That word hadn’t been in her vocabulary eleven years ago. Christi Reece had known how to cajole and sweet-talk her way into getting whatever she wanted, but she’d never resorted to pleading.

Keep walking, Colby. You know she’s a master manipulator. Don’t be fooled again.

He resumed his retreat.

“Jack . . . please. I need help, and I-I don’t have anywhere else to t-turn.”

He hesitated again—and bit back a term that would have shocked his mother.

How could this woman who’d used him and hurt him still have the power to get under his skin?

But he’d always been a sucker for people in trouble—especially desperate ones.

And Christi sounded desperate.

Bracing, he slowly angled back.

Big mistake.

She’d followed him, stopping touching distance away. A brimming tear was poised to spill down her cheek.

A knot formed in his gut, and he took a quick step back.

Didn’t help.

Seeing this once-poised, self-assured woman reduced to tears activated a potent—and unwanted—protective instinct.

“What kind of help?” He shifted into the intimidating, wide-legged stance that served him well as a cop, shoring up his resolve to keep his distance.

“I need money. A loan. I’ll pay it back as fast as I can. With interest.”

Silence fell between them as he tried to process her request. Failed. Why would a woman from her wealthy background need money?

“You’ll have to explain that to me.”

“I just did. I need money.”

“Why don’t you ask your father?”

Her throat worked. “He died six years ago.”

Hard as he tried to quash it, a brief surge of sympathy swept over him. Losing her father would have been tough. Hard-nosed and snooty as the man had been, he’d doted on Christi. They’d been as tight as father and daughter could be. As she’d told him during that golden summer, it had been the two of them against the world after her mother died when she was ten.

Good as David Reece’s intentions may have been, however, giving his daughter everything she wanted had been a mistake. All he’d done was create a spoiled little rich girl—and a spoiled big rich girl.

Water under the bridge now. What was done was done.

But in light of her father’s generosity to his only offspring, why was she having money problems? As his sole heir, she should have inherited his estate.

“Are you telling me your father didn’t leave you well-fixed?”

She moistened her lips. “His businesses weren’t as successful near the end.”

He cocked his head. “As I recall, you had a penchant for designer clothes, first-class trips to Europe, and high-end resorts. Did you squander the inheritance?”

A shaft of pain darted through her eyes, and she dropped her gaze. Picked at a piece of lint on her jacket. “No.”

“Then why do you need money?”