where you're having dinner? Small world! Everything looks wonderful. But, being from out of town, I'm having a hard time choosing what to have. I don't know what are considered their best dishes..." Academy Award, here he came.

"Oh, well, I can give you my opinion."

She was falling for the lamb-away-from-home bit; hook, line, and sinker. He should feel guilty. But he didn't. Meanwhile, Buddy was standing by, beginning to shift his feet, and waiting to be introduced. Might as well rack up some bonus politeness points.

"So, you're Buddy?" he asked, smiling at the other man. He half rose, and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Buddy took the hand, and looked directly at Brad with deep blue eyes. "Nice to meet you."

Before Buddy could say anything else, or pull Saffron away, Brad gave in to impulse. "Would you kids like to join me?"

He gave them his nicest smile, with a touch of hopefulness just for his California hostesses soft spot.

"Oh, I don't know....Buddy? Would you like to join Brad for dinner?"

Brad knew that Buddy could say no, but also knew that he wouldn't. He'd look like a class A jerk if he did, even if he played the: 'I want to spend time alone with you' card.

"Uhm, yeah. Sure."

_Sorry, Buddy_ , Brad thought, deciding not to push it by fighting him to pull out Saffron's chair.

Once seated and given menus, Buddy announced that he was having the Prawns Pad Thai without looking at his. Saffron didn't look surprised.

"And you'll be joining me for them," he said with the confidence of a man who'd been out with the same woman, at the same restaurant, multiple times.

Brad's eyes narrowed. _The lady 's craving comfort food_, he remembered, and interjected. "How are the burgers?"

"Burgers?" Buddy looked as if the question had been asked in a foreign language, but Saffron became animated.

"They're wonderful," she smiled, leaning forward, "Absolutely delicious!"

"I was also looking at the rosemary chicken, fish and chips, and eggplant Parmesan."

"I'll make rosemary chicken for you, if you like," she said, still looking at her menu.

Was that a jealous glint in Buddy-boy's eye?

"I also make a mean eggplant Parmesan, which I'd be happy to make for you as well. I used to make it pretty often for Dave, but with him away...

"The fish and chips are actually addicting," she added. "I'll tell you what, whatever you don't order tonight, either the burger or fish and chips, we'll come back and have after the next choir meeting. They're both on the lunch menu."

Buddy looked like he was debating whether to leave or hit Brad in the nose. He cleared his throat instead. "So, will you be joining me for the Thai prawns?"

Saffron looked at her menu for a moment longer.

"Actually, I think that I'll have the burger this time," she said, folding it closed decisively, and setting it down.

"I'll have the same," Brad said, taking a sip of ice water. "We can have the fish and chips for lunch." He should have said ' _I 'll' _but he couldn't resist saying the more intimate ' _we_.'

For some reason, Buddy was beginning to rub him the wrong way. Aside from how he touched Saffron at the small of her back and shoulder which, of course, was none of his business, there was his assumption that his date would have whatever he was having. Even if she usually did have it, it was polite, to his way of thinking, to let her think about it and choose for herself.

According to the menu, the burgers, which came on special house rolls, also came with romaine lettuce, sweet onion, tomato slices, and pickle spears. Then, there was an extensive list of additions that you could choose from.

"I'll have the half burger, and would like grilled mushrooms with that," Saffron told Danny, their waiter. "Please, also grill my onions, and may I get the Au gratin potatoes instead of the fries? They only have the Au gratins on the dinner menu," she elaborated for Brad's sake. "And they are fantastic."

"Then I'll try them instead of the fries, as well," Brad said, ignoring the poison darts coming from Buddy's eyes. "Also, a slice of Provolone on mine, the grilled portobello mushrooms as well, and coleslaw on the side," Brad finished, handing Danny their menus.

In a small way he kind of felt for Buddy. This was turning out to be a painful night for him.

* * *

Brad had debated tailing Buddy and Saffron home, but decided that he couldn't get by with it on the quiet, residential streets that they planned to take, according to their discussion at the restaurant, regardless of his concerns. It would make him look like a creep. Damn this business of Dave's sister having to be in the dark, anyway.

Earlier in the day, when he had called Dave, he'd explained the new developments to see if that changed his mind about telling Saffron about the threat to her. Of course, he could just about visualize the scene when she found out that she'd been lied to about the real reason for his being here. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but her safety came first. No matter what. Therefore, if Dave decided, at any point, that he wanted her to know, then so be it.

He was just beginning to become worried enough, after twenty minutes at the house, to get back in his car and backtrack to the restaurant, when he heard the purr of Mr. Perfect's car. Forcing himself not to rush, he walked over and turned the heat on under the teapot that he'd filled with water when he'd first gotten back to the house. The cups, cookies, and plates, were already lined up on the counter.

Walking to the front door and unlatching the screen, he stepped out into the bright, icy night, and leaned on a pillar at the top of the porch steps. He could see that Saffron and Buddy were having some type of discussion, and saw Buddy look over at him.

A little more talking, and then Buddy came around and opened Saffron's door. Brad gave them a big smile and wave as they came to where the sidewalk met the walkway. He couldn't tell for sure, as the light wasn't shining directly on his face, but he could swear that Buddy was glaring at him.

_Buddy, Buddy, Buddy,_ he thought, as the other man hesitated a moment, looked straight at him waiting at the top of the steps, said one more quick word to his date, then drove away in his cute little car...noisily.

"I've got tea heating," he said when Saffron reached him. "I thought you might feel as chilled as I did when I got here. I thought Buddy would be coming in," he added, pleased with the touch of having laid out 3 cups and saucers. The better he looked, the less validity it gave to anything that Buddy might have said about him.

"No, he had to get home," she said vaguely. That led him to guess that there was a little more to it then just having to ' _get home_.'

Then she smiled, while he helped her off with her coat. "Thanks, I'll just be a minute."

He kind of hated to see the red dress leave; it looked great on her.

"What type of tea would you like?" he asked, when she stepped into the kitchen a few minutes later wearing old jeans. Jeans that hugged her curves a little too well, he thought, trying to give his attention to their dessert. She was also wearing a bulky sweater in soft oatmeal. He never knew that bulky knit could be sexy.

"I'll have the cranberry. You?"

"I'm having green tea," he said, reaching into the tin that the loose tea was kept in.

"That's an especially good tea," she assured him. "It's what they use at my favorite Chinese restaurant. They go down and get it from San Francisco each month. Look at these flowers." She pointed to actual dried flowers in the container of bulk tea.

He'd never seen flowers in tea before, but he was having trouble concentrating on them with his California-girl-sort-of-client leaning in so close. _His_ California-girl? He'd need to be more careful with his thoughts.

They sat at the table with the teapot off to one side, and the plate of cookies between them.

"This was very thoughtful of you," Saffron said, sipping her tea. "I love these cookies. They go great with hot drinks," she added, biting into a second one.

"Yes, they do," he agreed. "I felt like warming up and having a little dessert."

"Good choice. How did you like The Cove?"

"It's a great place. Wonderful food, excellent service, pleasant ambiance . . . I'm looking forward to going there again."

He said it almost like a promise, she thought. A strangely intimate promise.

* * *

Later, as she drifted off to sleep, Saffron's thoughts were not on Buddy, but dark, unruly curls and a pair of deep, green eyes.

**Chapter 10**

Over the next few days, Brad found himself traveling all over town, and beyond, with his California-girl client/hostess.

In that time, he discovered a lot about her as they ran her errands to a stationary shop for envelopes - in pastel colors, not white, and printer ink; the post office for 'pretty stamps' instead of the common ones that he usually grabbed; the feed store for natural wild bird seed, and a mom and pop printing shop for greeting cards made from the drawings that she'd been working on.

It would have been a little more difficult to explain why he wanted to tag along on other errands, though. Such as when she went to a friend's home cum shop to have her nails done for the holidays. So he sometimes had to satisfy himself with keeping an eye on her from a slight distance.

Such as the day that she'd gone to a baby shower at the community center, he thought with an inward groan. He'd filled up on enough sugar and caffeine in the form of coffee and Danish, at the cafe across the street, to wire a lesser man for a month.

Even pacing himself he'd had to keep slowly eating and drinking for the duration to warrant keeping his seat in the popular, busy eatery.

What had they been doing in there, anyway? How could a mother-to-be have that kind of stamina? It boggled the mind. But, at least his booth seat was at a window which had given him a perfect view of the doors and parking lot of the Center.

It had been a learning experience, all right. He now knew that whether vanilla was real or fake mattered, that homemade cream cheese frosting was better than the kind in a container, and that houseplants got the same consideration as people with regards to natural food.

Today, thankfully, there didn't seem to be anything going on, but he knew that with Saffron, that could change at any time. He sometimes wished that he could just ask her for a full itinerary for the length of his stay, and be done with it.

Currently, she was walking in and out of her drawing room, taking care of her fish and birds. Maybe today would be a quiet, event-free day after all. It wasn't easy staying by her side, yet not looking like either a bodyguard or a boyfriend. They got plenty of looks as it was. Some of those looks said, 'Ah, lover.' Others clearly recognized him for what he was. Not that he hadn't thought about wishing that he was the former, rather than the latter...

A little bored, and not at all adverse to spending some time with his hostess, since for once he wasn't in work-mode, Brad moseyed into the room where he found her replacing the birds clean water bowls. Whatever small talk he would have made right then was interrupted, however, by the ringing of the phone.

"Be right back," she called over her shoulder as she rushed into the living room to answer it.

He was still amused by the fact that her primary house phone was a tethered land-line. She had a cell phone, but only turned it on while out. She certainly did things her own way, he thought.

Standing around the room, waiting, he could hear from her distant voice that the conversation had taken on a decidedly leisurely, chatty tone. He relaxed, watching the excited birds hop from perch to perch, and finally line up at the main cage door. They were definitely looking at him, their heads periodically cocked to one side. One, he thought it was the one that she called Bastion, even let out a tentative chirp. Apparently, they had seen the food container, and recognized it.

After another minute of being stared at, he decided that he could give them their food. How difficult could it be to put some seed into a couple of food dishes, anyway? Okay, so he was hoping that it would please Saffron that he'd taken the initiative and finished feeding her little pets, but there was nothing wrong with doing a good deed _and_ getting recognized for it, was there?

It only took him a couple of minutes to dump out what was left of the old seed from the feeders, wipe them out, re-fill them, and then put them back into the cage. He carefully latched the cage, closed the room behind him like Saffron always did, then wandered into the kitchen for a glass of juice.

He'd done a good job, he thought, giving himself a mental pat on the back. He was looking forward to her pleased reaction, he thought, leaning on the counter and taking a long drink of organic V-8. Saffron's California-girl ways seemed to be rubbing off on him, he thought wryly. Just a little, of course.

When she finally completed her conversation, Brad was settled in a comfortable chair, and reading the newspaper that he'd bought. Saffron didn't take a daily paper, so he'd gotten it from a machine next to the supermarket. Re-folding the paper, he set it down.

"Nice conversation?"

"Yes," she enthused, "that was an old friend. We always get together sometime before Christmas, have lunch, and shop for a special ornament together."

Brad groaned inwardly at the thought of yet another shopping day, though, he had to admit having been surprised to find that the most mundane and unlikely errand was not nearly as unpleasant as he would have previously thought, when you were in good company. And she was, he had begun to realize, very good company.

"Did you set a date?" he asked conversationally as he followed her back to the birds' room/her drawing room. He'd been surprised to discover that, more than just for fact finding purposes, he'd also begun to enjoy casual conversation with his hostess-client.

"We're pretty sure that we'll go at the end of the week," she replied, stopping with her hand on the doorknob of her drawing room. "We have to work around the choir, of course, and she has visiting family."

Turning the knob, she opened the door, and a blue streak, followed quickly by another, flew out at rocket-like speed.

"What the....?!" she exclaimed, closing the door carefully, but quickly. "Darn, the nets are in the room!"

Brad was braced to mobilize at her first exclamation, but wasn't sure what had happened.

