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of ‘us’ left to discuss.”
    A black brow rose. “You blew that theory the second I woke up to find you at my bedside, and reinforced it when you refused to allow another agent to work undercover with me.”
    Wasn’t much she could say to refute him, so she gave him that round. And she noticed that except to pay for their Chinese take-out, he didn’t let go of her hand the entire half-hour drive to her house.
    Beautiful son of a bitch.

    From the start of the meeting in Michael’s office and on every point since, Blaze had expected more resistance from Emma. More fight. Not that she hadn’t put up some, but he’d seen the woman at her glorious, raging best, and he didn’t know what to make of her now. This softer, more thoughtful Emma was new to him.
    And, he had to admit, very welcome. She’d never be a pushover—and he definitely didn’t want her to be—but he could tell she was wrestling with her moral compass. Questioning her choices, past and present. The old Emma had marched down the straight and narrow path, looking neither left nor right, and had missed a ton of fantastic scenery on her trek.
    The new Emma was beginning to wonder what she’d overlooked along the way.
    Could it be that he hadn’t totally ruined things between them? He’d give anything to salvage what they’d had, build on their fledgling love, make it stronger than before. Able to withstand the tests to come. And there would be plenty of those.
    He turned into her driveway and couldn’t help but smile at the flowers next to the house and lining the sidewalk. Their colorful heads bobbed in precise little rows, like soldiers ready to do battle. He envisioned Emma as their general, whipping them into perfect formation, making certain their tiny uniforms were matching, spit and polished.
    “What the heck are you smiling about now?”
    “Just admiring your flowers,” he said innocently, which earned him a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.
    “What’s wrong with my flowers?”
    “Nothing! Can’t a man compliment a lady on her garden?” Killing the engine, he grabbed the file they needed and opened his door.
    “Well, sure, if you’d said it like you meant it. Never mind.” She rolled her eyes and got out of the car with the take-out bag, shutting the door behind her.
    He fell into step with her, gesturing to the flower beds as they stepped onto her front porch. “Have you ever thought about throwing out some wildflower seeds? By this time next year they’d be gorgeous, spreading all over the pl—”
    “I knew it! We’re not even inside yet and you’re already planning how to improve my life, just like you always do!” Fishing her keys from her purse, she stabbed the correct one into the lock and let them inside.
    “That’s not fair,” he called after her, glancing around her tidy living room. Tidy, hell. The garden outside was a great indicator of the interior—everything in its place and so clean a man could eat off the floor. Nothing had changed. This might be a tougher job than you thought, Blaze old boy. “I’m only talking about flowers, for Christ’s sake.”
    “Sure, sure. Today it’s my blossoms, tomorrow my boobs. You’ll want me to get enhanced or something. In that, if nothing else, you are entirely predictable, Blaze Kelly.” She plunked her purse, the food, and the keys onto the table and faced him, hands on her lush hips.
    “You’ve got me all wrong, sweetness.” His gaze traveled upward, over the curve at her waist to the full breasts pushing at her blouse. And on to her striking face composed of a high forehead and model cheekbones, set off by huge blue eyes. Completing the picture was the short, soft blond hair sticking out in tufts and framing that wonderful face with a wispy fringe. A style that might look way butch on anyone else, but on Emma simply complemented her strong, fine features. Very feminine.
    “I don’t think so.”
    He stalked closer, invading her space. “I happen to cherish