I hated Sundays.

They were useless.

I’d always planned to spend my Sundays on the beach, sipping wine, and reading a good book, but it never happened. Typically, I sat home, did laundry, and worked in my pajamas.

I hadn’t been able to get Morgan off my mind. I knew I shouldn’t want to be with him, but I wanted it more than anything in the world. I wouldn’t survive him. I knew that.

When I checked my e-mail before settling down to watch a movie, what popped up on my screen rattled me.

Race,

He can’t help you. No one can. You’re in my crosshairs and I’m coming for you when you least expect it.

My heart started to pound as I glanced around, wondering if someone was outside my house. I grabbed my phone and texted Morgan.

Morgan: I’ll be right over. Stay put.

Me: No. I’m fine. I just wanted to make you aware.

I unlocked and relocked my French doors to the back deck as I waited for his reply, and then I peeked through the blinds, trying to see if someone was outside.

Morgan: I’m coming over, Race. I need to do a perimeter check. I’ll bring the others to help and stay with you for a while. No lip.

I didn’t expect him to rush right over. I felt guilty for pulling him away from whatever he was doing tonight.

Me: No. There’s no one here. I’m fine. Really.

Morgan: Stay inside, lock the doors, and stay away from the windows. I’ll be there in twenty.

Duh! I mean, seriously. Did he think I was going to stand outside and sing a song?

Me: Yes, sir.

I turned the lights off and tried to distract myself while I waited.

I settled on the couch, watching The Bachelor and the train wreck that happened every episode. It was always good for a laugh. I started to drift off during the rose ceremony, my eyes feeling heavy and starting to sting.

My doorbell rang and I jumped.

“Race!” Morgan yelled as he knocked on the door. “Race, answer the goddamn door.”

“Coming!” I replied as I stomped toward the door. I checked my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red, with bags underneath. Great. My pajamas were okay, but they were nothing he hadn’t seen before. Really, it was just a pair of shorts and a tank top. I wasn’t about to make it look like I’d made an effort.

This was business, I reminded myself as I reached for the door, not sex.

“Race! I’m going to bust this door down if you don’t open it.” He pounded on the door this time.

The man was such a spaz. “What the hell?” I asked, throwing my hands up after I opened the door.

His eyes were on fire as he breathed hard. “What the hell? That’s all you have to say?” he asked with his hands resting on the frame and two men behind him.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m fine, and there’s no reason to threaten to bust down my door. I yelled ‘Coming.’”

“I wouldn’t let a door stand between me and your safety,” he said, giving me a halfhearted smile.

“I’m fine. I haven’t been murdered.” I opened the door wide enough to let them in.

“Not yet,” the tall guy said, following Morgan into the house.

“Jesus. You’re all such Debbie Downers,” I said as I closed the door.

“We’re realists, Ms. True. You have threats against you, and we are taking them very seriously,” Mr. Gallo said.

“Fine. I’m worried too. You’re right. But we don’t have to go over the top here.”

While I stood there, half dressed, redness crept up my chest.

I’d never been that girl.

“Over the top would’ve been if we came in with our guns out, ma’am,” the tall man said.

I shook my head as I walked back toward the couch. “Men. You’re all crazy,” I mumbled, collapsing onto the cushion.

“We’re going to survey the perimeter while Morgan checks the house. We’ll be out of your hair shortly,” Thomas reassured me before he walked toward the back door.

“The sooner the better,” I called out, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m staying,” Morgan told me as he set his feet shoulder-width apart, puffing himself out like a cat.

“No, you’re not.” I shot up and moved toward him.

I wanted him to stay—not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

He peered down at me. “Yes. I. Am.”

“Why?” I asked, glaring at him.

His eyes darted toward my chest, and my eyes followed. For the love of God, my arms had pushed my breasts up, putting them on full display.

When I brought my eyes back to his, he was still gawking at my chest. Any embarrassment I’d had vanished. Morgan DeLuca wanted seconds. Or would it be thirds?

“Because I won’t be able to sleep tonight if I think someone is attacking you,” he replied.

“I have a gun.”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t put my mind at ease, princess.”

I cocked my head. “Why? ’Cause I’m a girl?”

“No, Race,” he said, and then he groaned. “Let me check out the house and have a quick meeting with the guys, and I’ll explain it to you.”

I rolled my eyes, turning my back to him. Before I took two steps, his hand wrapped around my arm, dragging me backward.