"Close the curtain!" Saffron yelled over her shoulder as she slipped into the room, letting out a red and black finch as she did.

Muscles already tensed, Brad sprang for the window, barely heading off a finch. The bird saw him coming and veered off to the left. He realized then that the bird had no idea that there was glass between himself, and the world beyond.

He remembered a dove hitting a window of his childhood home once. Luckily, it had only been stunned, and had recovered fully. But, he knew that a damaged beak, or a broken neck, could be the result of a bird hitting glass.

Saffron slipped back out of the room, through a barely opened door, a moment later and with two nets in hand.

"I'm so glad that I didn't give the old one away," she said, handing one to him.

It took a good twenty minutes for the two of them to catch three birds. One of the cordon bleu's had been an easy capture on top of a lamp shade, but the other two birds were master escape artists. He had no idea what they would have looked like to others as they chased down their quarry, nets in hand. Just as well that the curtains were closed.

Saffron had immediately kicked off her shoes at the start of the rescue operation, and jumped onto the couch to try and capture the red and black strawberry finch from the curtain rod, but he flew away into the kitchen with Saffron in hot pursuit at a full run, heading straight for the sink. He didn't have time to stop and watch, but before turning back to the bird that he was after, he saw her stuff a dishtowel into the drain. He shuddered at the thought which had never before occurred to him.

The cordon bleu that he was now pretty sure was Bastion, had taken him to every corner of the room by the end of the twenty minutes. Once, he and Saffron had nearly collided as they had followed their prospective birds without taking their eyes off of them. He worried that they were going to over-stress the little birds, chasing them all over the house. But then he noticed that he and Saffron were the only ones who seemed stressed, and getting a workout.

The birds, who got plenty of flying exercise in the long flight cage that Saffron provided for them, were choosing out-of-the-way perches, and not moving until someone got close to them. Then, they would just fly to another, higher perch - if possible, and wait for the silly humans to get close again before moving locations. Once, when he decided to slow down and sneak up on Bastion, he saw the red-cheeked bird actually stop to preen.

* * *

Saffron collapsed onto her divan. She was surprisingly tired, but suspected that part of it was the worry that she'd felt at seeing her little birds flying all over the house. There were so many dangers in a house for any bird, but especially tiny ones. Air and heater vents, getting lost, cooking...thank goodness she hadn't been cooking . . . drains, which reminded her: _note to self, get a new drain cover for the kitchen sink._

They'd been too busy to talk while trying to capture the birds, or while she had caught the others, which had been loose in her contained drawing room. But, now that they had finally sat down after thirty minutes of bird capturing, she noticed that Brad didn't look like his usual, confident self. He was definitely too quiet, considering what they'd just gone through. That seemed odd to her. Shouldn't he feel happy? He'd done all that he could to help her catch her wayward pets; had done a really good job, in fact, plus...

Saffron stopped her own train of thought as her eyes fell on the finch seed container that she'd carried in before the phone had rung. She didn't remember leaving it to the left of the cage. No, she hadn't. She'd been about to feed the birds, and had set it to the right, nearest the door, like she always did. Looking further, she saw that the bowls had fresh seed in them.

"I'm not sure how," Brad said in a low voice tinged with regret, "but I think that the birds being out is my fault. I," he cleared his throat, "fed them for you while you were on the phone."

If she had learned anything about Brad since he'd been there, it was that he was straight shooting, and didn't shirk responsibility. And, looked great after a shower, eating breakfast, pushing a shopping cart...she pulled herself quickly away from those thoughts.

Oh, she suspected that he played by his own set of rules at times, but she was quickly getting the impression that he did what he thought was right in a given situation, and therefore rarely needed to apologize. Things might not be black and white to him, she suspected, however, from what she had seen, if he was responsible for a problem, he would own up to it. Of that, she felt sure.

For her part, she had purposely done her best to keep her life as simple and uncomplicated as possible. In fact, her guest was the biggest complication that she'd encountered in a long time. She really shouldn't let him be, though. All that she needed to do was let him take time off at her place, and distract him from whatever problems had necessitated his stay to begin with. Yet, somehow, it had become something bigger. Much bigger. His presence in her home, and in her life, had become huge and all encompassing. She thought about him all the time. Which might be because she seemed to be spending every waking hour with him.

She'd thought of insisting that he not go with her when she did things. But then, she pictured him wandering the rooms of her house, aimlessly, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

Besides, he really did try to be helpful, and in most cases, today notwithstanding, he was. He helped her to carry groceries, potting soil, and other items to and from the car and into the house. And, he had offered, on his own, to help her sort through the books that she'd had to categorize for the library sale. Likewise, he had helped her to stamp and address her Christmas cards when she'd spent an evening writing them out, and had even gallantly crawled under the house when the neighbor boy's ball had rolled beneath it.

The important thing was that he tried. Buddy never did, she realized. Buddy didn't try at anything. Ever. It was refreshing to meet a man like Brad. Like those that she'd grown up with. Ones who would pitch in when the need arose, whether it was to fix the garage door or wash the dishes - which Brad insisted on helping with most of the time. Or, feed her birds. Buddy had never looked twice at her birds, yes let thought to feed them.

"It was an accident," she said after a moment, leaving her train of thought behind. "Besides, it turned out alright. Everyone is back in the cage safe and sound. And," she added, glancing into the cage, "eating happily. Thanks for feeding them."

**Chapter 11**

Brad couldn't believe how quickly time was moving along. They were getting closer and closer to Christmas. More importantly, he thought, his time here was nearing an end. And, while Dave's sister had remained safe so far, whoever it was that had been threatening her was still on the loose.

He was getting that old, antsy feeling, he realized as he put on his aviator sunglasses while walking toward Saffron's car. He was certain that whoever it was, was close by.

The feeling continued as he reached the car. The little hairs at the back of his neck were tingling as he loaded the backseat with the boxes of books that they'd lined up on the porch. His neck hairs never lied, he thought grimly, hefting another box onto the seat.

He wished, for the umpteenth time, that Saffron, who was completely unaware of what was going on, and who was _his_ responsibility, lived in a remote location. Something a little more defendable, at least; where any stranger would be suspect.

Here, someone that he didn't recognize might be visiting one of the neighbors...who he had made a point to catalog, and memorize. But, with people having holiday visitors over for seasonal cheer, there were new faces coming and going all the time.

It had him feeling decidedly uncomfortable most of the time. He practically paced if he had to stay still for more than a few minutes at a time, and when they went out, he had upped his scanning to nearly a constant state; even when they were in what should be a fairly secure location.

Today, they were heading to the beach for one of Saffron's photo shoots. Photography, it turned out, was her primary source of income, and she'd been hired by a family to take their annual photos.

Personally, he knew next to nothing about photography, but had offered to help anyway. He was sure that she didn't need his help, but since she had been stoically letting him get involved with everything else that she had done so far; whether it was helpful to have him along, or not, he hoped that she'd allow him to tag along anyway.

At times, he knew that she was using the patience of Job as he slowed her down in her tasks, or just plain crowded her. Other times, he caused a bit of chaos, he thought wryly, feeling bad as he remembered the bird _incident_.

It turned out, that even when you locked the door to the cage, if you didn't know that there was a trick to it, a small space, just large enough for a tiny bird to get through, opened at the bottom corner. One bird escaping then showed the others how to quickly follow. They were fast learning little buzzards, he thought affectionately, realizing that he had become pretty fond of the colorful little guys and gals in the short time that he'd been here.

Saffron had been very nice about the whole thing, though. Actually, he had realized after that day, she was just a nice person, period. He'd been enjoying her company more than he liked to admit, and was sorry that he would be leaving soon. Very sorry.

* * *

Meticulously, Saffron laid out everything that she needed to take with her for today's job. It took so little room these days, she thought. Going digital, from the film cameras that her grandfather had showed her how to use when she was younger, had been quite a change for her. But, once she'd gotten her higher end digital camera, she had never looked back.

She loved her camera. It took great photos, had many features that she loved and, when naked, almost fit in the palm of her hand. Yes, she definitely loved her camera, she thought with a smile.

Camera, extra batteries, extra disks, UV filter, polarizing filter, wide lens, lens connector, soft cloth, hot shoe flash . . . no, she wouldn't need that today, remote, and tripod.

After checking them off in her mind, she put each item back into their individual pouches in her camera bag, which sported a picture of Snoopy wearing shades on it - in a Santa hat. It never failed to make her chuckle.

A gift from Dave one Christmas, she had broken it out the day after Thanksgiving, as she always did. She wished that she could be as cool and confident as Snoopy; at least where Brad was concerned, she thought. She knew that it was silly, but she felt out of her depth with him, which just wasn't like her. Something about him seemed, oh heck, she didn't know. So much _more_ than was on the surface, somehow.

Yes, he made her tingle from head to toe when he walked into a room, spoke quietly to her while looking at her with one of his unreadable gazes, and the touch and smell of him were amazing. All of her senses went into overdrive where he was concerned, she got that. But, why did she always feel like there was more to him to know, yet she couldn't quite get to his hidden side?

Maybe he had a secret life, she thought, as she picked up her camera bag. If he did have a few secrets, she thought, heading for the door, and who didn't, it certainly couldn't involve her. Brad Smith's private live was none of her concern, she told herself firmly as she she stepped out onto the walkway.

* * *

She'd never get used to having him in the car with her, she decided a few minutes later, sighing deeply as he strolled over and opened the passenger door to join her. She scooted over a little, and rolled down the window; her new routine.

How much longer would he be here again? Another couple of weeks? She didn't want to see him go, but her sanity might just depend on it, she thought, resisting the urge to fan herself when he worked his frame in next to her. He looked good, he smelled good, and she liked having him around...heaven help her.

The relatively short drive to the beach felt jinxed, as they seemed to hit every red light in town. They also had to wait at every crosswalk as groups of children, old men using walkers, and mother's pushing strollers worked their way slowly across the street, while she sat in her small metal box with Brad.

As always, she was relieved to escape from the car when they reached their destination. "Too close," she mumbled to herself as she reached into the back for her bag.

Brad had already walked away to the edge of the parking area, to get a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean. And, what a view it was, she thought, relaxing. Even though it was winter, they were having an exceptionally warm day. The forecast had called for it to be in the 70's and sunny. She had hoped that they would be correct, so that her photos would come out their best. Blue skies trumped gray any day, as far as she was concerned.

Tossing the fairly lightweight camera bag over her shoulder crosswise, she led Brad down through the native grasses, over the rocks, and down to the sand. Sometimes they touched for a moment, and once, over some particularly steep rocks, he took her hand. His had felt large and strong around hers, with a startling electrical jolt that had run from his to hers. She wished, for a fleeting moment, that they could stroll the entire way hand in hand.

Something in her chest tightened as soon as the thought was completed, and she wanted to lean against him. She was becoming an emotional wreck, she decided, wishing for her life BB . . . Before Brad. It had been a perfectly acceptable life to her. No emotional roller coasters, no complications. Thankfully, the moment was brief. As for the jolt that she had felt when they'd touched, it must have been some kind of static electricity in the beach air.

As soon as they hit the sand, she began walking up the beach. It was the warmest point of the day, and she had scheduled the shoot to take advantage of the light. She considered the warm light of late afternoon to be the most flattering.

As though by agreement, they walked without talking, breathing deeply of the fresh, salty ocean air, allowing themselves to be enveloped by the sounds of the waves and sea birds. She felt each muscle soften, one by one, as she walked. And, in a very short time, she was as relaxed as if she had spent a day at a spa. There was something special and rejuvenating about the beach, she thought happily, smiling to herself as she watched a seagull glide on an air current over the water.

* * *

Brad had been surprised to see a day so comfortably warm at this time of year. The weather had been pretty nippy recently, but Saffron had assured him that while December days in the 70's were unusual, they weren't unheard of. She'd seemed pretty excited about the prospect of taking her photos on such a day.

