Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “Look,” she said wearily. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could talk to you and be your friend and help you shoulder the burden for this case. But I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

            “So Mike isn’t coming back?”

            He was about a foot behind her now. She was tempted to take a step forward, but that felt like retreat and she wasn’t going to do that anymore, either.

            “No. He’s not coming back. Why?”

            “Because he had flowers sent to you.”

            She stilled. “What?”

            “I went home to walk Pebbles after the party and there were flowers on your doorstep. The card said they were from Mike.”

            Liza rubbed her temples. “I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .” She sighed. “What did you do with them?”

            “I threw them in a dumpster,” he said calmly.

            Confused, she slowly turned to face him. He stood with his hands at his sides. Fists clenched. Jaw clenched. Body held ramrod straight.

            He wasn’t calm. Not at all. And that goddamn hope began to sparkle again. “Why are you here, Tom? You could have called me about the bodyguard.”

            His throat worked as he tried to swallow. Finally he cleared his throat. “Am I too late?”

            She took a small step closer. A tiny, tentative step. “Too late for what?” she whispered, afraid for the answer, but hoping, hoping, hoping.

            The small step seemed to defuse his tension. He released his fists, his eyes fixed on hers.

            “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “I . . . I can’t.”

            Okay. Not exactly what she’d wanted to hear. She dropped her chin, breaking eye contact. “You won’t lose me as a friend. You don’t have to force yourself to—”

            Strong fingers gripped her chin and urged her to look up.

            The breath caught in her chest and it was like all the oxygen in the room was sucked away.

            His eyes were more intense than the bluest sky on the sunniest day. And he was close. She had to blink to bring him into focus, and then blink again as he came closer.

            “Tell me to stop if this isn’t what you want,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, sending new shivers all over her skin and rocketing her pulse into the stratosphere.

            She laughed, a breathless, slightly manic sound. “I’ve wanted this for—”

            She was silenced by his mouth taking hers, and it was gentle. So gentle.

            Too gentle. She’d waited so long. She needed more.

            He pulled away far too quickly, his breath coming in short, harsh pants. The hand that now cupped her face was trembling. This big man was trembling. For me.

            The intensity in his gaze grew darker. Hotter. “I wanted to rip his hands off,” he whispered.

            She blinked. “What? Who?”

            “Mike.” He said the name like it was a curse. “For touching you. He touched you.”

            Her knees wobbled, relief making her dizzy. That she flattened her palms against his chest might have been for balance, but it wasn’t. He felt so good. So hard. And sensitive, his muscles shifting and jumping under her touch. The fire in his eyes blazed.

            He liked this. She closed her eyes, overcome. He liked this. He wanted this.

            He wants me. She slid her hands higher until she could link them behind his neck, emboldened at the shudder that shook him. “I have one question,” she whispered.

            When she opened her eyes, she found he’d closed his, allowing her to look her fill. Tom Hunter was the most beautiful man she’d ever known. And he was holding her, hands on her sides, their bodies separate. Sweetly awkward, like a middle school dance. She wished he’d go higher or lower, but for now this was safe. For now this was enough.

            He’d tensed again, though. Leaning up on her toes, she pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, making him swallow, his hands tightening their grip.