Hot Winter Nights (Heartbreaker Bay #6)(6)

“Yes!” She shoved his hands away and tried to push his big body back too, but he was an immovable tree when he wanted to be and he stayed right here, supporting her until, finally dammit, she got her leg beneath her. She probably would have even relented and used her cane if it’d been here, not that she intended to admit it. “I’ve got this,” she muttered, stepping free, incredibly aware of how little she was wearing and how much he was.

And worse, the look in his eyes didn’t have anything to do with sexy times, but pity. “I said I’m fine.”

He lifted his hands. “I heard you, loud and clear.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“Hard to when you’re pale from pain,” he said. “Sit down.”

“No.”

“Molly,” he said in that frustrated voice again. But then he hit her with a zinger she didn’t see coming. “Please,” he said quietly.

Well, hell. She sat at the foot of the bed, and the fact that she did it just before her leg gave out again was her own little secret.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” he said very seriously.

“I’m not going to rate your performance last night.”

“That’s not—” He paused, his eyes sharpened. “Wait. What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“So you’re saying I did suck.”

She had to laugh. “Well, if you can’t remember it, how good could it really have been, right?”

She was only teasing of course, but he frowned like the possibility that he hadn’t been heart-stoppingly amazing had never crossed his mind until that very moment. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

Still looking distracted, he shook his head. “Two elves were waiting on you at the office this morning.”

She raised a brow. “Are you still drunk?”

“No, really. It was your neighbor and a friend. They were talking about their bad Santa.”

“Mrs. Berkowitz,” she said, remembering. “She’s been working at a small pop-up Christmas village in Soma and thinks there’s something nefarious going on.”

“You can’t take this case on, Molly. You’ve got to turn her down.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I know you didn’t just tell me what to do. Even if we did sleep together.”

She meant him to react to that and he did, with a grimace. “Okay, first, this”—he waggled a finger between them—“didn’t happen.”

“And you’re so sure about that, are you?” she asked.

Assuming by the way his mouth opened and then closed, he wasn’t sure of anything right about now. Now that they were both irritated, she got up again and dammit. Dammit, her leg still hurt. She paused, but didn’t see any way around letting him see her limp over to her clothes.

But for the record, she hated it.

Incredibly aware of his quiet gaze on her as she moved, she didn’t look at him. This was why she didn’t do morning afters. Well that and morning breath.

“Do you wake up like this every morning?” he asked quietly.

“No. I usually wake up with a good attitude, but then idiots happen.”

“I meant your leg,” he said, ignoring her outburst. “You’re hurting.”

She sighed. Honestly, she was always hurting. “I’m fine.” She stepped into her dress and pulled it up under his T-shirt, working like a trapeze artist to not flash him as she got it into place. Leaving his T-shirt on—she was so keeping it—she moved to the door. “Gotta go.”

“Wait.” He caught her at the door. “About last night.”

“I know. You don’t want it broadcasted blah blah.”

“Whatever happened last night,” he said, eyes very intense. “It can’t happen again.”

Something deep inside her quivered in . . . disappointment? And here was the thing. She knew what had happened last night. Nothing. But it still made her mad, so she snorted. “Don’t worry. With lines like ‘I’m gonna rock your world, baby,’ it most definitely won’t happen again.”

He started to nod, but stopped. Winced. “Did I—Shit.” He stared down at his work boots for a moment before meeting her gaze again, his disarmingly concerned. “I made it good for you, right?”

Her every single erogenous zone got a little wiggly at the thought, which annoyed the hell out of her. She shrugged.

He looked horrified. “I didn’t?”

The truth was, if he set his mind to it, she had no doubt he could make it good for her without even trying. Not that he was going to ever get the chance. Yes he was smart, resourceful, confident, and incredibly quick-witted. On the job, he was doggedly aggressive with razor sharp instincts that rarely failed him, things that no doubt suited him in bed as well—and the women lucky enough to be there with him. All very sexy, attractive traits in a man . . . for a normal woman.

But she wasn’t normal. So she gave him one last vague smile and reached for the door.

He put a hand flat on the wood, holding it closed.

“Move,” she said.

“You’re still wearing my shirt.”

And if she wore it to work, everyone would know they spent the night together. She yanked it off, threw it at him and tugged open the door.