He leaned in and kissed her square on the lips in front of her father, her sisters, the chief and the mayor. The mayor, for God’s sake!

“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” Nick whispered.

“Thank you,” she muttered. She planned to speak to him once again about his inappropriate PDA habit once they were back in that stupid limo he’d insisted on to transport them around the famously congested District of Columbia on their big day.

“The uniform is h-o-t,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll need a private viewing later.”

“Stop.” She pushed at his chest. Even through the suit she could make out the pronounced contours of his muscular pectorals.

His full, sexy mouth lifted into the smile that promised carnal delights, and Sam’s panties went damp. That was all it took, and he knew it.

As they partook in the coffee and pastry reception, Sam felt twitchy with anxiety as she waited to hear something—anything—from the scene of the domestic disturbance. Sipping her second diet cola of the day, she watched Nick share a laugh with her father and was grateful that the two of them had bonded over their shared concern for her safety. She wished they were a little less concerned, but hey, at least her father had stopped trying to intimidate Nick every chance he got—something Skip was still quite good at, even from his wheelchair.

Angela and Tracy materialized out of the crowd and linked their arms through Sam’s.

“Ready to move on to part two?” Tracy asked.

“Do I have to?” Sam asked, a shaft of pain through her midsection reminding her of her many worries about Nick’s new job. It also reminded her that she’d promised him she would have this annoying stomach situation checked by his doctor once the O’Connor case was closed. She hoped he would forget but knew he wouldn’t. “I need to get changed.”

“We’ll go with you,” Angela said.

Sam signaled to Nick that she’d be right back and headed for her new corner office in the detectives’ pit where she had stashed a change of clothes earlier. The suit she’d paid way too much for hung on a hook behind the door.

“Come in here and help me, you guys,” Sam called to her sisters. “I’m all thumbs.”

Angela and Tracy marched through the door and took over, changing Sam out of her uniform and into the black suit with a subtle silver pinstripe. The three-button jacket revealed just a hint of her substantial cleavage, but she worried it was too much. They capped off the outfit with Sam’s prized black Jimmy Choo heels and their grandmother’s pearls, which Sam hoped lent her an aura of respectability.

Angela helped Sam with the shoes, straightened and then wobbled. “Whoa,” she said, reaching for the wall to steady herself.

“What’s the matter?” Sam asked.