“Archer, sit,” she said softly. “Please.”

  So he sat. For her. Joe had been jumped on what should’ve been a routine surveillance job. He’d been hit over the head with a baseball bat and hadn’t regained consciousness at the scene. Archer, the guys, and a teary Mollie had been huddled in the waiting room for well over an hour when Elle came in and sat at Archer’s side.

  “Any word?” she asked quietly.

  He no longer questioned how she seemed to know everything. Maybe Mollie had texted her. Or Spence, who’d called him a few minutes ago. Archer hadn’t been able to do anything but concentrate on Joe. He remained still, leaning back, eyes on the ceiling, exhausted to the bone, very aware of her gaze on him. “No word.”

  Her hand settled on his arm, stroked up and down a few times and then her fingers entwined with his and she gently squeezed.

  No empty platitudes, no promises of “it’ll be okay” or “don’t worry” because she knew more than anyone else just how not okay the world could be.

  She just held on.

  He appreciated that more than anything she could have done. He closed his eyes and after a few minutes she set her head on his shoulder. Her breast pressed against his arm and a fast tactile memory rose in his body—the feel of her smooth skin, her nipple pushing against the palm of his hand.

  A strand of her silky blonde hair stuck to the stubble on his jaw. The scent, some complicated mix of feminine magic, made him want to inhale her. Maybe it was his sheer exhaustion that did him in but he turned his face and buried it in her hair. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

  “Don’t be.”

  He knew she said that so easily because she honestly didn’t believe in them. He’d do better, but for now he’d believe in them enough for the both of them. And so they sat there like that, quiet, taking comfort in the moment—or at least he did—when the doctor appeared.

  Everyone stood. Elle did too but she hung back a little bit as Archer and Mollie spoke with him.

  The news was grim but not nearly as bad as it could’ve been. Concussion, brain swelling, but it was coming down on its own and he’d regained consciousness several times but was sleeping now. Mollie sagged in relief against him and Archer hugged her tight.

  “I’m going to go see him,” Mollie said, and she followed the nurse back.

  The tension in the waiting room drained considerably. Archer took in some deep breaths himself and watched Elle vanish into the little gift shop. Five minutes later she was back with a big bag of jelly beans.

  “His favorite,” she said and Archer didn’t bother to ask how she knew that either.

  She was magic.

  They kept Joe company while he dozed. Archer sat on a chair at one side of Joe’s bed, Elle on the other side reading a Cosmo magazine whose cover claimed “Guys Think about Sex Every Five Seconds.”

  “Is that true?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said flipping pages without looking up. “You tell me.”

  He thought about it. “I mean I think about it a lot, but I also think of other things.”

  This had her lowering the magazine to eyeball him. “Like . . . ?”

  “You,” he answered truthfully.

  She cocked her head. “In what way?”

  “Naked.”

  This had her arching a brow. “Always?”

  “Depends,” he said.

  “On . . . ?”

  “On if I’m hungry or not.”

  She snorted and went back to her magazine. But she was smiling now and he felt like he’d won the lotto.

  Archer stayed all night with Joe and Mollie, and so did Elle. He figured that had to mean something. At dawn, Joe woke up and said he wasn’t going to die and that they all needed to get some rest because they looked like zombies.

  Archer gave Elle a ride home.

  “You’re not coming in,” she said when he parked in front of her place. “Don’t follow me up.” She started to get out, sighed, and then turned back. “But thanks for the ride home.”

  He smiled because it was hard to be polite and murderous at the same time but she managed it like no one else, looking sexy and adorable at the same time. “I’m going to follow you up, Elle.”

  “No, you’re not. I’ve been preoccupied, but I had time to think all night and I realized something. In order to get me this job when I needed it, you must have been keeping track of me for longer than this past year. You’ve been keeping track of me for eleven years and I had no idea. And now I want to be alone with that and stew in my mad.” She pointed at him. “And you’re going to let me.”

  Yeah, he was. He had to. She deserved the time. “Get some sleep,” he said quietly.

  “I only have time to shower, I’ve got homework.”

  She’d be exhausted by the end of the day. “At least let me in and I’ll make you breakfast while you shower.”

  She held his gaze. “No cracks about wanting to help me soap up?”

  “Well, I don’t like to brag,” he said, letting a teasing tone come into his voice, hoping to lighten the mood, “but I’m really good in the shower.”

  She snorted.

  “Admit it,” he said with a smile. “You’re a little tempted.”

  “Maybe,” she said, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “And maybe more than a little. But I’m also angry and confused. I need to get unangry and unconfused, Archer.”

  “I could help you with that too.”

  “I’ll let you know,” she said.

  That had been two days ago.

  Joe was out of the hospital and laid up at home, pissed off because Archer wouldn’t let him work until the doctor cleared him for light duty. This meant Mollie was also off because she was taking care of Joe, leaving him without a receptionist, forcing them all to pick up the slack—which, for the record, they hated.

