“Nope. Been a quiet day so far.”
“Good.”
“You want some coffee?” he asks as I shrug out of my leather jacket and hang it on the back of my chair.
I gesture to the huge stain on the front of my white shirt. “Do I not look like I’ve already had it?”
He chuckles. “I mean, it doesn’t look like any of it got into your mouth.”
Pulling open the bottom drawer of my desk, I pull out a clean T-shirt and straighten. “Coffee would be good. Thanks.” Without waiting for him to crack another joke, I head straight for theconference room. After pulling open the door and ensuring no one is inside, I toss the clean shirt down on the table, remove my shoulder holster and badge, set them on the table, then unbutton the now-ruined shirt I’d been wearing.
Since the undershirt that was beneath it is also soaking wet, I strip out of it too, then use the dry portion to wipe the front of my still-damp chest before tossing it onto the table. Right as I’m lifting the fresh shirt, the door opens.
“Occupi—” I start as I turn. But before I can finish the word, I’m struck with a jolt of recognition so powerful, it renders me completely immobile.Is she really here?
Standing in the doorway is a gorgeous brunette, lips painted a bright, bold red that will forever be burned into my brain. Beckett Wallace is unmistakable, even though she’s traded out her signature pencil skirt for a pair of jeans and a green sweatshirt, her heels for a pair of boots that climb to her knees.
Beautiful.
Stunning.
Am I imagining her?
And then I realize I’m staring like an idiot, still shirtless. Swallowing down the rush I get from seeing her again, I do my best to erase the surprise in my expression. “Beckett Wallace,” I say as I shrug into my shirt, suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable than I care for.
She’s still staring at me, her gaze wide, cheeks flushed with a deep pink.
It makes me grin.
My smile must rip her back to reality, though, because those gorgeous brown eyes re-focus on my face, and she shakes her head slightly as if to clear it. “Detective Sampson. I was hoping we could speak?”
I slip back into my shoulder holster and hang my badge back around my neck, then cross my arms. “About? I’m afraidI have none of your brothers locked up, so I don’t see how a conversation between us is relevant.”
Except for the fact that I’ve been dreaming of seeing you again since the moment you left town.
Her cheeks flush with color again. It’s one of the things that fascinates me about her. Every emotion is always present on her face. The woman couldn’t play poker to save her life. Is it possible that her transparency is what makes her such a good lawyer? Because the jury never believes she’s hiding anything?
“She’s respected for her tactical precision and unwavering code of honor, no matter the obstacles she faces.”The article comes rushing back to me. That’s absolutely why.
Beckett Wallace is as honest as they come. And with lawyers? That’s a rare thing to find.
“First of all, the Hunts are notmybrothers. Second, you shouldn’t have arrested an innocent man. Then I wouldn’t have had to fly out here to handle it.”
I arch a brow. “I didn’t know he was innocent.”
Those dark eyes narrow. “Yes, you did. Because, as much as I would like to claim otherwise, you’re not an idiot, Detective.”
Amused by the anger on her face, I lean back against the table. “You asked if we could speak? What about?”
She takes a deep breath. “I...” Beckett trails off, piquing my curiosity. For a woman who always has something to say, she’s certainly choosing her words carefully. “I need help.”
A bite of anger sings through my veins.Help?It’s been two years without so much as an “Are you alive?” text, and now she wants my help?
“So, let me get this straight. You came all the way to Seattle, barged in on me while I was changing, insulted me, and now you’re asking for a favor?” I click my tongue. “My-my, Counselor, what confidence you have.” I push off the table and move around her out the door. I’m frustrated at myself for myresponse to her, and for the fact that, for a moment there, I thought she was here because she genuinely wanted to see me.
“Please?”
That one word stops me in my tracks. I turn to face her, noting now the redness of her eyes and the dark circles around them.