“Excuse me,” I snapped, staring at his hand.

“Listen, Race. Drop the attitude for five fucking minutes. I’m here to protect you. You can wait.” He touched my chin, raising my eyes to meet his glare. “Don’t get all huffy and stomp off like a child. Please let me do my job without any backtalk, woman.”

“Go,” I said as I shooed him away. “Do your job.” I cringed, knowing that it sounded crappy.

He released my arm as his jaw tightened. “Stay here,” he commanded, pointing to the floor.

I crossed my arms again. “Fine.”

He marched off, moving from room to room.

Why in the hell did Morgan DeLuca make the strong businesswoman in me disappear?

When I was around him, I turned into a bitch, a drunk, or a loose-lipped woman.

“Find anything good?” I called out, still standing in the same spot.

“Nope.” He stalked into the kitchen, slamming the back door as he left.

I tiptoed to the kitchen, opened the blinds, and watched them. They were huddling together in the sand. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make out what they were saying to each other. When they broke apart and Morgan started to walk back up the steps, I ran back to my spot.

When he walked into the room, he stared at me with his eyebrow cocked. “You stayed?”

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Doesn’t matter. The perimeter is clear and no one is inside the house. The guys have gone back home.”

“Can I move now?”

“Yes.”

I turned my back, moving faster this time, and fell on the couch. “I could’ve told you that no one was here. You didn’t need to bring the guys over to check. Now that I’m safe, you can go. Your job doesn’t entail guarding me.” I grabbed the remote, flipped through the channels, and tried not to look at him.

He sat down, turning to glare at me. “I’m staying with you.”

I stared back. “Why? You just said no one is here.”

“I want to make sure you’re safe tonight.”

“Isn’t that going above the call of duty?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, hard breath. “Race,” he said, peering up at me, “you’re more than a job to me. Didn’t the other night mean anything to you?”

“Well, I…” I mumbled, feeling like a complete asshole.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and raking his fingers through his hair. “It meant something to me. You weren’t just a one-night stand. And until I know who’s after you, I’m not chancing anything happening to you. We’ve been over this before. Can you stop being a hard-ass for five minutes?”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, scooting closer to him. “I was going to watch a movie before bed. Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked, swallowing hard and trying to avoid temptation.

“Whatever you want,” he said, leaning back into the couch cushion.

“Stepmom or P.S. I Love You?” Luckily for him, I had them both on DVD.

“Which one has the most action?”

I threw my head back against the cushion and smirked. “P.S. has more death.”

“Sounds good.”

“Popcorn?” I asked as I got up from the couch when the previews started.

“Want my help?” he asked, starting to stand.

I pushed him down. “I got it. You relax.”

I tossed the popcorn in the microwave and stared at it as it turned, popping slowly.

I wanted him again. Having him this close, I wanted to feel his skin against me as his mouth covered mine.

Lost in thought, I stood on my tiptoes and reached for a glass bowl. I touched the bottom edge, trying to coax it out. As if in slow motion, the bowl came barreling out of the cupboard and began to fall.

“Fuck!” I yelled out, flinching as I tried to grab it. As it hit the edge of the counter, it shattered, crashing to the floor in pieces, shards of glass trailing in its wake.

Before I could blink, Morgan was standing by my side, pulling me away from the wreckage of the bowl.

I jumped, yelping loudly. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” he said, lifting me away from the glass.

“Damn it,” I whispered as I caught a glimpse of my hands.

He pulled my hands closer. “Let me see.”

Instead of pulling back, I gave in.

Blood had already began to pool in my palms and dripped from the edges.

Why did I have to try to catch the fucking bowl?

“The cuts don’t look too deep,” he said as he brought my hands closer to his face and inspected them. “We need to clean the wounds and stop the bleeding.”

“Are you a doctor now?” I teased, trying to choke down the tears that were threatening to fall.

He grabbed my waist and hoisted me onto the countertop. Shocked by his strength, I just gawked at him. We stared at each other as he brushed his thumbs against my stomach, causing my insides to flip.

“Just sit there and look pretty while I bandage you up.”

He thinks I’m pretty.

I felt my cheeks flush.

His muscles moved under the edges of his T-shirt sleeves, and I became transfixed by their rhythm, squeezing my legs together. “This may hurt a little,” he said as he rubbed the soap into the paper towel.