  Archer had had no idea just how much Mollie did until she wasn’t around. All of them universally hated answering the phones, so they were taking turns and fighting about it.

  Yesterday Morgan had showed up out of the blue and offered to answer phones. He’d been desperate enough to let her, but there was a steep learning curve and he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a bunch of big-ass grown men whine or bitch so much.

  Morgan appeared in his office doorway. “The latest searches are in your email,” she said.

  In his line of work there was a lot of computer footwork, something else they all hated. It was quiet, boring work that none of them wanted to do, and he figured it was safe enough to put her on it. Also it would keep her occupied and out of trouble while he figured out if she was still trouble herself.

  His own investigation on her had assured him that she’d been in things deep as late as six months ago but that she’d kept herself clean ever since. Still, the difference in her claimed timeline and the truth troubled him. “Thanks,” he said.

  She nodded and shifted her weight around, giving herself away. Elle would never have done that but Morgan was far more transparent.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I know it’s only been two days and I haven’t done all that much yet,” she said. “But I wanted to thank you for the opportunity to prove myself to you.”

  “You don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

  “To my sister then.”

  He leaned back and met her gaze. “I’m not sure that your working here is going to do that.”

  “I’m hoping that seeing me work a real job is going to help change her mind about me.”

  “I don’t have that much power,” he said. God didn’t have that much power.

  “You underestimate yourself. You could talk her into being my sister again if you put your mind to it.”

  He let out a low laugh because he doubted his ability to talk Elle into anything.

  “I know I’ve asked a lot of you but will you at least think about it?” she asked. “About helping me get back on Elle’s good side?”

  He looked into her baby blue eyes that were so like Elle’s and sighed because he knew he’d try. Not for Morgan.

  But for Elle.

  Because she deserved that. She deserved family. Hell, she deserved the damn moon. He didn’t know if it was because he was so fucking proud of who she was and what she’d made of herself, or if it was because he’d had a taste of her now and was afraid he might never get a chance at another, but he wanted, needed, to make things good for her.

  The next night Archer managed to catch Elle as she was coming out of her office.

  “Still stalking me?” she asked politely.

  “Maybe I just missed you,” he said as they stepped into the elevator together.

  “That would require emotion, Archer.”

  “You think I don’t have emotions?”

  She sighed. “I know you do. I just think you don’t like them.”

  “Are we talking about me or you?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes as they crossed the courtyard and headed to the street, where she began to walk at a pace that amazed him given the height of her heels.

  “You’re walking all the way home?” he asked.

  “The girls and I ate pizza and brownies for lunch. I’ve got about two thousand calories to work off.”

  He kept pace and she glanced up at him. “You my bodyguard?”

  “You’re the one with a knife.”

  She snorted. “You probably had more adventures today than I’ll have in a lifetime. Walking must seem tame to you.”

  “Elle, you’re more of an adventure than anything that’s ever happened to me.”

  She ignored this and made a few stops, one for some flowers, another for a loaf of fresh bread from a bakery, and then again for a bottle of wine, making him wonder if she was prepping for a date. He hoped not because he’d have to kill the guy.

  “Having fun?” she asked dryly.

  “Yes.”

  She laughed. “Liar. You’re not into fun.”

  “I have my moments.”

  She blushed, which he found both charming and adorable, although she recovered quickly.

  “Hmm,” she said. “Because after breaking up two dates in a row, I’d have said you were actually a fun-sucker.”

  “Elle, I didn’t want to mess up your fun either time. You think I don’t know how long it’s been since you let yourself have a life?”

  She flushed and looked away.

  He turned her face back to his. “But seeing you go out with other guys when we’re . . .”

  She arched a brow. “Do tell.”

  Shit. He’d walked right into that land mine. “I’m not going to apologize for a single thing I’ve done,” he said.

  She wasn’t impressed. “Shock.”

  “I’m not going apologize for the things I’ve done,” he repeated, “because I’d do all of it again if I had to in order to keep you safe.”

  “You’re not paying attention, Archer. I’m not in danger these days. I don’t need you to keep me safe. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. And I get it,” he said. “You’re smart and strong. You’ve got it all handled. And okay, maybe I should’ve told you about the job—”

  “You think?”

  “Look, I have faults, okay? A helluva lot of them actually, but . . .”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” she said. “But what?”

  But . . . she was the most important person in his life. Without his family, she was basically his best friend, even when they went long stretches without communicating. But he’d never told her that because doing so would’ve made him feel . . . vulnerable.

  And he didn’t do vulnerable.

  Elle strode past him, nose in the air.

  He followed her up the stairs. At her front door she turned and faced him. “I don’t need a boogeyman check.”

  “Humor me,” he said.

  “Actually, I think I’ve humored you long enough.” She turned to unlock her door and stilled.

  He looked around her to see what had stopped her and saw that her door was ajar.

  Someone had broken in.

