Page 48 of Close Protection

"What's one more layer of his operation?" Ivy replied with a small smile.

Julia studied her intently, and for a brief moment, Ivy glimpsed uncertainty beneath her professional mask, a flicker of vulnerability that suggested tonight's crossing of boundaries might not sit as comfortably with Julia come morning as she claimed.

"We should sleep," Julia said finally, professional responsibility never fully absent. "Morgan's coming at dawn with updated intel."

"Sleep then," Ivy agreed, settling against Julia's side.

As Julia's breathing slowed toward sleep, her arm remained curved around Ivy's waist, but there was a new tension in her shoulders, a rigidity returning to her posture. The walls Ivy had worked so hard to breach were already rebuilding, brick by careful brick.

Ivy stayed awake longer, studying the sharp profile of the woman beside her. She recognized the pattern forming: Julia's post-intimacy retreat into professional distance, the inevitable morning regret that would follow this moment of connection. For someone who had spent her life in control, surrendering to desire was a tactical error Julia wouldn't easily forgive herself for.

Tomorrow would bring a reckoning. But for tonight, Ivy allowed herself to remain in this fragile space between professional duty and personal need, listening to Julia's heartbeat and waiting for dawn to break their temporary peace.

8

JULIA

Julia woke to daylight filtering through half-closed blinds, finding Ivy asleep beside her. Honey-blonde hair spread across the pillow, breathing deep and even, the sheet slipped to her waist revealing the freckles Julia had traced hours before. An unexpected tenderness squeezed her chest, followed by a cold wave of recognition.

She had broken her most fundamental rule.

The realization settled like lead in her stomach. She silently slipped from the bed, gathering discarded clothing—evidence of her professional failure. In the bathroom,she turned the shower hot enough to scald, as if the steam could purify what she'd done.

The water washed away physical traces but did nothing for the memory etched into her muscles. Julia shut it off with brutal efficiency, armor-layering herself in tactical practicality: sports bra, button-down shirt, dark jeans. The woman who emerged was Detective Scott, not the version who had surrendered control.

"Unprofessional," she murmured to her reflection. "Dangerous."

Her grandmother's voice echoed: "Feelings get witnesses killed, Julia." Her mother's addition: "And officers too." Generations of Scott women had served Phoenix Ridge by maintaining emotional distance. In a single night, Julia had betrayed that legacy.

The satellite phone vibrated. Morgan's morning check-in.

"Scott," she answered, voice controlled.

"Perimeter's clear," Morgan reported. "Chief wants updates by noon. Any developments?"

Guilt flared in Julia's chest. "Negative. Maintaining position. Dr. Monroe is reviewing evidence."

A technical truth. Morgan would detect a lie after years of partnership.

"Copy that. I’ll keep reviewing security protocols."

In the kitchen, Julia prepared coffee with mechanical precision, the ritual reinforcing control she'd abandoned during the night. She heard the bedroom door open, footsteps approaching. Squaring her shoulders, she turned, professional mask firmly in place.

Ivy stood in the doorway, wrapped in Julia's PRPD t-shirt, hair tousled. Her eyes narrowed immediately, detecting the shift.

"And just like that, we're back to Detective Scott," she said, accepting the offered mug without touching Julia's fingers.

"We need to discuss parameters," Julia replied, maintaining careful distance.

"Parameters." Ivy's mouth twisted. "Such a clinical term for what happened last night."

Julia moved to the window, checking sightlines. "Last night was a lapse in judgment. A breach of professional ethics that can't be repeated."

"A lapse in judgment," Ivy repeated, each word precise and cold. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"What would you prefer I call it?"

"I don't know. Connection? Desire? Something less insulting than 'lapse in judgment.'"

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