Page 5 of Playing With Danger

I slapped a fake smile on my face before I turned to face the very handsome Valentine.

“I think the universe is telling us something,” I quipped. “First, near disaster in the spaghetti aisle, now this. Seems dinner and drinks are out for us.”

The frown that pulled his brows together was my first indication he didn’t find me amusing. The way his gaze dropped to my chest area was not due to my superior breasts—not that I’d ever had a man zero in on my B cups before and now clearly wasn’t going to be the first time—but it was another clue Valentine wasn’t enjoying my attempt at humor.

“It looks worse than it is,” I started. “Apparently a little blood mixed with lime juice makes for one hell of a stain.”

At that his eyes traveled up, taking a long time to meet mine.

“Do you need a ride to the hospital?”

Even if I’d been planning on going to the ER both my arms still worked and I hadn’t lost enough blood I couldn’t operate my car.

“Delilah patched me up,” I told him then added, “The paramedic.”

“I know who she is, but you should still get checked out.”

Not this again.

“You might know who she is but obviously you’re unfamiliar with her kickass field dressings.”

“I’m acutely aware of how good the woman is at her job,” he fired back as his hand lifted. He dropped it back to his side short of its intended target, which looked as if he were aiming for his stomach. “You still should?—”

“I don’t mean to cut you off but I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital for a scratch.”

Again his eyes dropped to my shirt. He accompanied this with a pinch of his lips.

“Right,” he forced through a frown.

“Thanks for?—”

This time he cut me off. “I didn’t do anything. By the time I got back you’d successfully taken out the threat.” He paused and ever so slightly shook his head. “I shouldn’t’ve left you back there by yourself.”

Ah. His unhappy frown wasn’t about me kicking bad guy ass before he could. He felt guilty he left me unprotected.

“And deprive me of practicing my self-defense moves?” I teased.

When those lines bracketing his mouth got deeper I figured now was the time to get serious.

“Listen, Valentine, there’s no reason for you to feel guilty or any sort of way about leaving me the way you did. You had a job to do. You were seeing to that. You had no idea someone was going to come into the back.”

The man still looked unconvinced.

As much as I wished it wasn’t the truth, there was nothing I could do about that. Especially with the impending freakout I wanted to have in private.

Instead of trying to do the impossible I asked him, “Are you okay?”

My question seemed to take him off guard, or maybe it was surprise I’d flipped the script and was asking after him—the big, tough cop. And I didn’t mean that snarky. The dude was big; he towered over me with broad shoulders and a muscular frame that I’d already dreamed about after our first meeting, so naturally I’d lust after him again even if I was covered in sticky blood and he was grimacing. The tough part was merely an educated guess.

“Valentine!” a uniformed police officer called out. When Valentine craned his head to look over his shoulder the cop went on shouting, “We need you for a minute!”

Without answering—or perhaps the dip of his chin was an answer—Valentine turned back to me. He looked like he wanted to say something, probably something along the lines of an unnecessary apology.

So I let him off the hook. “Thanks for checking on me. I promise I’m fine. See you around.”

I turned to leave but halted when he said my name.

“Yeah?”

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