She pictured him in his kitchen this morning, filling a glass with water for her and then walking her to her car. Since the day she’d met him, he’d been concerned and protective and nice to her, and just being in this room right now felt like a betrayal.

But she couldn’t think that way. This was business, not personal, and this entire situation showed why she never should have mixed the two.

Leigh studied her client, trying to be objective. Vanessa’s cool blue eyes swam with tears, but tears usually didn’t work on Leigh. She was too used to them. Something in Vanessa’s expression pulled at her, though—that combination of desperation and hopelessness that had been the center of Leigh’s own life two years ago.

A sharp rap sounded at the door, and they both turned to look. That would be Cooper.

“Just hear me out,” Vanessa said. “Please? There’s no one else I can turn to right now, and you’re my only lifeline.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Leigh stood beneath the hot spray, letting the water sluice over her tense shoulders. The pain was returning, slowly but surely taking over her skull.

A boomerang headache. Just what she needed tonight. She had hours of work to do, and she couldn’t take anything that would make her groggy.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and wiped the mirror with the side of her hand. She looked tired. And hungover, although she wasn’t. Leaning closer, she examined the raspberry-colored mark at the top of her right breast.

A hickey.

Leigh’s stomach fluttered as she remembered Brandon’s warm mouth lingering there. Throughout the night, he’d seemed drawn to that tender spot just above her tattoo.

Nerves filled her stomach as she thought of his mouth and his hands and his powerful body. And then she thought of him walking her down to her car without even a hint of resentment. She would have expected him to be sullen or cold when he caught her sneaking out at the crack of dawn. But apparently, he had more maturity than that, and she didn’t know why she was surprised.

Maybe because she’d dealt with so many jerks over the years, she’d developed low expectations when it came to men. It was a defense mechanism—she knew that—and the less she expected of people the less often she ended up disappointed. Brandon was different, though. More self-assured. And his basic decency permeated everything he did.

Which was one reason Leigh felt guilty over her meeting with Vanessa today. She couldn’t tell Brandon about it, and not just because of attorney-client privilege. Vanessa had specifically asked her not to, and Leigh had agreed. What she hadn’t agreed to do was help her set up a fake identity.

I can’t go to the police. I won’t.