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“That thing,” she said, trying and faili

ng to hang onto it, “is my tote.”

“Is that what you call it? I thought it was a portable closet. How can you possibly lug all this stuff around?”

“Give it to me, Lieutenant. You will never be able to find—”

Chay dug into the tote and pulled out a set of keys.

“Which key?”

She glared at him. “Give them to me. You will never figure it out.”

He gave the keys a quick look, chose one and stabbed it into the lock.

The door swung open.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered.

Bianca looked at her living room. It was small and barely furnished, but calling it ridiculous was overkill.

“I like it,” she said stiffly. “And since I am the one who lives here—”

“Not your apartment. What’s ridiculous is no lock on the downstairs front door. A lock on the inner one that a kid could open with a paper clip. The same kind of lock on this door, and to make things worse, an entire army of muggers and thieves could come up behind you while you spend eternity digging for your keys in—that—”

“It is a tote bag.” Indignation glittered in her eyes. “And if you escorted me home so you could insult me, Lieutenant—”

“I escorted you home to make sure you got here in one piece.”

“Which I did.”

“And to tell you I behaved like an asshole that night in California.”

He hadn’t intended to say it quite that way. From the look of her, she hadn’t expected to hear it.

“Oh.”

The Tigress at a loss for words. Amazing.

“Oh,” she said again. “Well then, I accept your—”

“Could we have this conversation after I check out your apartment?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know for what. Errant phone calls. Looney Tunes patients. Just stand here while I take a fast look, okay?”

He dropped the tote on the floor.

She huffed out a breath, folded her arms, waited impatiently while he moved quickly through the dollhouse-size living room, bedroom, kitchen and bath. In truth, she was glad he was doing it. Surely his diligence was unnecessary, but she had to admit that it was comforting.

“Okay.” He came back to her, put his palm against the door and slammed it shut. “And you’re got it wrong. I’m not apologizing for making love to you.”

Bianca slapped her hands on her hips. “I should have known better than to think you would behave like a gentleman.”

“I wasn’t one. Not that night. And that suited you just fine.”

His hand was still splayed against the door; she was trapped between his raised arm and the wall. Close. Too close. He was all heat and masculinity, and she didn’t like the feeling it gave her.