“Look,” she says and turns in the seat so she can look at me when she talks. This is quickly becoming one of the things I like about her. She’s not a game player. She says it like it is. “My daughter is my business.”

“Right.” I nod. “Except when you lose her and I find her in the store all by herself at just this side of the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Adam said a curse!” Hailey announces.

“Bloody. Pulp.” The words are spat out from between her teeth and when I glance over she’s throwing daggers out of those gorgeous eyes at me.

It’s both impressive and terrifying.

Chapter Two

~Sarah~

“Do you need me to repeat the address?” I ask, my voice bitchy to my own ears. I should probably be kinder to the stranger doing a favor for me, but it’s already been the morning from hell and I just can’t.

“No ma’am,” he replies, the sound of New Orleans dripping thickly from his deep voice. Honestly, now that the absolute terror of not being able to find Hailey has cleared, I can see that Adam is hot. Like, ridiculously, dangerously hot. Not handsome. Not nice-looking.

H-O-T.

But of all of the people in the world, no one knows better than I do that hot doesn’t make a man good. Hot men hurt, just the same way that ugly men do. So while I will sit here and admire the way his forearms flex as he grips the steering wheel, I will not forget that he’s a stranger.

I should have asked for the references he offered.

Except, I don’t have time for that. I have work to do, and I need to get Hailey to school on time. I haven’t managed to do it yet, and I’m quite sure the teacher isn’t terribly impressed with me.

I can’t blame her.

This single mom stuff isn’t for pansies.

“So what do you do?” Adam asks.

“Mommy saves kids,” Hailey says from the back seat. Adam looks over at me in surprise, then returns his gaze to the road.

“Is that right?”

“No, I—”

But Hailey is on a roll. “Yep! She saves little kids and mommies from daddies who are mean.”

“Hailey,” I say with my stern mom voice.

“What? He asked.” Hailey says reasonably.

“I did ask,” Adam agrees with a grin. Oh Jesus, that grin.

“I’m a social worker,” I admit and look out the passenger window, hoping that he’ll drop the subject. But the man is nosier than Mrs. Kravitz on Bewitched.

“How did you get into that?” he asks and turns down the street to the address I gave him. He was right. This neighborhood has seen better days. The buildings are run-down. Many of them were never repaired after Katrina. Cars are on blocks. Kids in dirty clothes are walking to school.

“It’s a long story,” I reply absently as he pulls up to the curb and I stare in silent shock at the house that my client is living in with her three children. “Come on, Hailey. We have to go inside.”

“No,” Adam says, surprising me. “You don’t want to take her in there, Sarah.”

I definitely don’t want to take her in there. But there is no choice.

“I’m not leaving her in the car with a stranger,” I reply simply. “Not today or any day. Ever.”

He shakes his head, looks at the house that looks like something out of a horror movie, then back to me. “I’m coming with you.”

“This is a confidential meeting, and trust me when I say the woman in there wants absolutely nothing to do with any man right now.”

His eyes soften in sympathy.

“I’ll stay on the porch if need be, but you are not getting out of this car in this neighborhood alone. Take it or leave it. And if you leave it, I’m driving away right now.”

Part of me bristles and wants to tell him exactly where he can shove his ultimatum, but the other part can’t help but admit that he makes sense. I can handle myself in any neighborhood, but I have Hailey, and I won’t be able to watch her as carefully as I should while I interview the client.

Finally, I cave. “Okay. You can come. But you will stay on the porch if there is any sign from this woman that she’s afraid of you.”

“Of course.” He blows out a breath. “Any man who makes a woman afraid should be hung up by his balls.”

“Agreed,” I mutter and open my door, help Hailey out of the car, and lead us up the steps to the porch. Whether the rotten wood is stable enough to hold all of us is questionable. The boards creek under our weight as I ring the doorbell.

I can hear footsteps running in the house, and a little voice yells, “Mama! Someone’s here!”

“Don’t you dare open that door!” Good girl, I think to myself when the client shouts at her kid. Restraining orders are just a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean that the ex-husband won’t show up at the door.

I glance up at Adam, who’s holding Hailey’s hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His eyes—green—are on mine when we hear the client approach the door.

“Who are you?” she calls through the door.

“This is Sarah Cox, Ms. LaCroix. I’m just stopping by to check on you.”

“Don’t need no checkin’,” she mumbles as she unlocks several deadbolts and opens the door. Her eyes squint against the sunlight as she looks me up and down. I’ve only spoken to her on the phone. This is our first meeting.

When she glances at Adam, she pulls the door tight against her, in case she has to shut us out quickly. “Who that?”