As they sauntered down the beach, he watched her stop periodically to pick something up, which he assumed were seashells. He hadn't planned to beach comb himself, but saw a perfect pair of striped, pink shells that were exceptionally pretty, like Saffron herself. He picked them up, and zipped them carefully into one of his upper pockets. Then he saw a small, smooth piece of driftwood shaped like a boomerang, followed by a rock that had holes throughout it. Both made their way into side pockets in his cargo pants. He was glad that he'd decided that cargo pants were more 'beachy' than jeans, when he'd dressed this morning.

Saffron seemed especially relaxed since they'd actually gotten down to the water, he noticed. Her walk was loose, her smile easy, and there was a contented look to her that he liked. A lot.

After turning a couple of bends that followed the curves of the cliffs above them, they came upon the family waiting for them. Mom, dad, grandparents, a boy about five in a blue sailor suit, and a baby barely walking, dressed in pink. They had large blankets spread out on the sand, and were playing with fist-sized cars with the little boy. The remnants of their lunch was tucked in a basket off to one side, next to a diaper bag.

"Isn't this a lovely day?" the mother asked, smiling warmly.

After speaking with her clients briefly, so as not to lose her light advantage, Saffron gathered everyone for photos. Brad enjoyed the familiar hominess of the mother bouncing the baby to get her to smile, and the grandmother wiping the little boy's already clean face. Dad and grandpa stood still, waiting to find out what they were supposed to do.

After a short time, the children had tired of the boring photo shoot, so Saffron had the little boy get one of his cars, and that bought her another few minutes as he played with it, posed with it, and happily showed it off.

Saffron looked every inch the California girl that she was, standing here on the beach, he noticed. And, she was good with children. Not that he cared, he corrected the thought quickly. But, if someone did care, and wanted a family, it looked as though she liked children, and got along with them. Not everyone did.

He himself got along with children. They liked him, and he liked them. He just wasn't ready to think of having any of his own. And in his line of work, wasn't sure that he ever would be. The thought saddened him, but he had to be realistic. It wouldn't be fair to marry, or bring children into a world, where their husband and father was in a risky line of work. Risky enough to put his life on the line for other people. People like Saffron.

He actually didn't want to do this forever, and sometimes realized that he should consider retiring from it while he was still at the top of his game. And alive. He wasn't old, by any means. In fact, he liked to think of himself as being in the prime of his life, but for this line of work he had to consider that _prime of life_ and _prime to work_ may be two entirely different things. Regardless, for as long as he was still doing it, he couldn't possibly entertain thoughts of a family.

When the photo shoot was over, there were friendly good-bye's, and a quick discussion of a follow-up meeting.

Somehow, the job seemed to have energized Saffron. She was much more talkative on the way back down the beach than she had been on the way over. She told him which shots she thought were going to turn out the best, talked about the people, who owned a local honey company, and gushed about Danny, the little boy.

At one point, his oh-so-California-girl hostess stopped, and sat down in the sand. She took off her shoes, and rolled up her pant legs . . . so that she could walk, kick, and splash, in the foamy surf. He had gotten some life altering lessons in what was sexy recently, and added the barefoot-beach-bum look to his list. Who would have guessed?

She seemed so happy that Brad's heart suddenly ached to be able to forget about threats, and instead hold her in his arms. Turning away, he instead stepped farther to the outside of where she was walking and watched the sand, rocks, and distant dunes for signs of anyone lurking. The fact was, he _was_ working, and there wasn't any chance of them ever being more than what currently were; client and protector.

* * *

Saffron felt Brad emotionally withdraw from her, and was confused. What had happened? Had she done or said something wrong? Maybe she'd been too long-winded and self-centered about the photo shoot . . . But, she felt fantastic. The ocean air had cleared her head, and the shoot had gone beautifully. It was going to be some of her best work, she was sure of it.

Skittering mischievously over to Brad, she tried to tease him back into being present with her by tossing a handful of water at him. Of course, by the time that she got over to him, there were only a few drops left, so she flicked them onto his forearm, smiling impishly at him.

But, he didn't relent. If anything, he looked darker than ever and almost...angry. After making one more failed attempt at playfulness, she gave up, and the day seemed less bright somehow. Chastened, she walked sedately the rest of the way back.

* * *

After they delivered the books to the library sale center, Brad realized how wrong he'd been to let emotions get in the way of his job. He never did that. Well, not until this job, at least. And he knew that it hadn't been fair to Saffron.

She'd been very quiet since she'd tried to engage him on the beach. Too quiet. He felt bad for having put a dampener on her day, but didn't know how to make up for it. It wasn't as though this was a typical man-woman relationship, after all. This was a working relationship...only, she didn't know it. He was getting tired of this subterfuge. He hated seeing the shadowed look on her face. She looked like she'd just been told off by someone that she trusted. Damn.

After they got home, she made herself scarce after declaring that dinner would be whatever was in the 'fridge, in case he decided that he'd rather eat out, but he'd already come up with a better plan on the way back from the library.

As evening brought with it the early darkness of December, Brad quietly used the phone, and built a fire in the stone hearth. This would be a good start in helping to cheer Saffron up, he hoped, as he coaxed the starter wood. He'd noticed how much she enjoyed spending an evening in front of the fireplace.

By the time that she came out from working on this afternoon's photos, the fire was crackling, and going well.

"How nice."

She smiled for the first time since he'd acted like a jerk on the beach, and looked at him for long moment. He wondered if she was going to say something else, but the doorbell rang, interrupting the moment. Knowing who it was, Brad didn't worry, he just trailed behind her when she went to answer it.

"Golden Dragon."

The middle aged man was pleasant, though he seemed cold. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, and it was supposed to get below freezing tonight. It was difficult, from the cold wind that came in the open door, to believe that it had been a sunny, warm day.

"Did you order this?" Saffron asked, turning to Brad with a puzzled look.

"Yes, would you like to join me?"

A grin slowly spread across her face. "You bet."

"Come in and warm up?" Brad asked the deliverer, as he paid him, taking the hot bags of Chinese take-out from his hands.

"I wish I could, I surely do, but there are still deliveries to make. I'm like the post office, you know...not rain, nor sleet, nor snow...!"

"Merry Christmas!" Saffron leaned to a basket of small gifts that she kept next to the door, and handed the man a beribboned bag from it.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, and thanks," he smiled. "Enjoy your food!"

When the door was shut back against the now howling wind, like a beast outside of the house, the bags were deposited on the coffee table, next to the warm, fragrant fire. Brad sat down, and began unloading the food.

If Saffron noticed that there was easily enough food for two, with leftovers, she didn't say so.

They shared orders of hors d'oeuvres, and small servings of main dishes, enjoying steaming hot won ton soup, perfectly cooked rice, superb egg rolls, glazed ribs, chicken chow mein with toasted almonds, and delicious breaded fish balls with a pomegranate sauce that Brad had never had anything like before. He had only ordered it because it had sounded interesting, and now decided that it was one of the best foods that he'd ever eaten.

They each had at least a little of everything, and Brad was gratified to see Saffron so obviously enjoying herself. He didn't know if it was the food, the crackling fire, or something else, but he felt warm and mellow, through and through.

He knew that this couldn't last forever; very soon this job would be complete, and he would go back to his own life. But, he'd done quite a bit of thinking this afternoon and, for now, he fully intended to enjoy any down time that he had while he was here. He couldn't get enough of Saffron's company, and he didn't plan to try to anymore.

**Chapter 12**

The following morning, as Brad leaned against the frame of the picture window in the living room, his hands shoved into his pockets, he looked out at the lightening sky and wondered, once again, what he was going to do if the people threatening Saffron were not caught.

He'd received a phone call from Dave late last night, saying that he'd gotten another threatening letter. Only this time it was accompanied by a photo, taken only a few days ago, of his sister standing on the front porch of her house.

"Where are you?" He growled under his breath, scanning the world beyond the glass. This was impossible. What she needed was to be stashed in a safe house for a while. But, for how long? And, again, what if the responsible parties weren't caught?

The FBI had determined that the men threatening Dave and Saffron were independents, working for monetary gain. Apparently, they believed that their threats to Dave would convince him to give them a large sum of money. There was also reason to believe that the men behind the plot had hired some muscle. And that, more than anything else that he'd heard, was scaring the hell out of him. The thought of anything happening to Saffron made him feel a very unprofessional mix of emotions.

Because of this latest information, he had hardly slept. What little sleep he'd gotten was fitful, and he had finally given up trying over an hour ago.

He was glad that the relationship between he and the Saffron was back on an even keel, and he planned to keep it that way. No matter what his feelings were, or how much he liked, admired, and yes, even desired her, he would stop acting like an adolescent, and control his emotions.

Today was the day that she and her friend were going to go ornament shopping, so he had needed to convince her of his own need to shop, as well. Malls. Terrific. He'd rather have a tooth extracted. She certainly did have a way of finding the things that he normally avoided doing. He sighed deeply, and was about to turn away from the window when he saw a quick wink of light.

_What the . . . ? _

Not having turned on a light, he knew that he could see out better than someone could see in, so he carefully stepped farther to one side of the window, and looked back out. He became a statue; not moving, and barely breathing, until he saw it again.

_Wink_.

Something reflected. A spotting scope? A flash? He memorized it's approximate location, then went to the back door, stepping carefully. He knew that footsteps in a house sounded louder outside than people realized. He'd found and memorized the creaky spots on his second day here.

Remaining quiet, he undid the deadbolt with great care, pushed open the back door carefully enough to keep it silent, then slipped out. It seemed to him that he'd just done this the other night, when the snowman had been defaced. But this time, he wasn't chasing scraps of paper. He had a real flesh and blood person outside of the house.

He knew that he could move silently, despite his size, and made his way along the back of the house without so much as rustling a leaf. He didn't have to think twice about it, so honed were his skills.

Stopping when he reached the corner of the building, to see if anyone was nearby, he practiced another of his skills; remaining perfectly still, then letting his senses take over. His green eyes, now sharp, searched for any movement, or disparity in color or pattern in his surroundings, while his ears listened for footfalls, the cracking of twigs, or anything else to suggest another human being nearby. Meanwhile, he breathed in the scents around him.

People tended to layer many scents on themselves each day. Soaps, shampoos, deodorants, lotions, hair products, smoke from cigarettes or fireplaces, onions from their sandwiches, garlic in their pasta sauce, laundry soap and dryer sheets on their clothes, the gum in their mouth...most people didn't have a clue.

As soon as he was certain that the side of the house was clear, Brad moved stealthily towards the front, sticking to the shrub and tree lines. Once at the front corner of the house, he slowly moved down into a crouch behind a group of shaggy junipers - thank goodness for plants that stayed green and full all year long - and went stock still again.

This time, when he saw the winking of light, he quickly uncoiled his bunched body, and sprang like a tiger. He was more than halfway to his destination in a single leap, dodging defensively as soon as he touched ground. He was moving at full speed in a blink, and while he was sure that he had startled whoever was spying on them, they recovered quickly, and were streaking across the street before he reached them.

Buzz cut hair, he noted, even as the man hit a neighbor's privacy fence with a loud, dull thump, then vaulted over. Having scoped out the neighborhood previously, Brad veered to the right, and cut the man's probable escape route off as he headed to a shorter portion of fence at another house around the corner. Seeing him, the pale man shrugged out of his jacket, did a magnificent vault over some metal trashcans, then used a pick-up truck bed as a springboard, setting off a car alarm.

Brad kept up with the lithe man, but he was still a few feet behind him when the man jumped between a van backing out of a driveway, and a bread truck making a morning delivery. By the time that Brad made it around the back of the bread truck, both drivers having stopped, startled, his quarry had gotten into a car and was pulling away from where it had been parked, his foot on the gas.

Rather than keep running, when he had no hope of catching up, Brad instead stood still and focused his eyes on the quickly retreating car, reading and memorizing the California license plate number.

By the time that he had picked up the coat for evidence, called the his main FBI contact on the case, and gotten home, his breathing was such that no one would guess that he had just been chasing someone at full speed through the neighborhood. Now to hope that an early rising neighbor didn't mention it to Saffron.

