“What were you looking for on my computer?” Ric asked her.

“We’re trying to track down the owners of the properties that have been used for fights in the past. They’ve all been empty locations, but each one has been owned. The list is long, so I took half and Desiree took the other.”

“What about Cella?”

“She’s not too good with the thinkin’. Must be all those hits to the head.”

“Dee-Ann . . .”

“What?”

“Make this work. Don’t push her out because you don’t like her.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. She admitted she’s not good with the computer stuff, so I took part of it and Desiree took the rest.”

“That works.”

“I know.”

“Not sure how the headlock in the cafeteria fits, though.”

“It was a mutual headlock and that Charlene’s a tattletale.”

“The lovely Charlene is my eyes and ears, so be nice to her.”

“Lovely, huh?” The wording bothered her—she told herself she didn’t know why—so she suggested, “Maybe you should take Charlene out sometime. It’s been ages since you’ve been on a date.”

“Dee-Ann, I work with Charlene. That would be grossly inappropriate.” And he wasn’t joking. “How is that inappropriate but telling me to get naked isn’t?”

“First off, I don’t tell you to get naked. I suggest it in a completely nonthreatening and non-sexually harassing manner. And second, you and I are far beyond the boundaries of workplace etiquette that I normally abide by.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you constantly break into my apartment, wear loose-fitting clothing that simply begs for me to feed you so that they won’t be so loose all the time and, to be quite blunt, you’re damn cute.”

“Cute? I’m cute?”

“Damn cute.” He tapped the table with his forefinger. “Damn cute.”

“Charlene is lovely and I’m . . . cute?”

“Damn cute. You keep forgetting the damn part of it.”

Disgusted, Dee went back to her delicious sandwich. No wonder the man made such good food.

It was the only reason she hadn’t chucked it at him.

“Almost every one of these properties is shifter owned.”

Dee leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at his computer screen and Ric worked not to bury his face in her neck and sniff. Something she’d already caught him doing more than once.

Honestly, how could the woman be so oblivious to the attraction between them? Or, at the very least, his attraction to her.

It had been ages since he’d been on a date? He knew that! Because he was waiting for her!

What was the point of going on a datewith a woman he knew would never be who he wanted? It wasn’t that he was a saint or anything, but Ric had never been one of those one-night stand guys. He never knew how to extricate himself from those situations the day after. It was a skill he simply lacked. Like his inability to golf well.

“Do you know any of these people?” Dee asked.

“Some of them. I’ve heard or know of others.”

“Can you get me some home addresses?”

“Why?”

She briefly chewed the inside of her lip. “No reason?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Both?”

Ric turned his chair, facing her. “You can’t harass these people, Dee-Ann.”

“Harass? Who says I want to harass anyone? I’ll just ask a few questions.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What’s that look mean? What do you mean by that look?”

“That—and I’m only suggesting—that you let Cella and Dez handle interviews.” Slowly, Dee stood up straight, her hands resting on her hips. “And why would you suggest that?”

“Let’s just say your strengths aren’t in that particular area.”

“I am damn good at interviews.”

“No. You’re good at interrogations. Interviews are not your strong suit.”

“Since when?”

“Since you made that six-year-old cry.”

Dee stamped her foot. “She was hiding something!”

“And she was six!”

He made her use the front door like some common guest, walking her to it, and handing her a paper bag with several slices of that angel food cake she loved from his restaurant.

“You still mad at me?” he asked.

“Probably.”

“The cake didn’t help?”

“Maybe a little.”

He leaned up against the doorway. “Don’t be mad at me, Dee.”

“You accused me of terrorizing children.”

“No. I accused you of being really good at your job, where little things like age or infirmity or the inability to count past ten without your mommy’s help don’t really stop you from getting the truth.”

“Man,” she griped. “You kick one walker out of an old sow’s hands and suddenly you’re all levels of evil.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to the Group and to shifters.

You’re a protector, and I can’t think of anything that means more to me or to the people you protect.” Damn him! Damn him to hell and back! Being all nice and well-spoken. Thank the Lord he was actually a good guy, because if he decided to become a serial killer, he could be worse than Ted Bundy!