Once I get him relaxed, I try to swing the conversation back to the charge, but even then, he doesn’t give me anything to work with. After a few hours, my second coffee cup is empty. “I should go,” I tell him. “I’ve got an early start in the morning.”

Drafting up his new charges.

I feel my mood drop down like a rock in water.

“Yeah,” he says.

I note the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, and I wish it didn’t, but it lifts my spirits a little.

Okay, a lot. And, yes, I know how screwed up this is. I’m about to charge this guy with possession of a Schedule II drug with intent to supply, and some people could say that I’ve just been on a date with him.

Not a date!

Shit.

We both stand and leave the coffee shop.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says when we’re out on the sidewalk.

“I took a cab here,” I tell him.

“Then I’ll drive you home,” he says.

And I don’t argue.

Chapter 11

I follow Grayson over to a shiny black Range Rover. “Nice car,” I say as he unlocks it.

“Thanks.” He opens the passenger door and I climb inside. He shuts the door behind me and makes his way around to the driver’s side.

I put my seat belt on as Grayson climbs in the car, buckles up, and starts the engine. He pulls out into traffic. I can’t help but watch him drive. There’s just something so incredibly sexy about watching a man like Grayson drive. Looking at his strong hands around the steering wheel has my mind wondering what his hands would feel like wrapped—

“So where am I going?” he asks, snapping me out of my reverie.

“What? Oh.” Flustered, I fire off my address to him. Then we slip off into silence. It’s not uncomfortable but definitely filled with tension on my part.

It doesn’t take us long to reach my place. I can’t deny that I’m disappointed that my time with him is over—until I see him in court, anyway. You know, since I’m trying to put him in prison and everything.

Grayson pulls into the parking lot to my building and kills the engine. The tension between us feels so much heavier now in the dark and silence. I’m very aware of the fact that we’re alone.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for inviting me to coffee. Even if it was to deliver bad news,” he says. He glances over at me and smiles.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was the one who made the decision to carry those drugs with me. I wasn’t going to sell them. But I had them. A lot of them. I have to face the consequences for what I’ve done.”

I shift in my seat, facing him. “See, you weren’t going to sell them. So why did you have so much on you? It doesn’t make sense to me.”