Of all the harebrained women in the world, why did Catherine Bridgewater have to be the one to invade his life, turning his beliefs upside down, firing up every male instinct he possessed? He found the pair of them shivering in the open chamber at the top of the clock tower. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted before he fully emerged through the trapdoor. He scowled at Dalton. “You were supposed to keep her out of trouble.” “Sorry.” The boy had the audacity to grin. “I tried.” Brock turned to Cat, and the fear that clenched in his gut almost brought him to this knees. “Don’t you understand you could have been hurt?” She stood before him, arrow-trim in the black leggings and top, hugging her arms for warmth. A forlorn expression flickered over her face as she stared up at him, eyes full of uncertainty. “Christ, Cat.” He gathered her into his arms. “Don’t you realize what it would do to me to find your lifeless body sprawled on the sidewalk?”