He wished that they weren't going to the mall today. Both because he now had visual confirmation that the house was still being watched, and because he still disliked them on a personal level. He just couldn't seem to catch a break lately, he thought, tucking the cell number of special agent Paul Remy back out of sight, under his bedside table's drawer.

**Chapter 13**

Okay, so it wasn't the kind of mall that he had imagined. The malls that he'd been in, had a life of their own. They reminded him of small cities, and were virtually impossible to protect someone in. He was also confident enough in his manhood to admit that he didn't have what it took to tackle them as a shopper, either. Give him a mountain to climb, or shark infested waters to swim through, and he'd be fine. But any woman on earth, he was certain, could outlast him in a mall. It was a phenomenon that he didn't think had an explanation, but he'd happily step aside and let the ladies that he knew do the power shopping.

Where they were today was nothing more than an oversized strip mall, built in a horseshoe pattern, around a medium sized parking lot. There were several shops, shoulder to shoulder, from a bookstore to a sewing notions shop.

Mostly, they were independent little stores with a couple of larger ones tucked between them, like a Michael's. Even he had heard of Michael's. He'd never been in one, but he'd heard of it. Each had it's own entrance from the parking lot, and none were over a story high. Convenient, and not overwhelming.

"So, what do you do for the holidays in your neck of the woods?" Saffron asked conversationally, while they waited in the car for Deidre to arrive. The need to know some of the personal details of Brad's life had been eating at her like a horde of hungry mosquitoes recently.

She wasn't sure why she had developed this burning need to know more about him, since she wasn't a nosy person by nature, but nothing that she had tried had tamed her curiosity. So, she decided to scratch the itch, and ask. It had to be better than constantly wondering, and what could it hurt, anyway?

"I do the same things that most people do," he responded in a deep, quiet voice.

Saffron felt goosebumps appear at his low, intimate, sexy tone. Okay, so maybe this conversation hadn't been the best of ideas.

"Such as...?" she continued bravely. In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. It was a little late to go back now.

"I get together with friends and family, of course. I shop, though I have to admit that I'm often caught doing so at the last minute. I mean to do it earlier each year, but I just get . . ." he shrugged expansively, ". . . busy. One day I'm thinking about it, and the next thing I know, it's a couple of days before Christmas and I haven't shopped yet."

"A lot of people shop late," Saffron replied kindly. "It's not unusual."

"You don't." He said it as a fact, not a question.

"No, not if I can help it," she admitted. "I mail things out of state, so that wouldn't work for me."

"You're more organized, anyway," he said, sounding as if he admired that quality in her. He was looking at her intently.

The same look that made her feel a little dizzy, and wonder if she could actually fall into the depths of those gorgeous green eyes. It looked, she thought as she met his gaze, as if he was going to reach across the small space between them and touch her. _Don 't be ridiculous,Saffron. Why would he do that? See, he's keeping his hands to himself. That is _not _desire that you saw in his eyes, either. _

"What else do you do?" she asked, interrupting her own thoughts. She was happy to hear her voice sounding normal.

"Well, I'm the one in charge of the Christmas games every year," he continued, as if the moment before had never happened. She was right, it must have been her imagination.

"Christmas games?" Saffron saw a blue car pull into the lot through her side mirror. It looked like Deidre's.

"Yes, we always play a variety of board games, and the sock game."

"I've never heard of the sock game," she said, intrigued.

"Really? I'll have to teach it to you one of these evenings, then. It wouldn't seem like Christmas without it"

Thank goodness for the timely arrival of Saffron's friend, Brad thought, feeling a level of relief that was over-the-top for the situation. Nevertheless, if something hadn't changed, he wasn't sure how long he could have held out. The urge to reach out and touch his hostess had become nearly unbearable in the close confines of the car.

She smelled like spring, and it was testing every ounce of his willpower not to lean in and nuzzle into her neck, to take just one small taste... He was glad for the chilly breeze that blew as they got out of the car. It was helping to clear his head. Regardless of why, he had a strong case of attraction to his California girl-client, and he needed to be very careful. Play with matches, and you might get burned, he reminded himself

Deidre, like Arlene, and other friends of Saffron's that he'd met, was very nice. But while he liked her, he was pretty sure that the feeling was not mutual. She seemed friendly enough, but she clearly wasn't sure about the arrangement that her friend had with him. As well she shouldn't be. He wouldn't be happy about a friend of his taking in a stranger, either.

She had brown bobbed hair, twinkling brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose. She was wearing jeans, and a long sleeved, red and white striped pullover shirt with a wide, white collar. It made her stand out in a crowd. Good for him to keep an eye on the pair, since Deidre was a the taller of the two, but easier for other people to see, also.

His eyes took in their surroundings for the fifth time since they'd been standing there. He was trying not to look like a bodyguard, but he had to do his job. Silently he cursed Dave, like he did most days when they were out in the open like this, and wondered if it would come to breaking his confidence. It could. He clenched his jaw with his determination to keep his client safe . . . no matter what he had to do in order to accomplish it.

Deidre had, apparently, left her husband at home with their two small children so that she could meet Saffron, and she probably thought that her friend should have left him at home, as well. She seemed to be trying to covertly assess him, whenever she thought that he wasn't looking. Saffron would have some explaining to do, he was sure.

He figured that he might as well actually do some Christmas shopping while he was here. He would be seeing friends and family as soon as this job was over. Just one more reminder that he would be flying home soon. Away from California, and away from Saffron.

"I think that I'll start at the bookstore," he told Saffron and Deidre, nodding in the direction of the shop located at the bottom of the _' U'_. It strategically gave him a view of the parking lot and other stores, being all windows in the front. No one could enter any shop in the _mall_ without him seeing them do so.

"Okay," Saffron replied, locking the car door and clipping her keys to her purse. "We're going to start..." she hesitated, and looked at Deidre.

"At the Pink 'Possum?" Deidre asked, smiling, already in her shopping groove.

"At the Pink 'Possum," Saffron agreed. "Let's meet back for lunch at Sam's Sandwich Shoppe," she added, pointing across the lot to the eatery. "They have great food, and we can eat out on their back patio, since it's nice out."

"Will do." He looked at his watch. "Shall we synchronize?"

Saffron smiled broadly. "Who are you, James Bond?"

No, but it was close enough to make him feel uncomfortable.

* * *

"He's hot," Deidre said, as soon as Brad was out of ear shot. "And don't even try to tell me that you hadn't noticed," she continued, raising her hand when Saffron opened her mouth to reply. "Lying is a sin." Her crooked grin made her friend laugh.

"Fine," Saffron admitted, "he's hot. Okay?"

"Okay. But what are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Saffron asked, as they walked toward the children's section of the Pink 'Possum. "I'm not going to _do_ anything about it. Soon he'll be gone, and my life will return to normal."

"Hmmm."

"What does that mean?" Saffron felt unusually defensive, which she never did with her oldest and closest friend.

"It just means that you have a gorgeous man living under your roof, and you light up like a Christmas tree when you talk to him - that was a seasonal comparison, by the way." She smiled again, showing a dimple. "I don't think that you're going to forget about him," she continued more seriously, "and go back to your life as it was when he leaves. Nor should you," she added. "Is he married or involved?"

"No. Well, I'm not sure. He's not married, I know that. But involved, I couldn't tell you..."

"Shouldn't you find out?" Deidre fingered a red, holiday-patterned tee-shirt, then held the small item up in front of her. "What do you think about this for Mite? And this one for Princess Paula?"

Mite was the nickname of Deidre and her husband's adorable three year old, and 'Princess' Paula was their perky little five year old. "Awww, let those be from their Auntie Saff-Saff," Saffron wheedled.

"You've got it," Deidre laughed, handing the tiny garments to her best friend.

* * *

After an enjoyable shopping spree, which culminated with the Christmas tradition that she and Deidre had started in their junior year of high school: choosing an annual, matching Christmas ornament for their trees, they wandered over to Sam's Sandwich Shoppe, laughing and talking about everything, and nothing in particular.

This year, when they had chosen cute little bear figurines in sunglasses for their ornaments, Saffron's mind had wandered to Brad, and his incredibly sexy aviator shades.

Everything seemed to remind her of him these days, she thought, unhappy at the realization. But, the adorable little bear was otherwise nothing like her guest. Far from cuddly, though she imagined that he'd be wonderful to cuddle with, Brad was tall, lean and muscular. A very attractive specimen of a male. Even though she'd had time to get used to him, she didn't think that she would ever be able to stop reacting to his amazing maleness. Thank goodness that she wouldn't be put to that test, since her mouth still had a tendency to go dry whenever he walked into a room. The sooner he left, the better.

"The kidlets will love their surprise," Saffron enthused, trying to get her mind away from Brad.

Deidre agreed, pleased to have found something for them. She often took her little ones a small gift when she'd been away from home for the day. Today, it was a small box of scented crayons, with some color-your-own Christmas cards for them to make and send to their grandmothers and aunts. And Saffron, of course, but she wasn't going to give away the surprise. That was one of the things that she loved about her best friend; that she genuinely enjoyed getting her small childrens' art as much as she did.

"And, I'll love the couple of hours of quiet that I'll get while they work on them," she said with a wink.

"Brad sure is into books," she added, as they saw him coming out of the bookstore to meet them for lunch. "Nothing wrong with that, of course," she added. "I've never been interested in the all-brawn type.

"Like Mike Bero?" Saffron teased, mentioning the name of a football player who thought that anything other than football was a waste of time, including reading. Deidre had once had a big time crush on him for half of a school year.

She was rewarded with a pulled face, and an unladylike snort from her friend. Then, they both broke into a fit of laughter.

Saffron had noticed, too, that while Brad had popped in and out of a couple of other stores, he had spent most of his shopping time at Between the Covers & Beyond bookstore. He must enjoy books more than she had realized, to have spent the day predominantly in the window section of that one store.

They had bumped into him once, when he had stepped out to take a bag of books to the car, just as they were putting bags of presents in, as well. So, he was obviously finding what he wanted there.

When they found one of the restaurant's bistro-style tables open, and had ordered their sandwiches, Saffron felt an emotional squeeze in the area of her heart. Somehow, having Deidre and Brad with her here, together, on her favorite shopping day of the year, made it feel perfect. Better than perfect. As if she was spending her day with two of the three most important people in her life. Her brother being the third. Since when had Brad become so important to her?

The answer was that he couldn't have. She was merely suffering from a sappy holiday moment. But still, it felt like he was, she thought, watching he and Deidre have a lively conversation on the merits of slicing tomatoes vs. plum tomatoes on a sandwich.

Quietly sipping her lemonade, she stayed out of the conversation, thinking her own thoughts. Mostly they came down to feeling happy, but at the same time, as though she might be getting in over her head with Brad. Those thoughts were both troubling, and exhilarating.

**Chapter 14**

The next choir rehearsal was at Arlene's house, the redheaded, jingly-jangly woman that Brad had admired when he had first signed up to be a Christmas caroler.

"Hey, Brad," she said, coming up to him in what he now recognized to be her typical no-nonsense fashion. "How is your visit going? How do you like our little community?"

"I'm really enjoying it. And, uhm, feeling stronger all the time," he added, remembering to include his cover story.

Arlene's eye's narrowed. "Walk with me," she said, touching his arm for a moment as she led the way to a quiet corner of her den, away from the throng of carolers talking and eating.

"Brad, may I be frank with you?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Certainly," he said, his mind racing ahead, trying figure out what she was about to say.

"I like you," she continued, "and I'm sure that you're a great guy. If I didn't think so, I would have said something to Saffron."

Brad gave a single incline of his head in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything, since he knew that she wasn't finished. He just returned her direct look, waiting.

"However," she said, turning a ring on her finger, "I think that this whole business about you needing a respite, and being rundown, is bull.

"Let me finish," she cut off anything that he might have said, though he hadn't actually planned to interrupt. He should have known that Arlene was too sharp by far, and had the personality to call him out on whatever was bothering her.

"You can certainly correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that there's anything rundown about you; mentally or physically. What I would like to know is, why are you saying that there is?

