Say You're Sorry

She wanted to be blood- and dirt-free before she went home so she didn’t frighten her girls. They didn’t need to know she’d been in danger.

“Let me look.” Lance set his water bottle down and crossed the kitchen.

But instead of searching the kit, he sat in the chair next to her and lifted her legs onto his lap, turning her sideways in her seat.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. His legs were twice as thick as hers and ten times more solid.

“It’s probably easier for me to get these for you.” Taking tweezers from the kit, he bent over her legs.

“It’s OK. I can get it.” A shiver in her voice belied her confident words.

He lifted his head, his gaze catching hers and holding on for a long second. Emotions darkened the blue of his eyes. Anger. Concern.

Heat.

She shivered.

“Just let me help you, all right?” His fingers wrapped around the sensitive skin of her calf. “I’m a little freaked out about us getting shot at today.”

“All right.” Morgan sat back. She took a drink of cold water and swallowed. “Thank you for what you did.”

The tweezers hovered over her ankle. “You’re welcome.” He plucked a splinter free.

“I’m serious. When I think of what happened.” And what could have happened. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m all my girls have left.”

His grip on her foot tightened. “I know. That’s all I could think about.”

So the man who already lost a career and ten months of his life to a bullet wound had been worried about her and her girls. Warmth rose into Morgan’s chest.

“I don’t know what I would have done if I’d been alone.” Her throat clogged.

“You wouldn’t have been alone. You would have hired another investigator.”

“A stranger wouldn’t have been willing to be my human shield. You were. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He cleared his throat, grabbed hold of another splinter, and gently lifted it free. “You handled yourself pretty well out there.”

He picked another splinter free while she tried to ignore the heat of his big hands on the sensitive skin of her ankles . . . and the heat building in her belly.

“One more,” he said. “It’s a big one. Hold tight.”

Morgan braced herself as he worked the splinter out. “Ow.”

Holding a gauze pad under her foot to catch drips, he poured antiseptic onto her ankle.

Morgan flinched at the bright sting. “That smarts.”

Bending his head, Lance blew on the cut for what seemed like a long time.

A really long time.

Finally, he straightened. “Let me put a bandage on that.”

He squirted antibiotic cream on the cut and covered it with two large Band-Aids. He turned to her and leaned closer, until their faces were inches apart. God, he smelled good, a little sweat and dirt layered over plain old soap. On her, the combination felt gross, but on him, it ramped up his masculinity until her ovaries practically swooned. Not that they needed any encouragement. He’d already achieved hero status with her hormones.

The pads of his fingers stroked her ankle. When was the last time a man had touched her bare skin? Years ago. So long that the sensation felt brand new.

She was almost sitting in his lap. But he didn’t seem like he was in a rush to move, and frankly, a big part of her wanted to crawl all the way into his arms.

“I should get up now,” she said.

“Oh. Right.” Lance released her ankles.

She lifted her legs from his lap and stood. “Thank you again.”

The adrenaline rush from the afternoon had long since faded, leaving exhaustion in its place. She was tired and lonely, and tired of being lonely. And being this close to Lance in such a state could be dangerous. If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to embarrass herself, because all she could think about was kissing him.

Actually, kissing wasn’t all that was on her mind.

He tossed used gauze pads into the trash. “You might want to consider wearing pants when you’re not in a courtroom. Or at least when you’re traipsing around the woods. Not that I don’t like looking at your legs . . .”

“Really?” Was she flirting? She remembered how? Must be like riding a bike, because with him, it felt totally natural.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really.”

Oooooh.

But she was too chicken to follow through on that kiss.

For now.

“I’ll just go change my clothes.” She slipped out of the kitchen, went into the bathroom, and changed into a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt, and white sneakers.

He smiled when she came out.

“What?”

“Nothing. You look cute.”

“Cute?” Morgan was five nine. “I haven’t been called cute since I outgrew all the boys in my grade in grammar school.”

His grin widened as he closed the distance between them. “You’re small compared to me.”

He was nearly a head taller and twice as broad.

“This is true. You look like you’ve been bench-pressing houses.”

“Maybe I have.” He flexed his bicep.

Her ovaries responded with yum.

Annnnnd it was time to go.

“Thank you again for what you did today.” She retreated to her office and gathered some files. She still hadn’t made it through all the information from the DA’s office. She was determined to read every word on every page by Monday.

He followed her and stood in the doorway. “You’re welcome again. What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

“I’ll be spending the day with my girls. I’ll work before they get up and after they go to bed.” She had to draw the line between work and family somewhere. One positive of self-employment: she could work from home whenever it suited her. On the downside, she wasn’t getting paid.

He nodded. “I have to take my mom to her group session anyway. I’ll be busy all morning.”

“Monday then.” She agreed. “You’ll let me know if your mom finds anything juicy?”

He grinned. “I’ll call you.”

She tucked her files into her bag and lifted the strap over her head and across her shoulders. As she walked out of the office, her hip brushed his in the narrow hallway. He caught her by the arm. His gaze dropped to her lips.

Was he going to kiss her?

Though she had contemplated doing that very thing to him a short while before, the idea sent a shiver of warning through her already damaged heart. Beyond the undeniable physical attraction between them, she really liked this man. Everything from his courage and his kindness to his sense of humor appealed to her.

But tonight, with the combined weight of Tessa’s death and Nick’s future resting on her shoulders, her feelings for Lance—and the vulnerability they created—were more than she could handle.

When his head dipped lower, she stopped him with a hand in the center of his chest. “It’s just too much right now.” She wished she could explain more eloquently, but she couldn’t summon the words. “We’ll talk Monday?”

With that question, the tension between them shifted from sexy to awkward.

With a quick nod, he stepped back. For a second, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but he just followed her out to her van and didn’t step away until her door was locked.

Morgan used the drive home to decompress. When she walked into the house, the girls were in the tub.