Page 4 of Hawk and the Cougar

“What’s Emma to you?” he asked.

“She’s my daughter.”

He looked in her direction and raked his gaze down her in a quick but thorough appraisal. “Yeah, she’s a wonder kid, only seventeen, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for forty.”

“I’m not,” Liz snapped.

A corner of his mouth twitched. “No need to feel insulted. I said you looked younger.”

She wasn’t younger but was in no mood to explain—didn’t want to explain—which only infuriated her more.

“You’re a real sweet talker,” she muttered.

He laughed, a deep, rich laugh that filled the small space. “Cut me some slack. You caught me on a bad day.” He stopped at the street and looked left, then right.

“You can let me out here,” she said.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

Liz gave him a wary look.

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said. “If those men come back, you don’t want them making another run at you. They might not give up so easily.”

A tremor flipped her stomach. “Who are they?”

He turned left onto the street and released a slow breath. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have lousy timing?”

She blinked. “What?”

He looked at her. “You picked the wrong day to play mother hen, sweetheart.”