Free Yours for the Night by Samantha Hunter

enough girl, but out of her league, in my opinion. But she was willing to do the job cheap, and I thought, what the hell, I’d give her a chance. But to be honest, I don’t think she’s going to be able to pull it off. She’s too sweet for this line of work.”
    The woman said sweet like it was a character fault.
    “Thank you. The work I’m thinking about assigning her is quite important, and I don’t want to lose money.”
    “Oh, well, then, I would tell you to find a professional investigator. It’s probably going to cost you, but I wish I had now. Though if she can get some pictures of that lousy, cheating husband of mine, I’ll call you back and give her a glowing review,” the woman said with a harsh laugh.
    Garrett was stunned silent, then murmured a thanks and hung up the phone just as Tiffany entered the office.
    “Okay, all done. All I need to do is set the alarm and lock the door behind us, and we’re out of here.”
    Garrett blinked, looking at her more closely.
    Tiffany? A private investigator?
    He had a hard time getting his mind around it, and then thought about all of the mystery novels in her apartment. Then he remembered the camera and notebooks he’d seen on the backseat of her car when they’d driven to the rehearsal dinner, and suddenly it all made sense.
    So that’s why she’d been in a hurry to leave that night—she was doing surveillance on Sally Hooper’s lousy, cheating husband. Not very successfully, apparently.
    “Earth to Garrett?” She waved a hand in front of his face, and he smiled, snapping to.
    “Right. Sorry. Let’s go,” he said, planting his fingers lightly at the curve of her back as they left, his mind still processing the fact that Tiffany was moonlighting as a P.I.
    On the trip back to her place, they didn’t talk much, as she seemed to nod off easily, snapping herself awake only to nod off again. It was the right move not to let her drive.
    He thought about bringing it up—telling her that he knew—but couldn’t imagine it would go over too well that he had snooped on her phone and into her personal business.
    At the same time, he couldn’t help but be concerned. P.I.s did some nasty, dangerous work. Tiffany might think it was like her mystery novels, but tracking down guys cheating on their wives wasn’t a safe enterprise. According to Mrs. Hooper, Tiffany was new to this—very new—and so her risks were even higher.
    Pulling into a parking space at her building, he looked over to find her passed out, head propped against the window. He’d decide how to handle this, but for the moment, he just had to get her up to her apartment.
    “Tiff? Wake up,” he said, shaking her gently.
    She opened her eyes blearily, only to land her head back on the car window again with a soft thunk . She didn’t even seem to notice.
    Garrett got out, fishing her key out of her bag, and grabbed the notebook and camera from the backseat before pulling her up into his arms.
    “Wassha doin’?” she asked tiredly, pushing away a bit.
    “Getting you to your apartment,” he said, unable to resist planting a kiss on her forehead. She was sweet. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”
    She muttered something that sounded like “perfectly able to walk on my own,” and he grinned as she snuggled down, snoring again in seconds.
    Cuddled up against him, Tiffany didn’t look at all like a tough private investigator or a sophisticated jewelry store manager. She looked soft. Vulnerable. Like she needed someone to watch her back.
    Garrett figured he was the man to do it.
    * * *
    M ONDAY MORNING , T IFFANY WOKE UP in a panic, not even remembering having fallen asleep, but as soon as her vision cleared, she realized she was snug in her own bed.
    In her underwear. Her clothes were tossed in the basket in the corner, and a glance at the alarm clock showed it was just after dawn, soft sunlight just starting to filter through the curtains.
    Garrett. Her mind went back to the last minutes