"You're apparently a friend of Dave's, but how long have you known one another? Really, Brad, why are you here? I'm only asking because my friend, who lives alone, has taken a man that no one knows into her home." She tilted her head, making her tiny bell earrings tinkle.

"In one way, more power to her. But something just doesn't add up about the whole thing.

"As I said, if my spidey senses tingled around you, and I thought for a minute that you were a danger to Saff, I would have spoken up immediately. What do you say about telling me what's going on? Something **_is_** tingling my spidey senses, Brad. Not you, but something, and I think that you know what it is. If you would share with me, maybe I could help in some way."

And with that, she shut her mouth firmly, and waited for him to come clean.

He knew that he was in a dangerous place right now. She would probably be a good ally, but if he said anything to her about his true purpose for living with her friend, she would most likely carry it right back to Saffron. Even if she didn't, he had a rule about having as few people knowing the details of his jobs as possible. There could be dangers to them, his clients, or even himself. Loose lips, and all that.

"You strike me as a good and loyal friend to Saffron, Arlene, and I can appreciate you worrying about her," he started. "Honestly, if one of my friends took in a stranger, I wouldn't be happy about it, either.

"In this case, though, your sense about me is right on the money. I'd never harm her in any way."

"Not even her heart?" Arlene interjected.

Brad let that go.

"And," he finished the speech that he'd formed in his mind as she'd spoken, "if anyone else tries to harm her, woe be to them." He looked into her eyes, letting his own go hard, and the truth of his words settle over her. "I'm here to help, but I can't tell you what you want to know."

She shook her head in approval, obviously believing his sincerity. "Okay, for now we'll leave it at this. But, Brad,"

"Yes?"

"If you change your mind about talking to me, don't hesitate to get in touch. I care about my friend, I have resources, and I don't gossip," she said, as if reading his mind. "But goodness help you if you're lying to me," she threw in at the end.

"Thanks, Arlene. Fair enough. I'll keep you in mind. Really." He looked at her for another moment, his face still serious.

"Alright then," she said, patting him on the shoulder like a big sister, seeming at least semi-satisfied. "Let's go sing."

* * *

After choir practice that day, Saffron, true to her earlier word, suggested that they go to The Cove for fish and chips. She'd already made him the best rosemary chicken that he'd ever eaten, after he'd skipped it for dinner the night that they'd eaten there with Buddy.

Funny thing was, he hadn't seen Mr. Arrogant since that night. He would have thought that a man who cared, even moderately, about a woman would have been more persistent. He sure as heck would have been. Especially with a woman like Saffron.

The fish and chips at The Cove were delicious; tender inside, and crispy on the outside, and the company was perfect. As usual, he was enjoying spending time with Saffron, but he couldn't seem to quell the thoughts that never strayed far from the back of his mind.

The people who were threatening her, first and foremost, and now Arlene voicing what he'd been concerned that people might be thinking all along. How long until someone else confronted him? Or worse, went to Saffron with their concerns?

"Would you like dessert?" Saffron asked with a smile that made him feel things that he'd rather not. Things that he hadn't felt in a very long time. Perhaps had never felt.

He would eat sawdust to sit here relaxing with her for a while longer, so he said yes. To him, the time spent with her was the treat, not the desserts that they ordered. If only this wasn't a job. He'd been thinking about that a lot lately, and wasn't at all thrilled with the direction that his mind had been taking him in. It was wrong in every way possible for him to have feelings and desires for Saffron.

They'd been talking about everything under the sun since arriving, and it had been some of the best conversation that he'd had in a long while. Not only was she beautiful, but she was also thoughtful, interesting and, well, special in every way. They'd talked about history, the architecture of the renovated restaurant, the last movies that they'd each seen, their tastes in books, and even favorite vacation spots. It seemed that they shared a fondness for the mountains.

"It doesn't matter what season it is," she'd said wistfully, "the mountains have so much to offer."

"I agree. Have you been often?"

"Oh, yes!" she'd enthused. "I've gone fishing, trail riding, sledding, hiking, and just kicked back feeding the squirrels. What a great way to relax. Nature walks, a good book, and a mug of cocoa."

And, that's when the seed of an idea had taken hold, right over his slice of mile-high, cloud-tender, lemon meringue pie.

**Chapter 15**

In the days since she and Brad had eaten lunch at The Cove, there had been a whirlwind of activity in Saffron's life, as usual, and Brad had been right in the thick of it. By now, she had gotten used to having him near, and dare she even think it - enjoyed having him there.

He still made it hard for her to breathe when he stood too close to her, and her heart continued to insist on doing a double tattoo when they were in the car together, but for the most part, she was enjoying his company tremendously. She hadn't enjoyed the days and weeks leading up to Christmas this much in years.

The caroling at the community tree lighting had been fantastic, and the photos that she'd taken of the Douglas family on the beach had been delivered, and very well received. They had included a Christmas gift in her check, and a basket of several jars of their own honey. She loved small towns.

She was currently trying to wrap a gift for Brad in one of the rare moments that he had gone out without her, when the phone rang.

"Of all the times . . ."

Untangling herself from the mess of paper and tape that she'd created, she hoped that whoever it was would let it ring until she got to the phone. Reaching it on the fifth ring, she picked it up and fell onto the couch at the same time.

"Hello?"

"How's my favorite sister?"

"Dave! Where are you? Can you make it home for Christmas?"

Her brother chuckled. "Not so fast, Sis. Let's see, I'm still at work, buuuut . . ." he said quickly, "how would you like to spend Christmas day in the mountains with me?"

Saffron fought the urge to squeal like a school girl, and sat up straight. "Really? That would be great! I was so afraid that you wouldn't be home again this year."

"I'll tell you what I was thinking.." he replied, a smile in his voice.

* * *

By the time that Brad got home, Saffron was lying in wait for him, giving him until he had actually closed the front door before pouncing.

"How would you like to go to the mountains for a few days?" she asked without preamble.

"Mountains? Well, I love the mountains, as you know, but maybe you'd better be a little more specific," he said, reaching nonchalantly for a mug. "How about we talk over tea?" he asked. "It's pretty nippy out there."

"Cranberry-tangerine for me, please," she agreed, reaching to put the kettle on.

In a few minutes they were settled at the table, and she continued.

"Dave called, and said that he rented a cabin for a week as a Christmas surprise. He meant to spend the week here," she elaborated, "but now he can't be here until Christmas Eve."

Brad nodded, taking a drink of tea thoughtfully.

"And, he wants you to go on ahead?" he asked, meeting her eyes as he set down his forest green mug.

"Yes," she said, noticing that he seemed a little down.

"I should probably find a hotel for Christmas," he said in a rather quiet voice. "When will you be leaving?"

While Saffron hadn't been sure of what to do about Brad when Dave had first broached his idea, it had taken her only moments to come to the conclusion that he should, of course, come along. Looking into his stoic face now, her heart almost broke as she realized that he thought that she was only being polite in inviting him along on a family trip.

She hated the thought of abandoning him to a cold hotel room for Christmas, and hoped that he would accept their invitation.

"We were hoping that you would join us," she said, reaching out spontaneously to cover his large, strong hand with her much smaller one. "You will, won't you?"

Brad had a difficult time looking into the emotion-filled eyes that looked up into his own. He felt like a cad and a fraud. Heck, he _was_ a cad and a fraud. He took a slightly shaky breath, which was very real, due to her hand being on his, and said the most truthful thing that he had since arriving, "I would love to spend Christmas with you . . . and Dave," he added quickly, "in the mountains."

That he had called Dave, and given him the choice of renting a cabin away from home, and the imminent dangers here, or telling his sister the truth, immediately, was something that he wasn't going to think about right now. He was doing what he thought was best for Saffron, and that was the most important thing to him.

* * *

Another flurry of activity followed, and they decided not to postpone the trip, but to leave the next morning. Deidre and Arlene agreed to share the task of feeding the birds and fish while they were at the cabin, and both came by that evening for house keys.

Deidre brought Mite along, and the toddler was as completely enamored with Brad as she was with her Auntie Saf-Saf. When he walked, she walked right behind him, and when he sat down on the couch, she climbed up and sat so close that they were touching.

_Me, too_ , Saffron thought, watching Mite give Brad a look of complete adoration.

Not long after they left, Mite and Prince Paula's handmade cards centered on the refrigerator in place of pride, Arlene breezed in. While there, she wanted to double check who got what, how often, and how much. As she and Saffron headed into the room with the birds and fish, Arlene looked over her shoulder, giving Brad a questioning look, her arched brows raised.

Before she left, calling back, "Have fun kids. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do!" she looked at him one last time. It was a look which clearly wanted to know what was going on, but, she didn't ask. She was staying true to her word on trusting him, but he could tell that she was not entirely happy with being out of the loop. Someday, he thought, he would owe her an explanation.

Someday, he realized a little sadly, when Saffron found out the truth, and all heck broke loose, she would hear about it from her. How he'd lied, and broken trust. Well, he thought, hardening his heart, it couldn't be helped. Better an unharmed and unhappy Saffron than the option.

As each had left, Saffron had packed off their leftovers with them, since they wouldn't be home to eat them, and then filled an orange box with non-perishables to take with them to the cabin. Salt, sugar, cinnamon, and hot cereal rubbed shoulders with tea, cookies, potatoes and other items. They put the box on the couch with their coats, gloves, and other cold-weather clothing that they would wear on the trip.

Brad hated that people would see that they were leaving, but couldn't find any way around it, with Saffron's car being parked on the street. Maybe they weren't being watched 24/7. The one solace that he had, was that once they got off the main drag, he would be able to see if they were being followed. He couldn't wait. It was about time that things turned around and he had the upper hand.

* * *

Starting early in the morning, they took turns driving, switching whenever they stopped to stretch their legs. Saffron loved road trips, and could see that Brad felt the same excitement in the air that she did.

The farther they traveled away from where they'd come, the more trees and fewer populated areas there were. The air went from chilly in the morning, to sharply cold by lunch time, as if there were ice crystals in the air around them. Then, as the elevation continued to rise, small amounts of snow began appearing on the ground here and there.

"Isn't that beautiful?"

Saffron said it with so much enthusiasm that Brad laughed.

"What?" she asked, sliding her eyes to him for a nanosecond, before looking back at the road ahead.

"Spoken like a true Californian," he chuckled.

"That's not true," she defended herself, "Lots of people who live where it snows all the time think that it's beautiful."

"Yes, that's true," he admitted, still smiling.

"Well, okay," she conceded, smiling back. "I guess that I do treat snow like some relatives."

"Relatives?"

"Yes, fun to visit, but just in small doses. Then you go home when you get tired of them."

"You have more of my quirky sense of humor than you let on," he said, grinning.

* * *

When they finally arrived in Bluebird, the last town before the cabin that they were staying in, they saw that it boasted only five buildings - a postage stamp sized post office; a small, low-slung supermarket; a fully enclosed bar that had a rock wall at the bottom of the building; a quiet looking cafe with only two cars in the parking lot, and a junk shop with everything from old washing machines in the lot, to hubcaps hanging on the fence at it's entrance. They had to pick up the cabin key here, so had decided, at the beginning of their trip, to eat lunch at the cafe, and then buy their perishable groceries at the market.

The Bluebird Cafe, a classic that didn't look like it had changed much in the last 50 years, was warm, friendly, and inviting. A bell rang over their heads when they walked in, and a pleasant, middle-aged waitress greeted them.

Saffron loved the retro-cafe with it's red vinyl booths, single-sheet, photo covered menus, and the red and white gingham curtains tied back with white eyelet lace.

A radio played Christmas songs in the background, and after a very good lunch of patty melts and onion rings, Lucille, their waitress, presented them with a white bag. It was stamped all over with red Santas and candy canes, and inside were a pair of freshly made donuts topped with chocolate icing, and red and green sprinkles.

"Merry Christmas!" she said enthusiastically. "Come back soon!"

Feeling refreshed and happy after their pleasant cafe experience, they headed across the street to the small, but well-stocked supermarket. They were filling their cart with fruits, vegetables, and dairy items, when Saffron stopped suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Brad froze, and looked around them quickly, as if the answer might be nearby.

