Page 58 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“Thought you’d want to go back to bed,” he says, popping his head back into view.

“Don’t you have to work today, detective?”

He shrugs. I’m distracted by the motion of his broad shoulders. “Technically, yes.”

“Technically?”

“I was planning on going over the files for this case. Don’t need to be in the office for that.” Grant retreats to the bathroom, leaving the door open.

A perfect opportunity presents itself, and I balk. With a gentle shake of my thoughts, I redirect my brain to my original plan. “About that.” I bite my nail. “Do you think you could take me back to the scene of the murder?”

“Why?” he asks from inside the bathroom.

“I was thinking...maybe if I go back, I might remember something. A detail about the killer.” I slump against the wall. “I can’t keep living in fear of this creep. If it’ll help me remember, then we should give it a try, right?”

Silence greets me, and I’m afraid I’ve overplayed my hand.

“Get dressed. We’ll stop for breakfast on the way.” The door closes between us.

Relief drowns out the guilt. I can’t think about what will happen next. I have to focus on the moment, on stealing that money. I don’t know how I’m going to get it past Grant, but I’ll cross that bridgeifI get that far.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I retrieve the clothes Claude gave me. The ripped denim jeans and Van Halen T-shirt aren’t my style, but they fit. My body is still humming from Grant’s touch, from the residual pleasure of his kiss. I crave more but stomp my desire down into a neat little box to be opened later...possibly never.

Grant reappears as I put on my shoes. I focus on lacing the high-tops as he dresses. My attention slips as he tugs the khakis over his hips. I’ve never thought of a man dressing as an attractive act, but damn it, Grant has my full attention as he pulls on his dress shirt. He turns as he buttons it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, slipping on a pair of shoes.

“Positive.” I tuck my hair behind my ears in an attempt to not bite my nails. “I need to do this. Help you solve the case so I can get back to my life.”

He scoffs. “Is that really what you want? To go back to living like that?”

His tone stings, and I bristle at the implication of his words. “Like what?”

“You can’twantto go back to scrimping and scrounging for money to pay your bills? Always being one step away from living on the street.”

His observation hurts, but he’s right. I ignore the bite of his assessment. “Are you saying I can’t go legit?”

“I never said that.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Quinn, you know what I mean.”

“I do, but I’m capable of taking care of myself.” I push past him but come up short when he grabs me by the waist.

“Take it easy, kid. I’m on your side.” His voice filters through my hair. I stand strong against the allure of his touch, even though I want to surrender.

“Let’s just solve this case and I’ll be out of your hair.” I twist to free myself from his hold, but he clings tighter.

“And what if I don’t want you to go?”

My heart stops. “What did you say?”

He spins me in his arms and tips my chin up until our eyes meet. “Stay with me.”

This time, the guilt pierces me straight to my soul. I pinch my eyes closed and sigh. “You don’t mean that.”

“Look at me, Quinn.” He strokes his thumb across my cheek. When I open my eyes, I’m lost in his, a dark, endless sea full of promise and uncertainty. “I mean every word.”

A jumbled mess of conflicting emotions chokes me. I blink back tears and swallow a lump in my throat. Grant holds me tight, keeping me upright, and for a moment, I nearly break, nearly spill the truth.

“I’ve done nothing but cause you problems.” My voice cracks. “You don’t want me.”

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