What A Girl Wants by Liz Maverick

dead. . . .”
    Just as she said the word “amazing,” Grant’s arm started forward in a Heisman, and by the time the word “dead” came out of her mouth, his palm was firmly planted against the wall next to her ear. He leaned down and looked into her face with about six inches between them.
    â€œYou’re saying that Fred Leary may have killed himself over grammar?” The corner of his mouth twitched.
    Hayley swallowed and finished weakly. “Or maybe it was just natural causes?” God. How lame.
    â€œYou seem nervous. I don’t mean to make you nervous.”
    He thinks I seem nervous. Yes, I’m nervous, you big idiot. My insides feel like smashed atom particles stuck in the Stanford Linear Accelerator supercollider. Not to mention there’s serious personal-space violation going on here.
    With his free hand, Grant suddenly raked his fingers lightlythrough Hayley’s hair. It took him right up close to her to do it. “Fluff.”
    Fluff is right. My brain is fluff. Hayley noticed that he didn’t back away once he’d rubbed his fingers together and disposed of this mystery fluff. Hayley wiped her sweaty palms against the fabric of her skirt.
    God, how did one reel in a guy like that without appearing obvious? She definitely wanted him. Of course, she’d just proved to herself a few days ago that being obvious wasn’t necessarily a problem. If only she had that green dress . . . or not even the dress. She’d settle for the wig. Or the boobs—she’d even wear the boobs again.
    I can’t do this on my own. Oh, stop it. Yes, you can. Get a hold of yourself.
    She released a breath of air she’d been holding for way longer than was healthy, and said, “Well. It’s nice to see you again.”
    â€œYeah, I’m actually here on official business.” He winked.
    Why the wink? Why the wink! Suz, where are you . . . what does he mean by the wink?
    He seemed to be waiting for her to say or do something—Confess? What?—and the silence stretched out.
    Grant pushed off the wall and put his hand on her shoulder, pressing down gently. It was nonthreatening but definitely controlling. She could feel herself moving into that space—that space where hormones meet heat and ridiculous and humiliating things occur. It was not a space that she really wanted to be in. Because there would either be a bed and hot sex or forget it.
    There was not going to be any random, noncommittal groping taking place in the church confessional or any other vertically oriented casual space, no, sir.
    He cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize to you for my unprofessional behavior last week. You were clearly in emotionaldistress, and I probably took advantage of the situation. My behavior reflects on the entire San Francisco detective squad, and I stepped over the line.”
    Awwwww. Hayley melted a little. How sweet was that? “I’m not going to be arrested then.”
    â€œNo.” He laughed.
    Hayley bit her lower lip and looked up at Grant. “Not questioned in any way about Fred’s death?”
    â€œNot right now, anyway.” He smiled. “I don’t have enough time.”
    â€œThe point, then, is that you’re apologizing.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    She should ask him out. Right now. Immediately. This was too good to be true. A man who wasn’t afraid to say “I’m sorry.” It was like finding the Holy Grail.
    â€œApology accepted.” Hayley smiled back at him. “Not to mention, it wasn’t all your fault.” She thought she’d just about found the courage to get on with it and ask him out when he derailed the whole notion by tilting his head slightly and moistening his lips.
    Hayley’s eyes flew open wide. Oh, my God, he’s going to kiss me. He’s looking at my mouth. That’s a classic indicator.