She wasn't sure if it was those startling dark eyes of his. Or it could’ve been those incredibly wide shoulders that would make any woman feel petite, or that broad chest and those…“What am I doing?” She smacked her forehead with her palm, pushing those thoughts aside.Going to him for help had nothing to do with envisioning him in boxers or showing off hard, naked abs. And the last thing she needed to be doing right now was mentally molesting the man. It was highly unlikely that he’d be happy to hear from her, but it was his job. Unable to find the number, she scooped up the letter she'd received, placed it back into the package it'd come in and shoved it into her bag. Fuck finding his number, she thought. She'd go straight to the station and find him there. She left her house, in search of a very different type of asshole.—--------Detective Alaric Harper's phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans for the second time in the last hour. He needed to continue ignoring it. He should

Vanessa's stare lingered on the woman’s chest, and she suddenly felt like she was rocking a training bra. Christ on a crutch, were those things real? Her gaze finally drifted up to the woman’s face and something about the pretty features was familiar… Holy fuck balls, wasn’t she a district attorney? Oh my.Alaric cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him. “We need to talk? Right now?” he asked. For a moment, she couldn’t speak. Good God, this man…His dark brown hair was messy, and his broad shoulders seemed bigger now. His cheekbones were well defined and high, setting off a strong jawline and wide, expressive lips. The man was built like a heavyweight boxer.Her gaze traveled down his throat, over the gap in his shirt at his neck, and then down his arms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing powerful forearms and large hands.“Mrs Spencer?” Amusement colored Alaric's voice.Heat flooded her cheeks. Dear God, was she flustered? She was never flustered. An obno

"This… That was… That is so inappropriate that I don’t even know where to begin.” She reached up, taking off her glasses. For the briefest second, he saw her face for the first time without them before she placed them back on. His eyes narrowed. Just what did she see in Christopher Wesley that made her marry him, he wondered. She stared at him for a good half a minute and then exploded like a bottle rocket. “For fuck’s sake, talking to you is impossible! Fucking forget I even came here, because this was the most pointless trip I’ve ever made in the history of fucking forever! And just so you know, you're the worst Detective I've ever met in my life. It's a wonder how you manage to keep your job since the only thing you're good at is making false accusations, and being a shitty person.”He blinked, surprised by her outburst. And turned on—completely, 100 percent rocking a raging hard-on. There was definitely something wrong with that, but he wasn’t surprised. He liked his women mouthy

He stepped away and opened his mouth, but then seemed to rethink what he was about to say. He finally checked out her car, frowning when he saw her open door. As he moved forward, she gulped in air and ignored the smidgen of disappointment.“What in the hell?” he said, facing her car fully. Gripping the door, he bent at the waist. “Looks like you lost a windshield.”She rolled her eyes. “No shit.”He cast a look over his shoulders that would’ve sent men running in the opposite direction. Vanessa made a face. “The sarcasm isn’t necessary,” he said before turning back to her car. “Man, they did a number on this baby. Looks like someone was trying to get himself a free ride.”She snorted. “You must be the muscle and not the brains. I guess Paul is the brains in the team then.”Again, he shot her another dark look, which she ignored.“Ten minutes ago I told you that I received a threatening note. Do you really think those two things aren’t connected? Wait. Don’t bother answering, because

Wondering who actually took the time to get personalized stationery made, he pulled out the note and unfolded it. It was definitely a match. The word was written in childish, blockish handwriting.His eyes met hers. Part of him wanted to tell her that it could be coincidental. But he was a logical man. Unless Vanessa wrote the note and threw the rock through her own windshield, someone had slipped into her apartment at some point and retrieved the stationery from her desk. That had to be taken seriously.Vanessa fixed her glasses, her bottom lip trembling as she spoke. “Someone’s been in my apartment.”His chest tightened as real fear snaked up his spine. “I think it’s time that I look at those notes.” —-------So many different emotions swirled through Vanessa as she sat in her living room, watching Alaric pore over the notes in her kitchen. Anger. Frustration. Fear. They mingled together, causing her to go from furious to terrified in seconds and giving her one fierce headache. Som