Page 116 of Freeing Lark

“Wasn’t planning on letting her out of my sight.”

“Good. But don’t make it obvious.”

Hoot frowned. “She’s my date.”

“Exactly. You’re supposed to be distracted.”

Voodoo’s voice crackled through the comm. “Something tells me Hoot won’t have to pretend.”

“Voodoo.”

“Just saying.”

Hoot ignored him. Flint continued. “If there’s trouble, priority is Lark. We collect evidence only if it’s safe. No heroics.”

Hoot almost laughed at the irony. “Understood.”

The bathroom door opened. He turned. And forgot every damn thing he’d been about to say.

He’d seen her in jeans, wet clothes, borrowed clothes, half-asleep in his bed. He’d seen her exhausted, frightened, furious, and laughing so hard she’d nearly snorted coffee.

None of it prepared him for this.

The dress was deep emerald, the kind of color that made her eyes look brighter. It skimmed her curves without hiding them, falling just below her knees with a subtle slit that flashed a glimpse of leg when she moved. The neckline was elegant, showing off the graceful line of her collarbones and shoulders.

Her hair was loose, thick waves cascading over her shoulders and down her back. A pair of delicate gold earrings caught the light when she turned her head, and a simple bracelet circled her wrist.

Her makeup was understated. Softly lined eyes. A hint of blush. Rose-colored lips.

She looked beautiful. No. Beautiful wasn’t enough.

She looked like the kind of woman a man could spend the rest of his life discovering.

Lark stood in the doorway, ready for the party. Hoot stared. His comm crackled. “Hoot?” Flint asked.

He reached up and switched the channel off after muttering, “Later.” Then realized he’d been staring when one corner of her mouth lifted.

“Are you going to say something?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m thinking.”

“About?”

He walked toward her, his gaze making another slow pass over her. “That your mother is going to hate the dress.”

Lark’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“She’ll find something wrong with it.”

A laugh escaped her. “You think?”

“Definitely.” He stopped in front of her and gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. “But she’d be wrong.”

Her expression softened. “What do you think?”

Hoot’s thumb traced her cheek. “I think you look incredible.”