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of feet captured a sea of silk and lace. Bras. Panties. Holy crap, garter belts.
    The dry cleaning bag brushed against a rack of nightgowns that rippled in response. He overcorrected and his other elbow knocked against a mannequin, wearing a little bit of nothing that would make a grown man beg. He grabbed a breast and managed to get it righted before it fell over.
    He felt like a bull in a china shop but it was all worth it when Meg, for the first time since he’d knocked on her office door, smiled at him. “Asking for her number?” she mocked.
    “Funny,” he said. Meg had always loved pretty underwear. And he’d loved seeing her in it. Buying it for her. The private modeling sessions that followed.
    He could hear the air-conditioning going full blast but his neck felt hot. The store was full of women. There were only two men and they were dutifully following their wives or girlfriends around the room. Directly across the wide room was a door that probably led to a backroom and then to the alley. If he stood by the cash register, he’d have a good view of the room and both possible exits. “I’ll wait up front,” he said.
    Meg took a shopping basket off the stack. “I won’t be long.”
    He hoped not. His eyes were starting to water. Somebody was wearing enough perfume to knock an elephant on its butt.
    Meg smelled the same. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d noticed that but it had been nagging at him. Her skin had always been so soft, so incredibly sexy, and her scent, some perfect combination of vanilla and her, had turned him on. Always.
    Six months ago, he’d awakened after surgery, thinking, Damn my leg hurts but at least I’m not dead, and he’d known she was there. He’d lain in the bed, keeping his eyes closed, content just to let her scent surround him.
    She was back. It had made getting shot worth it. A hundred times over.
    She’d held his hand. He hadn’t been in any shape to converse but that hadn’t kept the thoughts from tumbling around in his drugged-up head. I promise I’ll be a better husband. I promise I’ll be more in touch with what you need. I promise I’ll be enough.
    But he hadn’t had the opportunity to even try to deliver on those unspoken oaths. She’d held his hand, kissed his cheek, whispered goodbye and that was the last time he’d seen her until today.
    Who’d have thought that he’d be standing around watching her buy underwear? No matter that every item Meg dropped into her basket caused the heat on his neck to branch out until his whole body felt warm. No matter that he felt like a damn teenager because he was getting hard. No matter what. His job was to watch her. He’d somehow failed her before. And that couldn’t be changed. But he would not fail her with this.
    He shifted the dry cleaning, folding it over one arm, letting it hang in front of him. When Meg came up to the counter to pay for her items, he kept his eyes moving around the room, away from where the cashier was diligently wrapping every item in tissue paper. There was only so much temptation he could take.
    “Ready?” she asked.
    Oh, yeah. Ready, aimed poorly and about to fire. He opened the door, scanned the street and stepped out first. Meg followed and they walked back toward the hotel in silence. When they got to their rooms, he unlocked Meg’s door and checked it before letting her enter. “Do you want to rest before we eat?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “I’ll take a fast shower. Will that work for you?”
    What would really work for him was if she put on some of her new purchases and straddled his body and he—
    “Cruz?”
    “Yeah. Works for me.”
    * * *
    M EG STOOD UNDER the shower and let the hot water attempt to work the tension out of her shoulders, her back. Her mind. It had only been seven hours since Cruz had stood in her doorway and already she was a bundle of conflicting emotions. She wanted him gone. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted him to understand that she