LITMIR.BIZ

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the side, as long as it didn’t interfere.

      “Catch up with me later,” Gigi said as the meeting wound down and the task force members started to disperse. “I’d like to have you take a look at a couple of soil samples.”

      Jenn nodded. “Will do.”

      Although all of the analysts in the six-person crime lab could handle a scene, they each had their strong suits when it came to the nitty-gritty: Alyssa was a whiz at facial reconstruction; Maya was a profiler; Cassie knew all the latest and greatest advances in DNA; Ravi was the local bugs-and-beasts expert; and Gigi was their crossover to active duty, with SWAT training in addition to a pedigreed résumé in crime scene analysis. Jenn was hell on wheels, literally: tire tracks, footprints, soil samples and other assorted smudges were foreign languages for her to decode—sometimes it took a while, but she could usually figure out what was going on, making her invaluable in the lab.

      “And besides,” Gigi shot over her shoulder, “I want to hear how the ‘interrogation’ goes!”

      Jenn laughed and waved her off. “I’ll see you later.”

      Stowing her cell in the pocket of the trim brown leather jacket she’d left on against the chilly air—which was only going to get worse as the winter wore on—Jenn grabbed the rest of her gear and headed for the far hallway, which led to the interrogation rooms.

      As she slipped through the same door Nick had used, giddy flutters took root in her stomach and she was suddenly very aware of the weight of her jacket and the way the sleek lining of her wool trousers slid across her skin. And when she reached Room Three, she paused for a second with her hand on the knob. Take it easy, she told herself. Play it cool.

      Not that this was a game, of course—they had both been up-front and honest with each other from the very beginning about what they wanted and what they could give. But that was before a first date that had them up and talking until sunrise, a third date that had culminated with the best sex of her life and a fourth date that had seen them moving his things out of the hotel and into her apartment because there didn’t appear to be any point in wasting the department’s money for the remainder of Nick’s two-week stint in Bear Claw. Which, it seemed, had just been given a stay of execution.

      Letting out a long, slow breath and trying not to be too obvious with the happy-happy-joy butterflies, she pushed through the door into Interrogation Three.

      The fifteen-by-twenty, gray-painted space, with its table and chairs, mirrored window and surveillance camera, should have been stark and unrelenting. But with Nick standing with his back to her, watching their reflections in the one-way glass, it became intimate instead. She saw his eyes in the mirror, saw him track her as she crossed the room and tossed her things on the table next to his bomber.

      She moved to stand beside him, liking the pair they made in the mirrored glass. She was a good eight inches shorter than his solid six feet, and had wavy brunette hair and curves that contrasted with his big, lethal body. Even their eyes were different—hers alight with interest and anticipation, his level, almost reserved. Cop’s eyes.

      Nerves stirred, but it was just his work face, she knew. Trying to meet him halfway on that one, she bumped him with her shoulder, coworker to coworker. “Hey. Way to give a girl the heads-up that you’re going to be sticking around. Guess I should lay in some more buffalo burgers.”

      Two weeks ago, she’d had nearly ten pounds of the stuff in her freezer, leftovers from a late-fall barbecue. Now she was down to three lonely patties, thanks to her and Nick’s habit of planning to go out for food, but then getting otherwise occupied in the bedroom. Or the couch. Or wherever. She’d been watching the supply dwindle as the days counted down, figuring they’d both hit zero at the same time. Now, though, she thought it would be nicely symbolic—whether he knew it or not—to replenish the stash.

      Except he wasn’t grinning at the inside joke. He was staring at her in the mirror with something more than reserve in his expression now. Something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

      The butterflies took a dive. “Nick?”

      He cleared his throat and turned to face her, so those killer eyes were looking down at her, guarded and, yes, guilty as he said, “Listen, Jenn…we need to talk.”

      And all she could think was, Oh, hell.

      * * *

       W E NEED TO TALK . For years now Nick had thought those were the worst words a man could hear, not because of what they meant, but because of what they symbolized—problems, issues, changes… .

      This was the first time, though, that he realized as much as it had sucked him to hear the words, it ripped him up even worse to say them to someone else. Especially someone like Jenn.

      She’d come into the room ready to celebrate, but now the light dimmed in her chocolate-brown eyes and the color drained from her face, making the sprinkling of freckles on her cheeks and nose stand out. “You didn’t ask your bosses to let you stay longer, did you?”

      “No, I didn’t. The DEA wants the Investor in custody before he hits any other cities with the Death Stare.”

      “What about you?” she asked. “What do you want?” And damned if her voice didn’t crack a little on the last word.

      “I…” He trailed off, guilt stinging at the sudden sign of vulnerability.

      She wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable, darn it. She was supposed to be gritty, tough and self-reliant—

      he wouldn’t have gone after her in the first place if she hadn’t been. More, she had been totally on board with the no-strings short-term fling that was all he ever offered. Heck, she was the one who’d brought up the ground rules in the first place.

      They’d wound up getting in way deeper than that, though, and from the look in her eyes, the lines had started to blur for her, far more than he’d suspected.

      Nick cursed himself inwardly. He should’ve stuck to his no-overnights policy, should’ve put the brakes on when things first started to slide. He didn’t like that he’d let things go as far as they had, didn’t like how his normal control had slipped. And he hated doing this to her now…but there was no way he could let things keep going the way they had been, or worse, let them go further.

      “I want…” Damn, this was harder than he’d thought it would be, and he’d known it would be hard—that was why he’d kept putting it off, not telling her there was a chance he’d be staying until it was an absolute done deal. He was paying for that now, though. “Tucker found me a two-room apartment around the corner that I can rent by the week. I’m moving in there today.”

      “You’re breaking up with me.” Her voice was a monotone, her face a pale mask.

      When he’d gone over it a hundred times in his head, he’d planned on saying something about how they’d agreed it was just for a couple of weeks, reminding her that they had promised when it was over, that they would walk away with no hard feelings. But they had already gone too far beyond where that would’ve made sense, so he just nodded. “I’m sorry, Jenn. I wish—”

      “Don’t.” She held up a hand, snapping that hard-eyed, determined mask of a poker face back in place. “Just don’t, okay? It’s… It’s like we said—a couple of weeks of fun. It’s been a couple of weeks, and tomorrow would’ve been goodbye, right?”

      He nodded, though he wasn’t sure it had really been a question. “Right.”

      “Then there’s nothing more to say.” She turned away to snag her stuff off the table, then stood there for a moment, shoulders stiff. He couldn’t see her face, didn’t know if she was fighting tears or anger, or both. Her voice was steady, though, when she said, “Don’t worry about any rumors, or seeing me around the station. I can handle it.”

      He winced, but couldn’t think of anything he could say that would make things better, and figured he shouldn’t try. The situation was the situation, and they

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