Kathleen froze. Her entire front yard crawled with policemen like some kind of murder investigation scene. Void of nothing but the yellow tape and dead body. Oh, hell. At least she hoped the last part was true.
“Ma'am, can we come in?” She stared Marshal Thomas down as the nausea in her stomach gained strength.
“I-I remember you. But, what are you doing here? At my house?” She cringed at her pathetic response and cleared her throat. “You never identified yourself as a U.S. Marshal.” As her gaze dropped nervously from his stone cold brown eyes to his stern mouth, a jolt of electricity sparked through her veins. His lips were anything but cold. Generously sculpted, even stretched into a thin foreboding line, they’d never pass as cold. With a quick breath, she darted her attention back to his eyes.
“If you’ll let us in, we’ll explain.”
“This can’t possibly be standard procedure for a prowler,” she said, avoiding his request and waving a hand toward the commotion in her yard.