Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

the titles of her articles. Once she sent her work to her editor, it was out of her hands. How much and how it would be published, as well as the headlines. Many times she’d complained to her superiors that she wasn’t happy about exactly what Troy had mentioned—a hard-hitting story that had cost her hours, days, months, was all distilled into a misleading banner that ensured the online readers would click through. And that print readers didn’t hesitate to buy the paper with their morning coffee. This wasn’t a time for explanations, or worse, justification.

“I’ll let myself out. Dominique, please come into the station as soon as you can, to file a full police report. I’ll file a preliminary one to ensure we keep a lookout for a man matching the description of your attacker. Both of you, stay safe.” Troy turned and walked to the door and she sat back down on the sofa, curling her feet under her. It was too hard to keep her guard up any longer. Exhaustion rolled over her but she knew it’d be hours, most likely days, before she enjoyed restful sleep.

“We’ll be there within the hour.” Stanton nodded at his cousin and watched him exit. Once the door clicked closed, he turned toward her. His eyes—still so startlingly blue—were full of ice shards. “Nice way to win friends and influence people there. I’m sure Troy won’t hesitate to give you his next scoop.” Stanton’s lush mouth pulled up on the left side, his sardonic admonishment unnecessary.

“I messed up. I said as much.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If she could get five minutes to herself. “Don’t you have work to do, you know, remotely? Where’s that laptop you like to spend all your time on?”

“I’m not the same man you knew two years ago.” She felt the sofa move as he sat at the opposite end. “I tend to leave work at work when I can. It means I’m at the office for longer hours, but at least by the time I get here, I’m done for the day.”

“Except when you work hands-on, like with me.” She blushed at the connotation. “I mean with protecting me. Now you’re on the clock twenty-four seven. Seriously, I think you should think about delegating this assignment to one of your agents. Your leadership is needed at the helm of Colton Protection, isn’t it?”

“You still think you know what’s best for everyone around you. What about you? You’re still chasing the Pulitzer like the Holy Grail. How has it worked out for you? You look exhausted to me, and it’s not just from today.”

She opened her eyes and stood, walked around the room on her sore feet. It was impossible to stay relaxed and quiet when Stanton was so close, and especially when he was grilling her.

“I’m the reporter, Stanton. I’ll ask the questions. You know enough about what I’m working on. Let’s turn the camera on you. How many more employees has Colton Security gained since—since two years ago?” She was still loath to mention their relationship, and disastrous breakup. Guilt nibbled on her conscience. It’d been brutal, the way she’d looked at Stanton in his naked glory, as he’d told her it was all-in with marriage, or nothing. She’d asked him to reconsider—still remembered the tears pouring down her cheeks—but he’d been adamant. “Marry me or we’re through, Dominique.” So hurt and confused by his hard line, she’d turned on her heel and gone to the bedroom, gotten dressed, then left. Except for the occasional run-in at a local event she was reporting on, where she did all she could to avoid him, they hadn’t spoken since. Until he’d tried to warn her about the attacker this morning.

“Fifteen. Twenty-three employees total, if you count administrative staff. I’ve opened a second office in Los Angeles that’s larger than here and appointed an office manager there. I’ve no desire to move to California. The occasional commute there is hard enough. But that hasn’t changed the smaller staff here, where we have six bodyguards.” He spoke in succinct syllables, without any hint of pride. His humility, no matter his incredible success, had drawn her in back then, made her want him all the more.

That was then, this is now.

“Was that the result of saving those big-name actors last year?” She’d read the AP report about a fan sneaking on a movie set, stalking an A-list actor who was guarded by Colton Protection. No one had been hurt, adding to Stanton’s firm’s stellar reputation.

“Mostly, yes.” He sounded impatient and she turned from the window to see him striding across the room toward the kitchen. “I’m hungry. Lunch?”

“No, I don’t think I can eat yet. I’d rather go to the station first, get this over with.” She shuddered. It wasn’t like her to go all vulnerable, but it wasn’t every day she got blindsided by a vicious attack. Having to narrate her experience again in the sterile environment of GGPD did not appeal at the moment.

“Try a little something. We could end up waiting a while for someone to take your statement.” He pulled salad items out of the refrigerator and set them on the granite counter. “Steak, salmon or chicken with your salad?”

She froze. This was too familiar. They’d fallen into a routine when they were together. They’d meet here for lunch, or rather, lunch after sex, and then go to her apartment for dinner and often, a sleepover. Stanton had insisted he preferred her bed even though his bed, his apartment, was far more luxurious and accommodating.

“I, uh, whatever you need to get rid of.” She’d lied, she was famished. But eating a meal in front of him, in his apartment, seemed so intimate. As if no time had passed, as if they were still together.

Too close.

He raised a brow but continued prepping two salad bowls, topping one with steak and the other salmon. He set hers in front of her at