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“And this?” He grinned and pointed to his exposed waistline.
“That you’re just going to have to deal with.” She chuckled.
“Glad you find this so amusing.”
“Sorry.” She pressed her lips together, trying to stem her laughter, but it was no use.
The fact that she was supposed to have been married and off on her honeymoon by now was a harsh contrast to standing in a windowless office with a man who somehow disarmed her guard. And he was making her laugh. Belly laugh for the first time in a year.
“It’s okay.” He chuckled. “I know it’s ridiculous, but like you said, it’s better than being soaked.” He draped his wet shirt over the chair. “I can only hope this dries by morning, because I’m not wearing this home. I’d never hear the end of the ribbing.”
She shuffled her foot. “You and your brother ... are close?”
“Yes.”
“But you believe he’s wrong about Mitch’s case?” At least he’d said he was inclined to believe she’d been set up, which went right in the face of Deckard’s judgment of her.
“I believe what Deckard found happened.”
Her stomach dropped, and she braced for what was coming.
NINETEEN
“BUT IALSO DON’T BUYthat you messed up,” Christian continued, stunning her. “Or, at least, I think your case should be investigated.”
“Wait.” She squinted. “So are you saying you believe both of us?” How was that possible?
“I believe Deckard found what he did. However, it doesn’t negate the fact that you could very well have been set up.” He rolled one of the two computer chairs over, spun it around, and straddled it, draping his hands over the back, gesturing with them as he spoke.
“So Deckard found the DNA was compromised and the evidence missing. We can consider that a fact. The sample was deteriorated beyond retesting, and the shirt is missing. But neither of those things means you did anything wrong. Especially if you believe you were set up.”
“I don’tbelieveI was set up. Iwasset up.” She bit her lip to keep from screaming.
He held his hand up. “I get it. Why don’t you walk me through more of the case.”
She shuffled her leg, pulled the jacket tight around herself.
“You could go in the ladies’ room, take your shirt off to dry, and wear the jacket zipped,” he suggested.
“That’s not a bad idea.” Her blouse was plastered to her. “Howfar is the bathroom? I don’t want to risk the thieves seeing me through one of the windows or doors. Actually, why don’t you just turn around and I’ll change here.”
He arched a brow. “You sure?”
“I trust you not to look.”
“Really? Don’t you know the hero always sneaks a peek?”
A bemused smile twitched on her lips. “So you’re the hero now? Does that make me the damsel in distress?”
“Hardly. I feel certain you can hold your own.”
She smiled. “All right, mister. Turn around.” She waited until he did so, then swapped out the shirt for just the jacket. “Okay,” she said as she’d finished zipping it up.
He turned around. “Feel better?”
“Much.” She draped it on one of the conference table chairs. “It’s interesting—”
“What’s that?”
