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He’d find a way to prove it to her, he’d fight for her, make her believe that she was special and precious, and she was worth every ounce of effort he was putting into wooing her.

He wasn't used to having to work for a woman’s affections, but for some reason that was a turn on, he’d heard the saying that anything worth having was worth working for, but he’d never really understood it until now.

It was the very fact that Florence was both strong and confident, and insecure and vulnerable that made her so attractive.

So he would continue to pick her up in the mornings and drive her to work, then collect her at the end of the day, and he already had their next date all planned out for them, only this time he had gone in a completely different direction.

Climbing out of the car when it stopped in front of Florence’s building, he made sure that the flowers were all straight in their bouquet and hadn't gotten mussed on the ride here.

Just as he was approaching the door, he saw a man go hurrying out, barging past him and nearly crashing into him in his haste.

As the man went past, he caught a whiff of subtle lavender that reminded him of Florence’s perfume.

Eli froze.

Had this man just left Florence’s apartment?

Did Florence have a boyfriend?

Was that why she had been shutting him out?

It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had used him for his money, maybe when he’d mentioned taking her to Florence she’d thought she’d play along, lead him on just enough to keep him interested, then cut him loose once she got what she wanted.

Anger burned inside him, and he turned to head back to the car.

He was halfway there when he stopped again. What was he thinking? This was Florence they were talking about, she was a cop, she didn't play games like that. If nothing else, he knew she wasn't lying when she’d told him about her childhood, the hurt in her eyes had been real, she couldn’t fake that.

Deciding that he was being foolish, Florence wasn't the only woman who wore lavender-scented perfumes, there was no reason to believe that the man had come from her apartment at all, Eli spun around and hurried inside out of the softly falling snow.

The lift seemed to take forever to arrive, and he waited impatiently.

Maybe part of him did believe the man had just left Florence’s apartment and he wanted to catch her in the act to either confirm or deny his suspicions.

It was wrong to doubt her, but she had been pushing him away, and he wanted to know the reason why.

If it wasn't because she was involved with another man then what was it?

Finally, the lift arrived, and when he got in he hit the button for Florence’s floor a little harder than necessary, but he was angry with himself.

He hated this sudden rush of insecurity where Florence was concerned.

That wasn't him, like Florence was always pointing out he was cocky, he knew he was good looking, charming, smart, and wealthy, and he didn't believe in false modesty.

He didn't tie himself up in knots obsessing over a woman.

But Florence wasn't just any woman.

She was special, and he felt like she had infected him, getting not just under his skin but embedded in every molecule of his being.

The doors to the lift opened, and he strode through them, trying to get himself under control before he saw Florence.

If he was all alpha and controlling when he knocked on her door she was going to shut that down pretty quickly, she was a cop, she probably spent all day with alpha males and knew how to put them in their place.

When he got to her door he came up short.

It was sitting slightly open.

For some reason, he didn't think Florence would leave her door open like that. Sure, she’d had a headache when he’d dropped her off last night, but she was lucid and cognizant.

Wasn't she?

Had she been sicker than he’d realized?

Was she lying passed out in there?

“Florence?” he called out as he knocked on the door.

There was no response, and as the door swung further open he saw a body lying on the floor half obscured by the sofa.

“Florence,” he said again, a little more panicked this time as he quickly surveyed the apartment.

When he didn't see anyone else he ran across to her, dropping to his knees at her side. She was lying sprawled on her stomach, wearing only a tank top and a pair of purple fuzzy pajama pants and he could see bruises on her wrist and blood streaking her blonde hair.

With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched her neck, searching for a pulse. He’d never done that before, and at first, he couldn’t find one. “Stop it, calm down,” he ordered himself as he pressed a little harder and was rewarded with the steady beating of her pulse.

“Florence, wake up. It’s Eli,” he added, not wanting her to panic when she regained consciousness to find a man looming over her.

She didn't respond, and knowing he was way out of his element here he pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as he stood and grabbed a throw from the back of the couch and tucked it around her.

