Free Champagne Cravings by Ava McKnight

know,” I said before draining my glass. “I didn’t take
a stand for myself. I didn’t fight back, the way Biel did.” There was more to
it than that. The network had killed the story. They’d erased my hard drive.
They’d put the fear of God—i.e. lost jobs and ruined careers—into the few
people I’d enlisted to help air the story, and no one had uttered a word after
that. Including me.
    It had taken way too long for someone to stand up for those
women and children who’d sought refuge at the shelter that almost closed. That
was the true travesty, not my professional demise. It was also the source of my
never-ending guilt and remorse, because I’d actually let The Powers That Be execute a gag order and chase me out of town.
    “Lace,” Mike said as he settled back against the pile of
pillows in the corner of the L-shaped sofa. He lifted my legs and draped them
over his as I propped a shoulder against my own cushions and stared at him. “No
one’s going to hold Biel McKinley responsible for someone switching her makeup.
She really doesn’t have that much at stake.”
    “I beg to differ. Her reaction could have been scrutinized
and considered detrimental to her career. I’m just saying I admire the way she
bounced back.”
    He smiled softly as his large hand moved up my calf to my
knee, his fingers teasing the sensitive underside, making me squirm on the seat
at the intimate and arousing touch, despite the long pants I wore.
    “You didn’t cower in a corner either. You found a different
way to fight the good fight. You got certified in fraud and abuse and hung out
a different kind of investigative services shingle. Now you solve crimes and
force restitution by revealing dirty deeds in corporate America. You could have
taken a safer route, becoming a waitress or joining the secretary pool, leaving
your instincts and desire to uncover seedy doings behind. But you were too
strong to simply walk away from your calling.”
    His hand inched higher, sweeping over my thigh. I needed a
life preserver to keep from drowning in his ocean-blue eyes, and my body
tingled from head to toe, even though he only touched my leg. The man had the
ability to do crazy-wicked things to my insides on a physical level, but he
also stirred my emotions. He was in-tune with everything swirling around inside
me, knowing the demons that tormented me. And knowing how to help me cage said
demons, even though I was still, five years after the fact, incapable of
slaying them for good.
    “Thanks for getting me,” I told him. “And for being so
supportive.”
    “At the end of the day, we’re friends, right?”
    I nodded, a lump of emotion in my throat. He was saying and
doing all the right things to make me believe in what was quickly transpiring
between us, this new level of personal involvement being built upon a solid
foundation we’d enjoyed for three years. Just as he’d said he’d hoped to do
last night. I took it all very seriously, because he deserved that from me. I
only wished I was a bit more stable psychologically when it came to
relationships to kick the fears I had.
    Composing myself, I said, “I appreciate your viewpoint.”
    He grinned sexily at me. “Time to swap boxes?”
    “Yeah.” I handed over the cashew chicken and reached for his
Mongolian beef. This part of our association was comfortable and synchronized.
It wasn’t the frenzied chaos we’d experienced last night in my dressing room. I
liked both scenarios, truth be told.
    But there was something tickling the back of my brain that,
after we’d polished off the food, made me say, “I think I could learn a thing
or two from Biel. About not being so closed off and…I don’t know. Afraid of any
sort of unexpected turmoil or controversy. I really admire her. She’s
like…Teflon.”
    He laughed softly as he moved from the sofa and scooped up
empty containers to take to the trashcan in my kitchen. He asked, “Should I be
jealous?”
    “Well, apparently,