I winced, trying to pull my hands back. “Isn’t there a better way to do it?” I asked.

He stepped forward, almost standing between my legs.

My heart stopped and my breathing faltered.

“I just need to clean the blood away and make sure there are no shards inside the wounds before I bandage them.”

“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes growing wide.

He glanced up and grinned. “I’m standing where I know you can’t kick me in the balls.”

I sighed, resting my knees against his sides.

Might as well enjoy myself.

He touched my hand and pulled my fingers flat. I grimaced, waiting for the soap to sting. As he wiped my palm, the coolness of the water felt better than I’d expected.

Maybe my brain was fuzzy from him being so near, but I didn’t feel pain. My belly fluttered as he touched me.

If I leaned forward just a little bit more, I could kiss him and smell him.

“Did you just sniff me?” he asked as he peered up, holding my hand in his.

“No!” I squirmed, squeezing my knees against his sides and instantly regretting our position.

“You smelled me.” He looked back down with a grin.

I swallowed hard, feeling wetness pool between my legs.

“Leave your hand open to dry.” He opened my right hand and repeated the process.

“Are we good?” I asked as he finished wiping the last cut. I was ready to hop down and put a little space between us.

“Yeah, but we need to bandage them up first. They’re still bleeding, and if we don’t, you’ll get it everywhere.”

“Great.” I rolled my eyes. Why the fuck had I made my interior white?

“Your hands are going to be sore tomorrow.” His hands rested on my thighs, scorching my skin. “Where’s your first-aid kit?”

I should’ve shaved. “Fucking fabulous,” I muttered. “In the master bathroom.” I motioned toward the hallway.

“Stay put,” he commanded, pointing at me.

I hunched my shoulders, placing my palms up. “Where am I going? I’m not bleeding all over my place.”

He rubbed his forehead as he walked down the hallway and out of sight.

“Get your shit together, Race,” I told myself before inhaling a long, deep breath. “You’re a strong woman. You’re an executive. You don’t have time for romantic entanglements.” I blew the air out of my lungs and closed my eyes. “We’d never work anyway,” I told myself as I thought back to Friday night.

“What wouldn’t work?”

I jumped and closed my fists. “Damn it!” I shrieked as pain sliced through my hands.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, setting the first-aid kit on the counter.

“I’m just jumpy,” I lied as I peered down at my hands, bouncing my heels off the cabinet. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? I’m the one who scared you.”

I held my palms out, showing him the mess I’d made. “You’re going to have to clean them again.” I tried to hide my smile, ’cause in reality I’d welcome him between my legs.

“It’s not a big deal, princess,” he said in a calm voice, shrugging.

“Tell me more about yourself, Morgan,” I said, trying to think of something other than his body and mine together, naked, sweaty.

Fuck me, I was hopeless.

“Not much to tell, Race. I told you a lot about myself the day we met.”

“No, you didn’t. I want to know more than you were in the army. Are you from around here?” I knew he wasn’t, but damn it, getting information from him wasn’t easy.

“I grew up in Chicago and just moved here right before I started working on your case.”

“I was there once. It’s an amazing city. The shopping is spectacular.”

“I guess so. I’m not much of a shopper.” He threw the bloody paper towel into the sink.

“Yeah. I can see that.”

“Is that a dig?” he asked as he glanced up at me with a gleam in his eye.

I shook my head. “No. You’re just a man.” God, I was such an asshole sometimes. “What brought you to Florida?”

“I came for a wedding and my cousin offered me a job.”

“Which one is your cousin?”

“Thomas,” he replied as he opened the first-aid kit and grabbed a bandage.

“I can see the resemblance.” They were both beefy men and drop-dead gorgeous. “Why did you join the army?” I knew I was always tight-lipped about my past and life, but getting information out of him was like pulling teeth.

“I got into some trouble as a kid. Judge told me I either join up or spend some time behind bars.”

“What did you do? Rob someone?” I teased, pursing my lips.

“Something like that,” he mumbled.

“Huh.”

“I haven’t always been a good guy, Race,” he said as he covered my hand with the bandage.

“We all do dumb stuff when we’re young.”

“You’re still young.”

“When we’re younger.” I emphasized the last word. “What exactly did you do? I want to hear this.”

He sighed. “Why do you want to know?”

I bit the inside of my mouth and thought about how to answer his question. “I’m just making small talk.”

