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The Fourth Of July
When eight parade floats explode during the annual Fourth of July celebrations, Agent Chris Harmer must find who planted the bombs before the terrorists strike again. His troubles aren’t isolated to terrorism. Chris falls in love with the FBI’s feisty psychiatrist, Alexis Osborne. She won’t commit to someone who doesn’t share her religious values and Chris has no desire to convert.
Chris rubbed Alexis’s back. He whispered comforting words over and over. “It’s okay, Half-pint. I’m here. I won't let anyone hurt you.”
Alexis shuddered again. A longing to stay in Chris’s embrace for hours momentarily replaced her fear. His lips and breath touched her forehead. If she looked up, she could kiss him to show her gratitude.
No. If she looked up he’d see the tears in her eyes. She stiffened in his arms, choking down her emotions. She couldn’t allow him to see her cry, and she wouldn’t be able to stop the tears if he kept touching her. She didn’t need any more embarrassment with this man. Pushing away from him, she folded her arms across her chest. It was the only way to ensure she wouldn’t throw herself at him.
She couldn’t let Chris see how shaken she was. Yet, it was impossible to conceal her trembling hands and quivering lower lip. That disgusting man had almost raped her. Bile rose in her throat.
Alexis swallowed hard, trying not to appear like a simpering fool. She wished she could fall into Chris’s strong arms again and bawl with relief, but she couldn’t allow herself that luxury.
“I was doing just fine on my own,” she said.
Chris arched an eyebrow. “Oh, you were?”
“Yes, you didn’t need to come rescue me like some damsel in distress.” Her tone was intentionally sharp to disguise her feelings. She would cry if she let her anger go.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, his voice rising. “What did you want me to do? Leave you alone with the man who was dragging you through the trees by your hair?”
Alexis shook her head. “I guess not,” she muttered. “Well, aren’t you going to go after him?”
Alexis didn’t know why she couldn’t just admit Chris had saved her from a fate worse than death. She was shaking with fear, trying to disguise it by putting on her tough-girl veneer.
“I should.” Chris rolled his eyes, his frustration with her evident. “I was concerned about how you were doing, but obviously you don’t need my help. Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” Alexis said, hugging herself for warmth even though it was a balmy summer morning. “I don’t want to let him hurt anyone else.”
“Neither do I.” He jammed a hand through his wavy hair. “I especially didn’t want him to hurt you.”
Alexis felt awful for chastising him when he had just rescued her. Why did she act like this with him?
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