"What should we do for dinner on Christmas Eve and Christmas?"

She hadn't really thought about it yesterday, when she'd agreed to meet Dave at the cabin, but there would be 3 of them for the holiday dinners, and she had no idea what pots and pans would be at the cabin, so wasn't sure what she would be able to cook.

"Well, what do you usually have?" Brad asked, relaxing, and standing patiently, noticing that the subject seemed to have caused Saffron some stress.

"The usual, with the trimmings, but . . ."

"But . . .?" he prompted.

"It requires a lot of pots and pans, which I'm not sure that we'll have at the cabin."

"Would you be disappointed at having something else?" he asked gently.

He didn't want to see her going into a vacation with something like this bothering her. He'd be happy with a couple of boxes of Pop Tart's, personally. As long as he could spend the time with her. But he wouldn't say so, of course. Besides, this wasn't about him, it was about her making things nice for her brother.

"After all," he continued, "the holidays are as much about who you spend them with as anything."

His look sent a little shiver from the top of her head to the very bottoms of her feet.

Then, as if realizing what he was saying, he added, "Having Dave with you will be the most important thing, right?"

"There's nothing wrong with starting new food traditions," she agreed slowly, not really wanting to talk about who it would be special to spend the holiday with. She was ridiculously happy to be spending it with _him_ ** _,_** truth be known, and wasn't going to go there, either with him, or herself.

"Let me make the Christmas Eve dinner," he said suddenly.

Saffron was speechless for a moment. "You don't have to do that," she replied, when she'd recovered from the unexpected offer.

"I want to," he assured her in that low, smooth voice of his. He took a step closer as he said it.

She wanted to step back, to put more space between them in the small aisle, because she was finding it suddenly difficult to have coherent thoughts with him this close, but she made herself stay where she was.

"All right," she said, annoyed by the slight unsteadiness in her voice, "what would you like to make?"

"My Famous Christmas Eve Stew," he smiled beatifically.

"That sounds perfect," she said, noticing that her voice was stronger this time. "How about lasagna for Christmas dinner? With garlic toast, salad, and Christmas cake?"

"I wish that Christmas dinner was tonight," he said, his smile genuinely warm. Was it her, or the idea of lasagna? He liked food, but knew that it had nothing to do with pasta, no matter how much he was looking forward to it.

She sighed with relief as they moved apart to shop for what they each needed for their prospective meals.

Brad had a difficult time concentrating on finding the ingredients that he needed, after having been close enough to kiss Saffron, and having had the overwhelming urge to do so. It was going to be a long few days, he thought, picking up some organic carrots. He stopped, looked at his choice, and sighed. He was becoming an honorary Californian.

But, at least he'd thought of a new name for his Killer-Ass Stew.

**Chapter 16**

The higher Saffron's car climbed into the mountains, the deeper the snow got. As they neared the cabin, the trees were frosted completely white, and ordinary items, such as patio furniture and barbecues, appeared as barely discernible white lumps in yards along the way.

When they finally pulled up to their destination, Brad was pleased to see that it had been at least two miles since they had passed another dwelling. Hopefully, this week would give the FBI time to find their targets, with Saffron safely out of the way. It wasn't a safe house, per se, but it was the closest thing that he could come up with to it.

He walked around the house, saying that he wanted to see how much cut wood there was for the fireplace. Actually, he wanted to check for signs of anyone having been around recently, as well as committing the lay of the land to memory. All he found, besides a good store of cut wood, were a few deer prints, and the impressions of small feet in the snow, perhaps made by a squirrel.

Once satisfied, he rejoined Saffron, who was unlocking the front door with the key that they'd picked up in Bluebird. The supermarket manager cum local real estate agent had expected them, and brought it to work with him. Effortlessly tossing his duffel bag over his shoulder, Brad left the other items in the car until he'd had a chance to look through the cabin. He'd hate to be surprised with his arms full.

Looking through the airy cabin took little time. There were three bedrooms and a bath in the back - all clear, he noted quickly. The front of the cabin, sporting a great room, with no walls to speak of to separate it from the kitchen and the dining area, was able to be taken in at a glance.

Convinced that they were alone, he began unpacking the car. For once, he thought, lifting a box of gifts that still needed to be wrapped, he could breathe easy. Not too easy, of course, he was on duty no matter where they were, but easier than he had in the busy little town that they'd left that morning.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath of chilly air, Brad looked around appreciatively before heading back into the cabin. The wilderness view was spectacular, he thought, his mood rising several notches. As he admired the large trees, and their mountain peak backdrop, his eyes fell on Saffron, a view that he appreciated even more than the postcard perfect one that he'd been enjoying.

Sunlight had kissed and highlighted the soft hair that he longed to run his fingers through, and she was squinting her blue eyes a little as the sun sparkled off of the fresh, white snow. A half smile was playing around her tempting mouth, and she looked delighted with, what was for her, a rare weather condition. Snow.

He hated that, beyond his attraction to Saffron, he felt a cozy warmth spread to his core at the thought of spending Christmas with her. Guys didn't _do_ cozy. Did they? He hoped that whatever his problem was, that he'd get it - and her - out of his system before it was time to pack up this job and go home.

* * *

Saffron was enchanted with the cabin. Dave had found just the right one, she thought, gazing at the A-framed cabin that looked like it belonged in the Alps. It had a beautiful deck running completely around it, with a porch that would be perfect to relax and bird watch from.

There were even lamppost-style feeders to attract birds to the spot. They had holiday garlands wrapped around them, matching the ones that decorated the round porch rails. The outdoor, holiday decor was completed with a large wreath adorning the front door. Pine cones and red bows were the theme.

Inside, the cabin had beautiful, warm, golden knotty pine walls and cabinetry, with soothing, mossy green and rich brown throughout. The comfortable looking furnishings were in soft cream, with colorful quilts and cross-stitched pillows dotting color throughout.

The kitchen wasn't overly large, but it was bright, modern, and more than adequate for their purposes. The small table in it would be equally useful as a breakfast spot, and an extra work space.

Truth be known, the 'dining area' was just a spot next to the kitchen with a dining room table and chairs on it. Beyond that was the great room. Saffron loved it's vaulted ceiling and good-sized fireplace. The stone hearth had the inviting, overstuffed couches and chairs cleverly half circling it, making her long to stop and curl up with a book there.

Exploring, she found three bedrooms in the back part of the house. Each one had a single bed in it - covered with what looked like a homemade quilt, a runner covered bureau, and a small desk . . . complete with pen and paper on top. Making a quick decision, Saffron chose the one closest to the bathroom. She preferred to make her trips to the shower and back as quick as possible on cold mornings, and without having to cross in front of anyone else's door.

Not lingering after making her choice, she left her suitcase on the bed and went back into the kitchen to unpack the perishables. She'd always been amazed at how much food you had to pack when you wouldn't be going to the store for a week.

"You don't have to do that," she said, finding Brad already filling the 'fridge with meat and dairy items.

"Why not?" he asked, as if he found her statement strange. "I don't mind doing my share. Besides, I eat, too."

It was hard to argue with that kind of logic. The only problem for Saffron was how intimate it felt, working side by side with him in the small kitchen. She found it difficult to breathe when they accidentally brushed up against one another.

That night, they ate a satisfying dinner of baked potatoes with various toppings, including a local cheese that they'd decided to try, sour cream and chives, along with a green salad on the side. They each drank a glass of red wine that had been left for them by the cabin's owner. The bottle had been waiting for them on the table with a bow tied around it's neck, and a note of welcome leaning against it.

The meal had been good, and as they sat in front of the roaring fire afterward, the excitement of the day seemed to catch up with Saffron all at once. She felt the warmth from the fire, the glass of wine she'd drunk, and the comforting food that she'd eaten begin to pull her down into a groggy state. She knew that she should get up and go to bed, but she was just so darned warm, and comfortable . . .

"You look tired, sweetheart," she heard Brad say from his place near her on the couch _. _

_Yes, absolutely she should get up and go to her room_. But, she didn't.

She felt Brad move closer, then wrap an arm around her. It felt wonderful. He was warm, and she fit perfectly against him. She realized that she'd started to doze when she was startled by him pulling her a little closer, and covering her with the quilt that had been folded over the back of the couch.

_Yes, she was going to move now. Definitely. In just a second._

* * *

Something was in her eyes, Saffron thought, shutting them even tighter. What was it? Light. Sunlight. Opening one eye tentatively, she saw that the curtain to her bedroom window was open just a little, and that sunlight had found the crack and was shining right into her eyes through it. Groaning, she threw her arm up over her face to block it.

Bedroom window? Wracking her brain, she tried to remember coming into her room last night, but couldn't. She sure as heck couldn't remember getting into bed . . .

Suddenly, she was wide awake, and it registered that the arm over her eyes was covered in the same shirt that she'd worn on the their drive yesterday.

Sitting up, she realized that she was actually wearing all of the same clothes that she had yesterday, sans her shoes, she noted, wiggling her toes. Also, she was between her sheets, and under the blanket.

No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't remember all of last night. They'd had dinner, with a glass of the complimentary red wine that had been waiting for them, something that she wasn't used to, then had sat in front of a fantastic fire. She'd felt drowsy, then Brad had put an arm and quilt around her . . . and that was it. Now she was in her own bed. Had she gotten here on her own? At least she was still dressed, she thought, jumping up and gathering some clean clothes out of her suitcase . . . . that was now across the room, before heading in for a quick shower.

* * *

Once again, Brad had been up for hours. This was becoming a bad habit, he thought. But, he'd had an understandably difficult time sleeping after having held Saffron's warm body against his own last night. He'd have liked nothing better than to have spent some intimate time with her, but she had been exhausted. Probably from the weeks that she hadn't slowed down for even a minute, he'd bet.

The glass of wine and warm fire had, apparently, been the tipping point for her to get the sleep that she needed. He wasn't the kind of guy to take advantage of such a situation, and he hadn't, but that didn't mean that he had been able to sleep after carrying her to her bed, and tucking her in.

When he heard her rustling about, and the door to the shower, he stood from where he was having a hot cup of coffee to make up for his own lack of sleep, filled a kettle with water, put her favorite mug on the table, then checked the oven.

By the time that Saffron stepped into the great room, and worked her way over to the kitchen, the smell of fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls filled the house with their inviting scent.

"Something smells good," she said in a friendly manner. But, she looked a little wary this morning, he noticed.

He'd already wondered how to handle last night. Should he mention having put her to bed? He'd finally decided not to bring it up unless she did, in case she felt embarrassed by it. Instead, he was just going to act as if nothing unusual had happened. As if he hadn't felt her body close to his, or breathed in her delicious, unique scent for several long minutes in front of the fire before lifting her up into his arms, and taking her down the hall to her room.

"I can't take much credit," he said humbly, "they're frozen. But, I thought it would be a nice treat on our first morning here. Would you like tea with yours?" he asked, gesturing to the kettle on the stove, and hoping that he looked as casual as he was trying to.

"Yes, thanks," she said, stepping closer.

He'd once read that the scent of cinnamon made people feel more relaxed, and encouraged buying. That it was a suggested scent for people showing their homes for sale. The only thing that he was selling was himself, and he sure could do with a little goodwill from her after what must have been an awkward moment; waking up in bed and realizing how she must have gotten there. He could have made her more comfortable by removing some of her clothes, but he wanted her to still like him this morning, so he had shoved that thought away as soon as it had entered his narrow little mind, and simply removed her shoes.

She stepped around and reached into the orange box for some raspberry tea, while he put on a hot mitt and pulled out the rolls, setting them on the kitchen table.

"I'm impressed," she smiled at him. "This is wonderful."

Yes, she looked a lot more relaxed, he thought, watching her lean in and inhale deeply. What do you know, it was working.

_Note to self: buy a case of cinnamon._

After hot, sticky cinnamon rolls, apple wood smoked chicken bacon, tea and orange juice, they decided to explore outside.

