Page 122 of Capture My Heart

″Paulie.”

She stopped.

″Don’t be a stranger.”

Her violet eyes crinkled. “You just want my mom’s lasagna.”

″It’s the best.”

″No, you are. See you later.” Paulie slipped out.

Trey stood silent. He had to have questions.

Amy took a long refreshing swig of the soda. “Spit it out. I know you are dying to ask.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m glad to see you can forgive her.”

Amy shrugged, peeling the label from the bottle. She should start her groveling now, but damn if she knew what to say.

″It gives me hope you can forgive me.” The words, soft and full of promise, stabbed her with so much force she’d swear he was yelling.

She lost all interest in the label. Somber eyes watched her.

″What? I should be the one asking for your forgiveness. I never should have hidden my father’s reprimand from you. I knew he was innocent. If he only could have cleared his name before he died.”

She’d seen that look before. Pity. She could take just about anything but not that. Not from Trey.

His warm hand touched hers. Flashes of the heat that hand could generate when it ran down her bare stomach filled her—memories of the inferno. If she was lucky, she’d get to feel that heat again.

″He didn’t need to. He was undercover.”

Her head whipped up. “What?”

″I thought you knew.”

″I did… I wanted to tell you but I couldn’t. How did you find out?”

″In the meeting this morning, Chief Martin said they gave your mother his Medal of Valor. I realized you wouldn’t have kept it from me unless there was a damn good reason.”

″The chief told my family that it was still an ongoing investigation and not only couldn’t we discuss it, but my father’s record wouldn’t reflect the accommodation until the case was closed.”

″Well, I still hope you can forgive me.” Trey squeezed her hand.

″You were doing your job. I don’t need to forgive you. Unless you’re referring to the fact that your skunk stole my medal.”

He took the pendent in his hand. His warm fingers brushed her chest. She inhaled at his touch.

″He does have good taste. He loves you.” He cleared his throat. “So do I.”

Amy stared into his gray eyes, warm with emotions she shared but didn’t want to voice now. “I love Stinky, too.”

He nodded. “Just Stinky.”

Her shoulder shrugged. “No, but I can’t say it now.”

″Why?”

″Because, it’s too cliche if I say it after you do.”