  Chapter 17

  #ShadyBusiness

  Elle stood there in front of her opened door, barely registering, when Archer put a hand on her hip, firm and protective, pushing her behind him so that she couldn’t see past his broad shoulders. But she had no problem seeing the gun he’d pulled out of nowhere.

  He nudged her to the side of the opened door, her back to the wall. “Stay here,” he said and then he vanished inside.

  She stood there, torn between following him or doing as he’d asked, but in the end she decided that following him would make her the dumb chick in every horror movie ever filmed.

  Someone had broken into her place.

  It’d been a damn long time since fear had ruled her body, but it took over now like an old friend, as if no time had gone by, making her feel as if she was a kid in perpetual panic all over again.

  Archer reappeared as silently and efficiently as he’d vanished, tucking his gun away behind him. “I don’t see anything out of place but I need you to come look to make sure.”

  She nodded numbly and he took a second look at her, frowning as he slid his hand in hers. “Hey,” he said, pulling her into him. “You’re shaking.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “Okay,” he said gently, squeezing her. “Maybe it’s me.”

  She let out a small mirthless laugh and followed him inside, still holding tightly to him. Her laptop was still on the table. Her TV hadn’t been disturbed. Nor anything else that she could tell. “I didn’t leave my front door unlocked,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  He squeezed her waist, making her realize he was still holding her to his side. “You’d never have left it unlocked,” he said. “You’re too smart that. Not to mention anal.”

  She choked out a laugh at the compliment and insult sandwiched together and knew by the way he smiled that he’d meant to get that reaction from her. “Should I call the police?” she asked.

  “Already did.”

  An hour later the police had come and gone. Archer walked around checking the windows and then he grabbed her purse. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Go where?” Elle asked.

  “To bed. You’re done in.”

  “I don’t need my purse to walk down the hall and get into bed,” she said.

  “That’s not the bed you’re going to.”

  It took her a minute to respond, as her body and brain had two very different reactions to the thought of sleeping with him again. Her body wanted to jump up and down and pump a fist in anticipation. Her brain wanted to scream that she was in far more danger from Archer than anyone or anything else.

  At least her heart was anyway . . . “This is a really bad idea,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll flash me your panty-melting smile and my clothes will fall off.”

  This got her the wolf grin. “And?”

  “And,” she said, “we’re no longer mutual orgasm givers.”

  He just looked at her, purse held out, the thing looking small and feminine in his big hand.

  “Fine.” She snatched it. Someone had broken into her home. Touched her things. And she had no idea why or what they’d been looking for. The truth was that her knees were still knocking and she didn’t want to sleep here alone anyway. “I’ll sleep on your couch.”

  “Wherever you want,” he said, and then he drove them through the night, in his zone, quiet. Watchful.

  Elle didn’t have a zone, but she could pretend with the best of them. “It was probably Morgan,” she said.

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “I called her. It wasn’t.”

  She stared at his profile in the dark, slashes of ambient light slanting over his face at every streetlight they passed. “Excuse me,” she said. “You called her? You and my sister are on calling-each-other terms?”

  He parked in front of his building and turned to face her. “While you’re still good and pissed off at me, there’s something you should know.”

  “Great. What now? No, wait,” she said. “Let me guess. You’ve kept track of my period as well as everything else, and you know I’m a day late.”

  He stilled. Blinked once. Not another muscle moved on that big body, not a single one. After a very long beat went by—during which she cursed herself for opening her big, fat mouth—he said with deceptive calm, “You’re late?”

  What the hell was wrong with her? She hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t meant to say a damn word. She’d only just realized this morning. She was one hundred percent certain it was stress. Or ninety-five percent anyway . . . “Guess you don’t know everything, do you?”

  There was a muscle ticking in his jaw now, and he took a moment to visibly compose himself. It was pretty fascinating really, the control he had over his emotions. She considered herself quite the emotion controller but Archer was the master.

  He got her inside his place and then, in a move that shouldn’t have charmed her as thoroughly as it did, put on some hot water, presumably for her nightly tea.

  Dammit. He knew exactly what she needed, always. Well, almost always. Because right this minute standing in his kitchen, she could’ve used a hug.

  He came to her and for a minute she thought he’d read her mind. He pulled off her jacket and set it over the back of a chair. He took her purse and tossed it on top of her jacket. Then he put his hands on her arms, gently stroking up and down as he bent at the knees to look her in the eyes. “Can I ask you to sit without starting a fight?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Asking would be nice.”

  She thought, but wasn’t sure, that she saw a very small smile curve his mouth. “Will you please sit?”

  With another shoulder lift, she headed back into the living room to the couch and sank into the cushions. It was the most comfy couch she’d ever sat on. It seemed to embrace her and she lay her head back and closed her eyes, suddenly and completely exhausted.

  For whatever reason, Archer let her be. She heard him tinkering around in the kitchen and the thought made her smile. Archer tinkering in the kitchen . . . The image that conjured up felt incongruous, the big badass Archer in an apron bent over the stove.