Person. He needed to think of Cath Hurley as a completely neuter person.
Not a beautiful woman. Women seemed to like him but smiling hadn’t cut it with this person. Neither had teasing. Long, heated looks got him nowhere. No matter what he did, her quills still bristled. He had to change tactics.
“That didn’t come out right. My bad.” Mitch flashed her what he hoped she’d see as an apologetic smile. “But I need to ask you some questions.”
“Sorry.”
She expected him to believe that?
“I’m all out of answers.” She stepped up onto the dark sidewalk again.
He rubbed the back of his neck. This woman—person—wore a nonstick surface like the one on his aunt’s skillet. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
“I don’t care. Good. Night.” She started toward Jackson Square again, her words like nails in the coffin of their conversation. Interaction. No way in hell did this exchange qualify as conversation.
The click of her heels hammered at the pain that had started throbbing in his head five minutes ago, but Mitch fell into step with her. No pain, no gain.
The idea of a woman alone on the night streets didn’t sit well with him, so he would accompany her no matter what. He drew the line at stepping inside her home again. One day—if he was lucky enough to keep this job—he’d get used to invading an innocent bystander’s privacy.
Was Cath innocent? Didn’t matter. He needed to proceed the way he would through a minefield. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t afford to make her more defensive. “We don’t need to go all the way to your place for this conversation.”
“We don’t need to have it at all.” Cool, crisp, professional. The perfect dismissal. Or so she perhaps hoped. She thought she had him pigeonholed, but she didn’t know him.
“You know.” He waited for her to look at him. “I answered all your questions earlier.”
She flashed him a look, brow furrowed, but didn’t break stride. “When?”
“Outside the pirate’s house.” Mitch shoved his hands into his jacket, took them out, let them swing. How the hell did someone act casual? “Turnabout is fair play.”
“And you would know about that?”
Mitch clenched his jaw. She sure knew how to shoot a guy down. Try. She only tried. He wasn’t falling over dead. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Let’s keep it that way.” A smirk crossed her face. “I have nothing more to say to you.”
Mitch matched her for another few strides in silence. “You seemed like a decent person earlier.”
“I am.” She stalked straight ahead.
He wanted her to stop and look at him, but he refused to touch her. Her warm aliveness under his fingers would only get him closer to a hard-on. Completely useless at the moment. “We’ll assume that’s true for now. If it is, then answer me just one—”
“Are you going to arrest me?” she blurted out and came to a sudden stop beneath a row of balconies. If looks could incinerate, he’d be ashes right now.
“Don’t tempt me.” Slapping cuffs on her might get him a little more cooperation, though. “You were harboring a fugitive.”
“I gathered as much when you forced your way through my front door.” Cath rubbed her hands down her hips, and Mitch’s abs tightened before he could look elsewhere. “I didn’t know when my brother had to be in court again.”
“You would say that.” Mitch crossed his arms. “You’ve been using delay tactics all night.”
She held his gaze, a heat-seeking missile straight to his groin. “You mean in the kitchen?”
“No, at the gate when I was trying to do my job.” When her legs had pressed against his. When her scent had clouded his brain. Don’t go there. “The fact remains that we did find our fugitive in your apartment.”
“Don’t you understand? I didn’t know he was hiding.” Her voice went all squeaky. “I kept asking him about the bail, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. What was I supposed to do?”
“Don’t get upset.” Mitch reached out to reassure her.
She shrank back and clutched her shawl in a death grip.
“I’m not going to arrest you.” You fool. Don’t give up a card you might need to play. He heaved a sigh. “I can’t, but somebody else might.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean like the police?”
Faint footsteps approached. Mitch immediately stepped closer to the buildings and gestured to Cath. “Let’s let these people pass.”
A couple materialized out of the fog, their bodies becoming more distinct in the spotlight over a nearby patio gate. The guy wound his arm around his companion’s shoulders, holding her close. The woman leaned her head against her boyfriend’s shoulder. The twinge in Mitch’s chest sharpened. Someday he’d… Nope.
Mitch sucked in a breath. Because of what had happened in the past and what might happen in the future, he would never be that close with a woman. He was good with that. He had his family, or he would if he caught Les Hurley in time.
Cath shivered and rubbed her arms, and Mitch stripped off. “Take my jacket.” She stared at him, lips parted. “You’d be doing me a favor. I’ve been broiling all night.”
She broke out of her trance to shoo his hand away. “Broiling? It’s February.”
If she knew they were in the depths of a New Orleans winter, why didn’t she wear warmer clothes? He waved his jacket at her. “You sure?”
“Positive.” She charged down the sidewalk again, calling back over her shoulder, “Don’t worry about me.”
Mitch pushed his arms into the sleeves and caught up to her without breaking a sweat. “I’m not leaving, so get used to me.”
Cath glanced at him when they reached Jackson Square. “I’m fine, and it’s stupid for you to go out of your way to accompany me. I really do have to be somewhere else now.”
Somewhere she planned to meet his fugitive? “I’ll walk you there.”
“You’re wasting your time, Mr. Guidry.” She wiped the sheen of moisture from her face. “I’m immune to intimidation.”
Oh man, she had this so wrong. His mother had taught him how to be polite and respect others, especially mothers and other females. “That would be counterproductive.”
“Counterproductive?” Her mouth dropped open. “Then why are you standing over me like some ogre?”