They had each brought waterproof boots to go over their shoes, warm coats, and gloves. Saffron added a rather cute, he thought, knitted cap to her ensemble, and they headed off of the deck and into the forest, where she picked up a few pine cones and acorns as they went.

"I was wondering," she said, after they had walked to the other end of the main road, "what you think about putting up a Christmas tree? I found, in the owner's instructions, where to find trees that are going to be cut this coming spring, anyway. They're growing too close to power lines. The only problem is . . ." She stopped to pick up another pine cone, so Brad stood still, waiting for her to catch up. ". . . we don't have any decorations for one."

She was dazzled by his grin. "That's not a problem, sweetheart, I think we can make do. I am a man of many talents."

That was the second time that he'd called her sweetheart, and it made her reign up short. He said it so naturally, and it sounded so right. It also made her heart pound a little harder, and her stomach clench. She certainly didn't want to think about his 'many talents.'

Following the directions that the owner of the cabin had left, they looked at the trees that would no longer be there after the power company removed them in the spring, walking around and around each one until they agreed on the perfect tree. Well, okay, so she chose the tree and he amiably agreed to it. He was really quite easy going, she realized. A very good sport. She liked that about him. Along with a hundred other little things, her traitorous heart added.

The rest of the day was spent finding a hand saw, putting together a makeshift Christmas tree stand, and then digging out some things that they could make decorations from, including some of her smaller pine cones. She discovered that a touch of clear nail polish with silver sparkles in it, applied to the edges, gave them a bit of twinkle and shine.

When they stopped for a sandwich around lunchtime, the tree was set up in a corner of the great room in a white, five gallon bucket filled with rocks to make it stable. It only needed to have a cloth wrapped around it.

"Actually," Brad said, as she brought over a pot of water to top off the bucket while he balanced the tree, "this is better than a regular tree stand, because we can fill it with enough water that it won't need daily tending to keep it from drying out."

"I would have never thought of it," she admitted, pouring the water into the rock-filled bucket. "Boy, does it smell good in here now," she said, standing back and inhaling deeply. "They should bottle this scent."

"They make those little hanging trees for the review mirrors in cars," Brad offered helpfully, which earned him a wrinkled nose.

"Those are just a bunch of chemicals, and don't smell anything like this," she informed him, breathing in another deep breath.

"Well, we could open a tree trimming service then," he said, keeping a straight face, "and use the trimmed limbs for room fresheners. Mind you, they would take a lot more room, but it would smell good!"

Saffron chuckled at the image.

"See," he said, looking pleased, "I knew that you had my sense of humor!"

"Back to work, slacker," she laughed, handing him a cloth to wipe the outside of the bucket with. She would rather not think about the fact that they did seem to have a similar sense of humor, not to mention dozens of other small things in common. It was a pointless line of thought.

The rest of the day was spent cutting out colorful pages from old magazines, as well as some of the wrapping paper that she'd brought along, and using lots of tape, glue, cardboard, and aluminum foil.

* * *

By the end of the first day, they were working side by side like a well-oiled machine, and Brad had never had such a good time doing something that was 100% 'G' rated. Cutting up paper and cardboard. This was getting ridiculous.

By the time it got dark, they found themselves sitting by the fire, once again.

"How about some popcorn strands?" Brad asked, as he looked with satisfaction at the Christmas tree that was starting to take shape.

"Only if we make enough to eat!"

"Of course, I definitely want my cut."

"Dave will love this," she said, heading to the kitchen before he had even moved.

Tonight, Saffron wasn't even the slightest bit drowsy, and enjoyed making, stringing, and eating the popcorn with Brad. When they wrapped the strands around the tree, their hands had touched several times, and she'd felt electric sparks run through her body.

Yes, she had kept away from relationships after her last miserably failed one, and that could explain her reactions to Brad. But, being truthful with herself, she had never felt this way with Charles or Buddy, or anyone else for that matter. It could still be a rush of hormones, plus the right time and place and all that, but she was beginning to think that there was just a chemistry between them. More than that, she actually liked him as a person. Hadn't she liked Charles and Buddy? She'd thought so . . .

She could see, far too easily, spending a lot more time with Brad. Maybe forever. And that scared the heck out of her, because she didn't want that complication in her life right now. Did she?

It didn't help when they had a great time making a snowman together the next day, followed by some breathless time sledding together, her sitting in front of him, his arms wrapped tightly around her. She'd hesitated at first, but they'd ended up finding a terrific hill to slide down, stopping just long to catch their breath periodically, and have mugs of chicken noodle soup that she'd brought along in a Thermos.

"What are you doing?" she asked, mid-way through pulling off her gloves a couple of hours later. She'd come around the corner to find Brad patting together a small snowman, right off of the porch.

"Making a snowman. You're supposed to make at least one totally unconventional snowman a year," he elaborated, pulling his hands along the snowman's head. "Normally, it's the work of a drunk cousin at a holiday get-together. But, without having one of them up my sleeve, thank goodness," he continued, "I figured that I would do the honors."

"A tradition?" Saffron had never heard of it.

"Oh yeah, big time," he assured her, making the snowman's face decidedly pointed. "Well, with the people I know, anyway," he added.

After that, she went into the house to change into dry clothes after Brad had said that he'd call her when he was done. A short while later, while she was washing out the Thermos, he came to the door to tell her that he'd finished. Drying her hands on the kitchen towel next to her, she stepped out of the door to look at what he'd done.

"Our winter mascot," Brad said, moving from in front of the snowman. Rather, snowbird. He had made a bird from snow, using bits of fruit, nuts and seeds to highlight wing edges, eyes, and the beak.

"That's great," Saffron breathed, duly impressed. It really did look like a bird. "Do you usually have birds as your non-traditional snowman?" she asked.

He chuckled quietly, and she felt warmth spread through her at the sound.

"No, I've never seen a bird snowman before," he said, feeling his heart beat a little faster at the look in her eyes. He didn't want to feel what he was feeling, but didn't seem to have the power to stop it.

"Usually," he smiled at her, mostly because he couldn't help it, "we have to dismantle the non-traditional snowman, or woman, pretty quickly, before the younger family members get a gander of it."

"People made snowmen that kids couldn't see?" She was beginning to understand what he was saying.

"There was usually a fair bit of eggnog . . . not the kiddie kind . . . involved in the motivation for said cousins to go outside and make an anatomically correct snow person," he explained.

"Ah, I see." And, she did. She knew people who got pretty happy with adult cider or eggnog, too, during holiday celebrations.

They'd then worked together in the kitchen making an easy dinner that they'd eaten in front of the fire afterward, while making plans for Christmas breakfast, and placing the foil-over-cardboard star on the top of their tree together.

By the end of day three at the cabin, Saffron knew that she was in deep trouble. She wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure that she had fallen in love with Brad Smith.

**Chapter 17**

Brad spent another night getting very little sleep, as he thought about his situation. He liked Saffron. Really liked her. Enough so that he'd decided that he was going to have to tell her the truth about what he was doing in her life. That scared the hell out of him. But, they couldn't even begin to explore the possibility of a relationship, if she was even interested, of course, without complete openness. This lie couldn't stay between them forever.

Even if he could live with it, someday it would come out, cause a lot of pain, and possibly a rift. He would give it until after Christmas, and then, end of the job or not, he would tell her the truth. He would tell Dave his plan ahead of time, of course, that was only fair, but it still had to be done. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't come clean, even if she wasn't interested in him. Which was not a thought that he liked at all.

Little did he know how timely his decision was.

The day had begun well enough. It had snowed heavily all night, and was still snowing in the morning, so they had decided to spend the day inside, each wrapping the gifts that they'd brought along. He'd chosen his bedroom to wrap in, since he had gifts for her that he didn't want her to see.

Generally, he wasn't in his room very much, aside from going to bed at night, and if he hadn't been wrapping presents in there now, he wouldn't have seen the shadow cross his bedroom window.

On his feet in an instant, he located Saffron, still at the dining room table where she'd chosen to finish wrapping her gifts. Quickly, and soundlessly, he made his way to her.

"Get down," he hissed quietly, pulling her in that direction as he said it, then pushed her gently, but firmly, toward the underside of the table. He could see that she wanted to protest, but he put his finger to his lips to silence her. Crouching with her, as she crawled under the table with confusion in her wide blue eyes, he looked at her, and spoke so low that the words were almost soundless. No one else could have heard them.

"Stay here. Please. Please," he repeated when he thought that she might yet argue. "I'm fine. Stay here."

He'd been looking out of the banks of windows, trying to see something. Anything. Another shadow, a glint, anything. With them being quiet, he was also able to listen. For footfalls, creaking deck boards, something that he could hone in on.

Then, he heard it. A noise at the back door. Quietly, he made his way to the service porch, focusing completely. He realized his mistake too late when he heard the sound of the front door bursting open. It had been a ruse, something merely tossed towards the back door, probably, to get him away from Saffron.

In that sickening split second after the door crashed open, he was back in the main room, but it was too late. Saffron was standing against a wall, staring with fearful eyes at a tall, pale man with buzz cut hair. And, a gun in his hand.

**Chapter 18**

Saffron was petrified, and feeling dangerously dizzy. First, Brad had practically shoved her under the table, and then a man dressed all in black had burst into the house.

She'd leapt out from under the table to run to the back of the house to Brad, or to lock herself in her room, or something . . . she actually wasn't quite sure what her plan had been; perhaps more of a fight or flight response than conscious thought, when the man, who had a gun, had blocked her path and pointed the weapon directly at her. She could see in his eyes, which seemed completely devoid of emotion, that he would probably use it, so she had stopped in her tracks.

In that same moment Brad had come back into the room. He looked calm, she thought in a detached way. How could he feel calm when a strange man was in the house? Pointing a gun at her.

After he strolled a couple of steps into the room, the man with the gun tensed up and said forcefully, "Stop!"

Brad did as he was told, but just for a moment, and then he took another step forward. She looked at him, willing him with her eyes not to trifle with the man, who was surely crazy.

"I'm not kidding, Smith," the man spoke again. "I'll shoot your lady love here if you don't stay where you are." His tone was almost taunting.

Brad made her nervous by smiling. Yes, actually smiling, at the gunman. And then, he did something that she knew that she wouldn't forget for the rest of her days. He leaped, like a panther, right between her and the gun. What was he doing, trying to get himself shot?!

The gunman laughed, a humorless sound that made her stomach lurch.

"You can't save her that way, lover boy. I'll just shoot you first, and then . . .

Brad never let the gunman finish his sentence. He moved towards the man, fast, using both his hands and feet. It looked a lot like something out of a Chuck Norris movie. The gun went off; she had no idea in what direction, and Brad broke at least two separate bones on the gunman. She was surprised that she had been able to hear the sickening cracks of the bones after the deafening sound of the shot. She'd never before considered what breaking a bone would sound like, she thought, and wondered if she was suffering shock for that thought to be in her mind at this time.

And then, it was just . . . over. With the gunman in a heap on the floor, the gun across the room where Brad had kicked it when it had been dropped, and herself still frozen in place, feeling rather nauseous.

"Get the gun," Brad said with a deadly calm that she couldn't even imagine, and something else. Some kind of underlying emotion that she might not have actually heard. "And the roll of rope and duct tape from the service porch. I'll keep an eye on our guest."

Brad knew that the back door was locked, and he prayed that the man at his feet had come alone. But, he wouldn't be happy until this one was tied up so he could look around for footprints, and other telltale signs of another person.

**Chapter 19**

Once the sheriff had arrived for his package of one trussed up gunman, and they had given their statements, Saffron learned something that had floored her.

Brad was not a man that needed a vacation, as her brother had told her. He was a bodyguard for hire, essentially. To guard her body, specifically.

_She felt so stupid. _

All of the times that he had done things with her, gone places with her . . . she'd thought that he'd enjoyed doing them, but all along he'd just been doing them because he'd had to. Had been hired to. It had been his **_job_**. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. How could she not have realized? How could she have so recently entertained the idea that she might be falling in love with Brad Smith, all around good guy?

She would have gotten in her car right then, and left, but the sheriff had said that he would be back for further statements, and evidence, and that they would have to come down to the station afterward. She was stuck here. But she didn't have to talk to Brad right now. She couldn't.