“911 what's your emergency?”

“I just arrived at my girlfriend’s apartment to find her unconscious, she’s been attacked. Her name is Florence Harris, she’s a homicide detective.”

“Is she breathing?”

“Yes, but I see blood on her head and…” he trailed off as Florence stirred beneath him. “She’s waking up.”

“Please remain on the line, sir,” the 911 operator requested.

“I’ll keep the line open, but I'm putting the phone down,” he said, his attention focused on Florence. “Princess, it’s Eli, can you hear me?”

“Eli?” she said, her voice weak as she groggily tried to turn over.

“I don’t think you should be moving until the paramedics get here,” he told her, a hand on her shoulder gently holding her still.

“I'm okay,” she insisted.

Since he knew arguing with her was going to be futile, Eli slipped an arm around her shoulders and one under her knees and lifted her up. Carrying her to the couch, he sat down and set her on his lap, tucking her closely against his chest as he made sure the throw was wrapped around her.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I was hoping you were going to tell me that,” he replied as he brushed a lock of hair that had gotten stuck in the drying blood off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

“There was a man,” she said slowly, lifting a hand to press it to her forehead. “My head hurts.”

“It’s a little banged up,” he attempted a joke to calm both of them. His heart was racing a million miles a minute, and he wanted to get up and pace but didn't want to let Florence go and knew that with a killer headache the motion would probably make her nauseous.

“He…he…he said something important…but I can't remember…” Florence said haltingly, becoming agitated.

“Shh, princess,” he soothed, kissing the top of her head.

Florence needed him calm right now, so he’d better pull it together.

“It’s going to be okay. It will come back to you, I'm just glad that you're okay. When I walked in here and saw you lying there, and the blood…” He had to pause to drag in a ragged breath. “You scared the life out of me. I don’t want to lose you.”

Florence snuggled closer, resting her cheek on his chest as her hands curled into his sweater. “You were here again when I needed you.”

“I told you, you weren't alone anymore. I’ll always be here when you need me.”

“My savior,” she whispered.

“Always, princess.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head again and held them there, drawing in her sweet scent and savoring it because he knew he’d come very close to losing her. “Always.”

2:09 P.M.

It had been a long day.

She had sat on Eli’s lap until the paramedics arrived.

Both Eli and the medics thwarted her protests that a trip to the hospital wasn't necessary, so she’d gone there, endured tests, been poked and prodded, and then eventually released.

Eli had driven her home, but now that they were here, she had the monumental task of making it from the street up to her fifth-floor apartment to conquer.

“You know I could just carry you,” Eli said. His arm was wrapped around her waist, and although he was practically supporting most of her weight anyway, she shook her head.

“No, I can do it.” Being helpless was not a feeling with which she was familiar, and it made her uncomfortable. She was going to walk to the lift, stand in it, and then walk to her front door if it killed her.

“You know you have a concussion, you’re supposed to be taking it easy,” he reminded her as he opened the door to her building and helped her walk through it.

“And I will once we get upstairs,” she said, gritting her teeth and plowing forward. Giving up was not in her vocabulary.

“You call me cocky, I'm going to start calling you stubborn,” Eli muttered under his breath, but she heard the humor in his tone and knew he was just teasing her.

Although it sometimes drove her crazy, Florence secretly liked it when he teased her.

Growing up, she and Fletcher were more concerned with trying to stay alive, finding food to eat and clothes to wear, than teasing one another.

Even though they were adults now and both had jobs that paid the bills, they didn't have the traditional sibling relationship. But Eli’s teasing made her feel a levity that hadn't been a part of her life before.

Her legs felt heavy, and her head hadn't stopped drumming with a steady beat that seemed to send pain reverberating through her body, preventing her from thinking about anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

They made it all the way into the lift before Eli’s patience ran out. “This is ridiculous,” he snapped, scooping her up. “I think you’re strong and tough, you don’t have anything to prove.”