“I’d rather—”

“Wait,” I interrupted him. “I just want to know who you are as a person. I promise not to judge you.”

“You’ve been judging me since the day you met me.”

A lump formed in my throat. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to judge you. I just want to know more about you. We all have a past, Morgan.”

“I’ll tell you something if you share some of yourself with me.”

“Me?” I asked, a little terrified.

“Yeah. It’s only fair, Race.”

“Okay. You’re on, but you go first.” I chickened out. I wanted to hear his big, dark secret about his past life before I’d divulge anything about myself.

He started to slather antibiotic salve across my palm, but I felt nothing, too distracted listening to him. “I got mixed up with the wrong kids in high school. It started off with small things and just being bored. Eventually, our reputation made it to some higher-ups in the neighborhood.”

“Higher-ups?” I asked, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. Chicago still has a lot of organized crime. One day, we ripped off a truck full of goods.”

“A truck?” I asked, looking down at him with my mouth hung open.

“An entire truck filled with electronics. We needed to sell the shit quick so we wouldn’t get caught. The fence we used told someone, who then told someone else, and it got back to the man running things in our neighborhood.”

“That doesn’t sound very good.” I stared down at his hands as he touched me with such tenderness that I became fixated.

“We were scared shitless at first, but once we met with the guy, we were excited. We were kids and dumb as hell, but we thought it was a great opportunity. Naturally, we were wrong, and we ended up arrested about a year later.”

“That doesn’t make you a bad guy, Morgan. It makes you a stupid kid.”

“Nah, baby. I’m a total asshole. I didn’t join the military out of some code of honor. I signed up because I didn’t want to sit in jail.” He pulled my hand up to his face and blew on the wetness.

Shivers ran down my spine as his breath skidded across my skin. “That doesn’t make you an asshole.”

“No,” he said, and grinned. “I’m just one naturally. I’m not the nicest person.”

I started to giggle. “Morgan, I’m a bitch. I embrace that side of me. As long as you know who you are, the rest doesn’t matter. I don’t think you’re an asshole anyway.”

“I have my moments, Race.” He opened the bandage and placed it over my palm, covering the wound.

“We all do.” I watched as he carefully covered my cuts, enthralled by his movements and the feel of him against me.

“All done,” he said as he patted my knees. Then he rested his hands on my legs.

“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to close my fists.

Crap. I’d be useless like this tomorrow.

Everything would be a fucking chore.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I was just thinking.” I bit my lip as I stared at him. “Tomorrow, my hands are going to hurt. What a pain in the ass.”

He nodded as his thumb started to stroke the side of my kneecap. “Yeah. It’ll take a few days until the pain subsides.”

“Great,” I groaned, and sagged. “This is the last thing I need.”

“Take the day off tomorrow. It’s probably best you don’t go into work tomorrow anyway,” he said.

“Morgan, I can’t skip work.”

“When was the last time you had a day off?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Never,” I said. “I’m a workaholic.”

“Well, tomorrow, you’re going to play hooky. With the new threat against you, it’s better not to chance it.” He squeezed my knee, sending tiny shock waves down my legs.

“I don’t want some jerk to stop me. They’ll think they won.”

“Who gives a fuck what they think? If they think they won, they may get sloppy.”

“I don’t like it,” I grumbled, shaking my head.

“Let’s get you down,” he said, placing his hands on my waist.

My eyes fluttered closed. My body reacted to his touch. I wanted more Morgan.

“I can get down,” I said, placing my palms flat against the counter and instantly pulling them back. “Fuck.”

“Woman, can’t you let me help you without trying to do shit for yourself?” He increased the pressure of his fingertips against my sides.

“I’m not used to having someone help me.” I frowned, wondering if I sounded strong or pitiful.

He lifted me in the air, and I tumbled forward, but I didn’t dare use my palms to catch myself. I had a split second where I could’ve reached out and stopped myself, but I didn’t.

His body felt nice against mine.

“Sorry,” I whispered into his chest. I inhaled, getting another whiff of his cologne as his body shook with laughter.

“Go sit down, and I’ll clean up in here,” he said to me as I finally started to find my footing.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I’m totally fucked.

I’d never let anyone get to me the way he did.

I could see us burning out in fantastic fashion.

I wondered if we’d be like a nuclear explosion, destroying everything in our path, including ourselves, or if the slow burn of need I felt would smolder like an ember, eventually extinguishing.