He had tried to talk to her while they were waiting for the sheriff to arrive, after telling her the truth, but her head had been buzzing from the trauma of what had just happened, and the realization of why he'd really been staying with her.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ ** _,_** she chastised herself for the hundredth time.

But, she wasn't just down on herself in this thing. No way, _Jose._ Surely there had been a time, at some point, when he might have told her his true purpose for being there. She would not have been thrilled at the original subterfuge, but she would have gotten over it. Wouldn't she have?

As for Dave, they needed to talk. Big time. She knew that he had been afraid for her well-being, but shouldn't he _, shouldn 't either of them_ ** _,_ **have thought that it might, just _possibly_ , have been a good idea to let her know that she was in danger? She was not feeling loved right now, and aside from all of the other emotions that Brad's confession had evoked, there was also a simmering anger at he, and her brother. Plus, a lot of hurt.

When she thought about all of the times that she'd gone out on her porch, into the backyard, and other places, alone, and without a clue, it gave her cold chills. She might have paid the ultimate price for their silence. She was just lucky that she hadn't, considering that the men after her carried guns.

This also explained a few other things, she realized, trying to let the reality of the situation really soak in. Such as the night that her snowman had been defaced, and Brad's reaction to it. And, how watchful he'd been whenever they went anywhere, when he thought that she wasn't looking.

She shook her head sadly. All they would have had to do was tell her. They'd both been wrong. Terribly wrong. And, to make it worse, she'd nearly put her heart on the line. Actually, she had already put her heart on the line, but no one else knew that, thank goodness. Even as she sat waiting for the sheriff, it was breaking.

After that, she spent her days trying to read books that she'd brought, and doing puzzles. Essentially, keeping to herself. Playing out in the snow no longer held any appeal for her, and looking at the tree that they'd put up, and had made the decorations for together, just made her sad.

At least Brad was respecting her privacy, not pushing it when she hadn't been feeling social.

Even though she wasn't happy with the decisions that he'd made, she was still looking forward to seeing Dave, so it was just one more disappointment when he got word to them that the weather back east was such that his flight would likely be canceled. He'd try to get to the cabin on the day after Christmas, though.

On Christmas Eve morning she awoke feeling even more depressed than she had the previous days. She almost rolled back over, not feeling any particular need to get out of bed, when she heard the sound of humming, and Christmas carols. It reminded her of that first morning with Brad in her house, only this time it wasn't her playing the music. Listening more closely, she could hear someone working in the kitchen. What on earth was the man up to?

Dressing without enthusiasm, she wandered into the kitchen to see a full-fledged meal being prepared at . . . she looked up at the wall clock . . . eight o'clock in the morning. And there, in the middle of the controlled chaos was Brad, looking more amazingly gorgeous than ever, which she hadn't thought possible.

He was wearing a deep green sweater with silvery reindeer across the front of his chest. The overall effect made his breadth look even more impressive than usual, and brought out the lights in that fantastic chestnut hair of his. She stood quietly for a moment to catch her breath, when he suddenly looked up and saw her. He gave her one of his brilliant smiles, as though someone had turned on a switch. Her breath hitched again.

She felt like she had to say something, but all she could come up with in her now-befuddled brain was, "What are you doing?"

"Making my Famous Christmas Eve Stew," he replied, efficiently slicing some peeled carrots with a French kitchen knife.

_Well, duh, Saffron,_ she thought, feeling stupid for having asked. She knew that she should go back into her room, but frankly, she'd missed his company, and didn't want to.

"I hope that you don't mind that I snipped a couple of your herbs before we left," he said, unwrapping some greenery as he spoke. "I thought that we might have them in eggs, or something."

"No, not at all. That's what they're there for. Uh, would you like any help?" She could see that he was doing quite well on his own, but he had a mound of things still to chop spread out.

He looked up then, from a sprig of fresh rosemary, and gave her yet another heart-stopping smile. It was warm and genuine, which confused her quite a bit. His job was finished, now that the FBI had confirmed that they'd arrested the rest of the men that were threatening she and her brother. Why, then, did he seem like the same Brad that she'd grown to know and . . . the same Brad that she had been spending time with for the past few weeks? Hadn't that all been an act, to keep her from guessing what he was actually doing with her?

"I'd love some help," he said in a deep, low voice that felt like warm syrup slowly running over her.

He handed her a knife, and told her how he needed each item cut. It felt good to be working with him again, especially on Christmas Eve, and she felt like crying at the shame of losing her potential future happiness. Well, she had a couple more days with him, and she would enjoy them as best she could with a broken heart, rather than lock herself away as she had been doing. It hadn't helped at all.

* * *

That night, they sat down to a truly delectable meal. Brad's Famous Christmas Eve Stew was superb, and they had a glass of the wine from the other night with it. She'd seen him cooking his meat in some beer that morning, before adding it to the pot, so had wondered if the wine would clash with the flavors, but it hadn't at all. It was a fantastic stew that had been rounded out nicely with pieces of delicious, chewy and hearty San Francisco sour dough bread.

After dinner they ate some Christmas fudge, then sat in front of the fire that Brad had coaxed to light just before their meal. It was the first time that they had sat together in front of the fire in some time. Had it only been three days? It seemed like much, much longer.

"You know," Brad said, relaxed, his long legs stretched in front of him, "in my family, the tradition is that each person gets to open one gift on Christmas Eve."

"That's the same tradition that we have in our family," she smiled wistfully, wishing that Dave was there with them.

"How about it, then?"

"How about what?" She looked at him suspiciously, then followed his gaze over to their Christmas tree. The same gifts that she'd put under it were there, along with one that she didn't recognize.

He smiled as soon as he saw her looking at the new package, a twinkle in his eyes. "Check it out, maybe it's got your name on it."

She wanted to resist, and not look too eager, but knew that her graceless decent to the floor to pick up the small silver and red package didn't give the impression of casualness that she was trying for. She also couldn't help the wide smile that she got when the little box did, indeed, have her name on it.

"Open it," he encouraged, sitting up and leaning forward. He looked almost as excited as she felt.

Carefully, she removed the ribbon, then untaped the end of the box.

"You're killin' me here," he complained good naturedly.

When the box was free from it's wrapping, she lifted up the lid, and a layer of cotton, to see an exquisite cloisonne pin inside. It was a blue bird that looked a lot like a finch. Like Bastion, in fact. It even had red lacquered cheeks.

"Model paint," he stated proudly, as she examined it. Apparently, he'd only been able to find a blue bird, and had added the red cheeks himself. He'd done a fantastic job.

"It's beautiful," she exclaimed, leaping up and throwing her arms around his neck. "Thank you!"

He hugged her for a long moment, then let her go, allowing her to move away if she wanted to, but instead of leaving, she stayed where she was.

"I bought it for you the day after we chased the finches."

He'd bought her this thoughtful gift back then? Was there a chance that . . . she couldn't make herself think it.

"I have something for you, too," she said, looking down at her shoes when she said it, then back up at him. He looked surprised. "It's back in my room, I'll be right back."

She hopped up, and dashed like a ten year old into her room to get the gift. There were two others, but she left them where they were.

Sitting back on the couch, though not quite as close to him as before, she handed him the flat gift, covered in hand stamped paper.

Without a word, he unwrapped it. For a moment, she wanted to snatch it back, and trade it in for one of the others. She hadn't been sure about this one to begin with. It had almost seemed too personal. Maybe even egotistical.

* * *

When he got to the framed picture, he just stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at her. He didn't think that he could talk for the lump that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat.

It was a photo of them taken with the Douglas' on the day of the photo shoot at the beach. He remembered then that the grandmother had insisted that they be in a couple of the photos, just to remember the day by, and that Saffron had taken them using a timer. What he hadn't known was how they would looked in them.

Their hair was being blown back slightly by the breeze, the ocean was to their backs, and they both seemed happy. Very happy. They were side by side, and seeing himself next to Saffron, his California girl, mesmerized him.

"It's a memento of your trip," she said quietly, looking at him steadily.

"I love it," he said quietly, the truth of his words in the depths of his eyes.

Then, without being able to help it another moment, not wanting to help it, he leaned over and kissed her. Deeply, and thoroughly. And she didn't stop him.

**Chapter 20**

The following afternoon, Christmas afternoon, Saffron and Brad were surprised when Dave showed up at the door. He was covered in snow, and had a bag of presents at his side. They were roasting chestnuts, and shredding cheese for the lasagna, when he knocked.

"Dave!" Saffron ran into his arms and hugged him tight. "I thought that you weren't going to be here until tomorrow?"

"Hi, Sis. Brad," he greeted them, stomping the snow off of himself before coming in. "The storm let up earlier than they expected. I see lasagna fixings," he added, noting the cheese and box of pasta on the table. "Will there be enough for one more at dinner?" he asked, taking a hot chestnut, and eating it. He pronounced it excellent.

"You bet," Saffron laughed at her food-oriented brother, all smiles.

Once he had peeled off his outerwear, they gather around the tree and Brad showed them how to play the sock game, as he'd promised Saffron he would at the mall. Getting three matching socks, he put a small gift in each.

"Usually, one gift is better than the others," he explained. "If you use money, one would have more in it. And, normally we play this on Christmas Eve."

Then, he brought in a beautiful copy of the book ' _Twas the Night Before Christmas_. He'd picked it up at the bookstore.

Opening it, he began to read it aloud with perfect inflections. He was really good, Saffron thought, feeling her heart swell.

As directed, each person held one sock, and whenever Brad read the word 'the' in the poem, they passed their sock clockwise to the person next to them. When the poem was finished being read, whatever sock each person held was the one that they got the gift from.

By the end of the game they were laughing from trying to keep up, and each had a small gift. A fancy pen for Dave, chocolate mints for Brad, and a chocolate reindeer for Saffron.

They decided to unwrap the gifts next, which Brad and Saffron had planned to save for the following day, when Dave had been expected to arrive.

There were favorite books all around, a new sweater for both Dave and Brad, a box of colored pencils for Saffron, and a glass and wooden box that Brad had made for her. He'd filled it with his beach-combing efforts; the pink seashells, the rock with the holes in it, and the boomerang shaped piece of driftwood, all nestled in sand, with pink edging. She admired it for a long time before she noticed her brother clearing his throat to get her attention.

She blinked. "Yes?"

"There's one more on the tree. It's from Santa. To you."

"From Santa to . . . Really?"

She furrowed her brow a little, and stepped over to the tiny package that was tied to a branch of the tree. She didn't recognize the paper.

Carefully she opened it to find a beautiful bracelet inside, with shell inlay that almost matched the shells in the box from Brad. Below it was a folded piece of paper.

"Is she always like this when she unwraps gifts?" Brad asked Dave.

"Always. It's enough to drive a man crazy."

"Enough, you two," she teased back, sitting down on the couch and unfolding the paper. She didn't recognize the writing, either.

' _Give Brad a chance, he loves you. Merry Christmas, Ho-Ho-Ho! Love, Mr. & Mrs. Claus, all the elves, and the reindeer, too._' it read.

She looked at it for a long moment, until she no longer could, her eyes becoming blurrier with tears the longer that she tried, until she finally stood, walked over to where Brad stood, and hugged him. She held on for what felt like dear life, burying her face in his chest. She didn't know how he'd done it, but . . .

"I love you, too," she said, breathlessly, his tight hug making it even harder to get the words out.

"I'll never keep anything from you again. Ever," he promised quietly, kissing her hair, her ear; whatever he could reach. "I hated every minute of it, and shouldn't have done it. I have no excuse, but hope that, in time, you can forgive me."

She kissed him then, letting her feelings shine through more clearly than words could have expressed them. _Yes, she forgave him._

"I hope that this won't stop us from having dinner on time, kids, 'cuz I think it's ready," Dave said finally, and they laughed, Saffron wiping away tears of happiness.

As they walked towards the beautifully set table, they were looking forward to their Christmas dinner, and all of the Christmases ahead of them. Together.

- THE END -
