Perfect Fling by Carly Phillips Page A

alone—with the shock, with the morning sickness, and on her own again when she’d been shot. She was only so strong, and that strength had fled with the nightmare. She needed comfort and she wanted it from Cole.
    Even if it was just for one night—and Lord knew they were experts at that.
    She held her breath as he pulled down the covers and climbed in behind her, too far away for her even to feel his body heat. That wasn’t going to work for her. She cleared her throat and rolled onto her other side, facing him.
    “I can’t sleep. Tell me a story,” she said, getting a chuckle from him.
    She liked his laugh, more because he didn’t do it often and she had to work for the ones he gave her.
    “What do you want to hear?” He propped himself up on his side.
    “How about what you’ve been up to the last few years?” she suggested, knowing he wouldn’t like the subject. “In general, if you can’t discuss specifics.”
    His frown told her she was right. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
    “Since you’re my baby’s father, I want to know more about you, and I don’t think asking about your past is unreasonable. You said you were undercover, so it must be serious.”
    “It is, when I’m living it. When a case is finished, it’s over.”
    She held his gaze, looking into his handsome face and refusing to let him off the hook. “I don’t think it is. At least not for you.”
    He cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one who had the bad dream? So shouldn’t we be talking about who or what could possibly be upsetting you?”
    Erin bit the inside of her cheek. “Good try. But I asked about you. How do you know so much about anxiety attacks and PTSD?”
    “I just suggested it as a possibility,” he muttered.
    “When most people would have attributed it to pregnancy. Come on, Cole. I’m not stupid. I see that something haunts you.”
    He shook his head and groaned. “You’re so damned stubborn,” he muttered.
    “It’s part of my job to push—but I really want to know you,” she said.
    “Then you must be damned good at it,” he said, and she knew he was close to cracking.
    “I am. Now talk.”
    “There’s not much to tell. It sure as hell isn’t glamorous. It’s dangerous, spending great lengths of time pretending to be someone else, living a fake life. It can blur the line between who you’re pretending to be and who you really are. Sometimes we have to do . . . things that are legally and morally wrong to ensure the greater good. As a result, stress reactions are normal.”
    Erin knew he was giving her a clinical reaction and description of his work, not the emotionally true one, but she’d take what she could get. “Go on,” she said softly, not wanting to break whatever spell had him revealing things to her.
    He stared at the ceiling and continued. “We’re trained to go in, to deal; and when we get out, we’re debriefed and shrinked until they believe we’re stable and can go back under. That’s how I know what you were feeling, and that’s why I suggested help.”
    She swallowed hard. “I’m getting help.”
    He raised an eyebrow.
    “I am! From you.” She answered his unspoken question. “You’re here for me. You diagnosed me,” she said with a grin. “That explanation helped me understand. And I haven’t had a panic attack since you held me in your arms afterward.” She stared into the face she trusted and released a contented sigh. “See? Feeling better already.”
    He narrowed his gaze, clearly uncertain if she was feeding him a line. She wasn’t. Not by a long shot. Everything about this man soothed her in ways she didn’t understand. Not when those very things screamed danger, both to her life and to her heart.
    “Anything else I can do to help?” he asked.
    Erin’s mind had already moved on from her nightmare to her greatest desire. He’d opened up to her and she felt closer to him emotionally, but it wasn’t enough. They’d been living together,