Page 37 of Sighs By the Sea

So seeing him today? I'm not exactly thrilled. I'm running out of coping mechanisms. The next one could be dangerous, like jogging.

Harry dangles the bag again and chuckles. "You've got that look, Margaret. Like you're about to fight a baboon. I really hope Grayson brought some protection."

I shove him and snatch the bag. Opening it up, I see a single donut and a carrot. I chuckle despite my reservations. Crunching the paper top closed, I stand from my desk.

"Did he do well?" Harry asks.

Despite myself, I smirk. "For now. But if he's like you, he needs something. Ask me again in ten minutes."

As I start toward the front, Harry follows behind me.

"Whoa, I can't watch?"

"Ew, don't be a voyeur, Harry. It's creepy when you're old."

"I'm not old!" he yells after me.

Spinning around, I shrug my shoulders dramatically. "You know who says that?" I ask, wiggling my brows as I continue to walk backward. "Old people!"

He grabs a pen off my desk and chucks it at me. Since it misses by a mile, I laugh and turn to face forward again.

I head out of the detective area and into the front, where I sense him before my eyes find him. Grayson stands in all his powerful glory. His broad chest is covered in a dark blue that makes his eyes look all the more alluring. Even how he's standing, with his hands tucked away in his pockets, adds to his appeal. I want to see those hands again. I've felt them on my body before, and with them hidden, it's suddenly all I can think about.

Grayson touching me in a powerful, dominating way. His fingers working the buttons of my blouse open. His palms covering my breasts. His thumb running over my bottom lip. God, I want those hands.

As I get to his side, I lock those unfortunate feelings away. He was a complete asshole last time we were together. And sure, I wasn't in my prime either, but I didn't say anything that hurt him personally.

I'm ready to chastise him, demand an apology, but when his eyes lock on mine, all those thoughts fade. There's just him and me. Cops, dispatchers, even the sex worker puking into a trashcan in the corner all disappear, and I walk in his direction, lured by his contrite expression.

And boy, does sorry look good on Grayson. His eyebrows are furrowed in the middle, concern etched into his features that gives my stomach a fresh flop.

"Mr. Cardenas, nice to see you," I say, extending my arm.

He shakes my hand once but doesn't release my palm. Where we're touching is all sorts of tingly. Four days ago, I was ready to deck him in his stupidly handsome face, but seeing him now, I'm ready to hump it. "Is it, Detective Parker?" he asks.

"It is," I say, a blush rising to my cheeks. Tell me, why am I breathless? What about him does this to me?

"Then it's nice to see you too." He finally releases his grip on me.

We're both skirting around the obvious question, and it's driving me crazy. "Okay, so are we just gonna not talk about it?"

He shrugs. "I was following your lead. My gift of donuts said the words for me."

"There was no card, and I'm not one for metaphors," I say.

He shifts on his feet, obviously uncomfortable with my bluntness, but his face remains impassive. "I need your help."

The bluntness catches me off guard. "What's going on?"

"I have a lead on Axe. He might be hiding out with his brother on San Clemente Island."

My eyebrows shoot up. Whatever I thought he had come here for, this was not it. Saliva is pooling in my mouth at the thought of nabbing one of our most wanted gang members. "Did you learn this through the mob connections?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but my buddy Greg is former FBI. He set it up."

"Sanderson." I say it under my breath. It makes sense that Greg still has friends at the bureau. He must be one hell of a guy to pull strings like this so far after he's been out of the game.

"Yes. The problem is, it's today. Miranda has a tour boat headed that way, but it leaves out of San Diego in..." He looks at his watch, something shiny and new. If I had any clue about which watches were expensive, I'd probably be impressed. "Three hours."

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