BAD Beginnings by Shelley Wall Page A

her precinct. She hesitated—would they expect her to go in or leave? Dammit all. Was she supposed to stick to him like glue for evidence purposes, or get the hell out in case they thought she was personally involved? Her head ached with the seesaw of priorities. How dare they think she would be interested in this guy! She watched Logan’s profile as he disappeared toward the door. Who was she kidding?
    “Wait!”
    He was almost to the door when she stepped out of the car. Now what? She had no idea.
    “Don’t you want your jacket back?”
    Okay, that was stupid. She had intended to keep the jacket and turn it over to the lab. As she watched him, she realized that maybe she should go for even better evidence. She should attempt to find something inside that would make her case. Support her efforts. Prove that the past two years hadn’t been a waste of time. Prove that the internal rumblings of her feminine side were just a fluke—a mechanism to save her career.
    Logan shrugged and slipped his hands into the pockets of designer slacks that hugged his hips a bit tighter than she remembered. Had he gained weight during the short time away? “Since I have about a dozen jackets just like that, I doubt I’ll miss one. You said you were cold.”
    “I did say that.” She knew she’d regret it but she pulled the jacket from her shoulders and walked to meet him. She held up the coat for him to take. “The car has a heater, I’ll be fine.”
    He glanced down the street. Had he seen the car watching them? “I like to drink a hot cup of tea when I’m cold.”
    He did? No kidding. “Me, too.” Uh, oh. What if he—
    “This is probably inappropriate, too, but…want some?”
    Shit.
    “Um, yeah?”

C hapter Seven
    B aden thought it funny that it mattered to her whether they were inappropriate –and that he should care. Nothing in his life had an ounce of propriety to it. Asking her in for warmth was exactly that. His time was getting shorter with every moment they stepped into public view. This life would be over for him any day. The near miss with his friendly D.A. was a hearty reminder. Gemma would be gone along with all this frickin’ finery. Forever.
    Why not have a memory that could last as long too? He motioned her toward the kitchen where the bird scratched a few seeds on the floor but otherwise remained quiet.
    Don’t be an idiot. Why would she bother with someone like you? Oh, right. Maybe because, for the moment, I’m not me—I’m him. And sadly, he wouldn’t even notice her. The idiot.
    Bam. Bam. Bam. The door rattled behind them as they moved toward the bar. Gemma jolted and dropped her bag. He lunged down, scooping it just before her fingers brushed his. “Someone’s at the door,” she whispered.
    Neither of them moved. He slipped his hand around hers as she took the bag and watched for something in her expression. It was there. He knew enough to see the spark.
    The musical sound of the doorbell tried to break the electric current her fingers sent through his. Not happening. Without lights, her eyes were like shiny black glass. “Ignore it, they’ll go away.”
    As if to argue, more banging on the door followed his words. “Doesn’t sound like it.” She tensed and he realized there was fear lurking just below the sizzle. Of what? More impropriety? “Someone really wants you. You’d better get that.”
    No. Dammit. I’m not ready to give up yet. Go the fuck away. He dropped her fingers and stood, trying to invent a plan. Their car had just pulled away, so whoever it was saw them enter and knew they were here. Would they think she was involved? God, he’d never thought that far. By continuing the charade, would someone believe Gemma a part of his act? An accomplice.
    “Shhhh. Let’s tiptoe back to the other room and see if they leave. Get out of sight of the windows.” He toed off a shoe, then the other. In his sock feet, he slipped a hand down her leg and found the strap of her heel. Damn,