One More Night with You by Lisa Marie Perry Page B

directly in front of her.
    â€œJosephine, what the hell was that?”
    Joey slid the end of her cane on the sidewalk in front of her. “Don’t cross this line, Zaf. If you do, you’ll be in my personal space and I won’t like you much. If it helps, I got a great look at your butt. It’s a nice butt.”
    He drilled his fingers through his dark hair, wrecking his GQ millionaire look. Actually, the unbuttoned collar had done that. And the heat he was packing in his holster. And, yeah, that edge about him that had nothing to do with boardrooms and everything to do with hunting a threat.
    A threat targeted at her.
    â€œJo,” he pleaded quietly, and she slid her cane back a few inches. “I’m here to protect you. How can I prove that?”
    â€œOne question at a time,” she said. The cane retreated a few inches more, and then it was at her side, and she was letting him into her personal space. “You want to know what a man has to do to get me to himself?”
    â€œWe need privacy if we’re going to agree on a plan. A sidewalk on the Strip doesn’t say privacy to me.”
    â€œWhat does, then?” She watched him cross her invisible border, was suddenly and irrationally impatient for him to touch her the way he had before the violence had separated them. “Your hotel suite?”
    â€œWe could go with that, Jo. Nothing says privacy more than a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob.” Zaf leaned forward, knocking back her curls from her face. “But I’ve got something else in mind.”
    â€œWhat?” They began their trek back to the street that held their vehicles.
    â€œInvite me into your house. I want to sweep for bugs, tighten up the security. But I won’t cross that line unless you ask me to.”
    â€œSo we have changed, haven’t we?” She stopped, but this time didn’t let him leave her. “You used to know what I wanted without me needing to ask.”
    â€œI can’t take risks when it comes to you. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been wrong before—hurt you before.”
    â€œArchangel made me a victim,” she said pointedly. She had to do this, dredge up how his clouded judgment had failed them both. Who stood so close to her this moment? Zaf, the man who could laugh at a joke and fill her up with joy? Or Archangel, the messenger, the black-ops genius with a vendetta to settle?
    â€œI’m not him,” Zaf said. “I’m not the other guy. You need to know that I wasn’t really in league with that group. I wasn’t going to move drugs for them, but they had to think I was on their side because they were going to lead me to the sons of bitches who killed Raphael.”
    Raphael, his younger cousin from Pakistan who’d been murdered during a trip to the US.
    â€œYou didn’t turn? But no one told me it was a cover.”
    â€œOnly our team leader knew, Jo. It had to be that way.”
    â€œYou didn’t trust me with your plan...”
    He hadn’t trusted her, then she hadn’t trusted him, and devastation had wound up touching them both.
    â€œI messed up,” he said with regret. “Lying to you. Firing that weapon. I didn’t want to come back and reopen the wounds. I swear to you, I didn’t want this for you.”
    But here he was, in spite of himself.
    â€œWhat about what I want, Zaf?” Did he know? Did it even matter to him? She couldn’t find the words to guide him, but she ached, standing there unfulfilled and torn to pieces inside.
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jo.” The words grabbed her, yanked her closer until she was curling an arm around his waist. His mouth descended on hers. She didn’t care that they were on the street, in the way and on display for the mass of folks shopping and jogging and hurrying along.
    Someone bumped them and they parted.
    Breathing hard, she stared at the tears collected in