“No. It doesn’t match my manicure.” I raised my hands, flashing him the blue nails.

He laughed again and then he sobered up, just like that. Cop Face was on, and yeah . . . the low coiling in my stomach told me I found Cop Face arousing. “You’re lucky. He could’ve pressed charges, and this conversation would be going in a whole different direction.”

My own half smile slipped off my face. “I know. It’s . . . I was just with Charlie, and he’s . . .” Unable to continue, I forced a casual shrug I didn’t feel. “What are you going to do with me?”

His lips parted as his chest rose with a deep breath, then his gaze dropped to my mouth, and his expression tightened. He looked . . . he looked hungry. “I have lots of ideas.”

Warmth invaded me in the form of a slow burn. His thick lashes lifted, and I was lost in the depths of his blue eyes. My fingers itched to touch him like I had that night so long ago—­to sink my fingers into his damp hair, to smooth my hands over his hard chest and stomach. I bit down on my lip as he moved his left hand and caught a piece of hair that had slipped out of my ponytail. He smoothed it back, and a wave of tight, hot shivers coursed down my spine. In an unconscious, oddly instinctual move, my hips lifted off the door, moving closer to his. That did not go unnoticed by Reece, and I wondered, what would he do if I touched him now? Dragged my hand down his chest, under his shirt? Touched his bare flesh?

God, just thinking about it almost made me moan.

A half smile formed on his lips as the blue of his eyes deepened. “What are you thinking, Roxy?”

Naughty, dirty thoughts I’d never share, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you for the roses.”

He arched a brow as some of the heat faded from his stare. “I didn’t send you roses.”

“Oh. Oh.” The moment between us was officially broken. “You didn’t?”

Pushing off the door, he dropped his arms to his sides. “No.” His lips pursed as he turned sideways, eyeing the roses on the desk. “Those flowers?”

“Yeah, those flowers. I thought they were from you.” I edged away from the door. “Are you sure you didn’t send them?”

The look on his face basically said what a dumb question that was.

“Well, this is awkward.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “The card didn’t have a name on it, and I honestly don’t know who they’d be from.”

He approached the flowers, running a finger over a dewy petal. “What did the card say?”

“Um, something like it’ll be better next time.”

Looking over his shoulder at me, he grinned. “I can see why you’d think it would be from me, but it wasn’t.”