The treadmill slowed, and Jack gave Harley a treat. Climbing the ladder out of the pool, she dressed quickly.

Professional ethics kept her from loading Harley into her car and driving straight to Blake’s house. She wanted to comfort him. To hold him in her arms and maybe even slip her legs around him and absorb some of the pain he’d experienced.

When would she realize, she never did simple.

After drying Harley off with a towel, she got her settled in the SUV without any fuss. The dog was too tired to fight her. She lay across the backseat looking exhausted.

As Macy pulled up the long drive to her house, she quickly slammed on the brakes.

Harley growled at her.

The marine plaguing her thoughts sat on the tailgate of his truck more handsome than any man had the right to be.

What was going on?

Her body heated. One glance in the rearview and her cheeks were the color of primroses on a bright sunny day.

Every cell in her body screamed at her. She needed him just as much as he might need her.

Oh.

Cherie would start charging her by the hour.

But before she called her friend, she had to find out why the Blake was here in her driveway. His expression said the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders.

She let Harley out of the backseat.

“Hey,” she said as the dog ran up to Blake. He bent over and rubbed the animal’s ears.

Macy tried her best not to be jealous, but it wasn’t easy.

One small touch from Blake, and she already craved more.

“Hey,” he said eyeing her warily. “Sorry I just showed up. We need to talk.”

“About?”

“The fact that I touched you without your permission. I was taught better than that. I can write you a letter of apology if you’d like, but I thought it might mean more if I said it in person.”

She laughed. “Letters are so old-school. You could have texted me.”

He shrugged. “I kind of like the old-school ways, besides, I didn’t have your number. And there’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

She was in big, big trouble, she could confirm, because she wanted that, too.

* * *

“WOW. FOR A MARINE, you really aren’t afraid to tell it like it is.” Macy gave him a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. He’d made her uncomfortable, but he had to speak his mind. If she told him off, so be it, but he had to let her know how he felt.

If he’d learned anything the past six months, it was that life was short. And from his therapist, that the truth was important.

“It’s true. It’s who I am. And I understand you and I can’t— Well, that is, you have ethics. Some journalists don’t anymore, but I can see that you do. We have a connection. I’m fairly certain you’ve noticed it.”

She nodded.

Good, at least the attraction wasn’t one-sided.

“But you’re writing a story about me and that’s a conflict of interest.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So, I think I have a solution.”

She sat next to him on the tailgate and petted Harley.

“Don’t write the story.”

Immediately her back stiffened. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re the publisher of the paper, right? Your uncle left you the whole thing, so you make the decisions. Or you could have someone else write the story, though, I’m going to be honest—I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

She sighed. “Why do you have to be so—you.”

He chuckled. “I’m not sure what that means, but do you agree with me?”

“The story is already compromised because you do strange things to me, Lieutenant Michaels.”

He lifted her chin with his fingers and waited. She nodded her approval.

“Strange things?”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I always seem to be too warm when you’re around.”

“Hmm. Maybe you have a fever.” He held the back of his hand to her forehead. Then let his fingers trail down her cheek. He leaned in to kiss her.

Harley let loose with a harsh bark.

They broke apart chuckling.

A giant head was eye level with them. Harley’s paws were up on the tailgate, and she gave them a look that said break it up.

“I think she’s hungry,” Macy suggested. “I should feed her.”

The dog grumbled.

“Do you mind if I help?”

Macy pursed her lips.

“Hands off, I promise. I won’t touch you again until you ask me.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” she said.

“What? Feeding your dog? Surely she would disagree.”

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