What the hell had possessed him tonight? He’d been avoiding this for months. He’d even thought about asking for a transfer out of Detroit—away from temptation. Now it was too late. You could get fired for this, idiot. Worse, this kind of distraction, the way he had of thinking of her at the worst moments, could get him, or someone else, killed. He picked up the condom wrapper and checked the expiration date. Last week. Yeesh. It was a good thing she said she had it covered, though he figured six days past the sell-by probably meant it was still good. There had to be some kind of padding in the timeline, right? The living room opened onto the kitchen area, so he walked over to the garbage can and tossed the offending foil packet. A few minutes later, Lana returned, wrapped head to toe in a dark violet chenille robe, her arms crossed over her chest. “How’s your back?” “Fully healed.” The scratches had been just that, easily dealt with even given his limited healing ability.
