Page 26 of Hitched to My Enemy
She laughed softly. "That's one way of looking at it."
We dressed in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances or casual touches that spoke of newfound intimacy. I watched her transform back into Investigator Clarke—smoothing her hair, straightening her blouse, becoming once again the composed professional I'd first encountered. Yet now I knew what lay beneath that careful exterior, and the knowledge felt like a precious secret.
"We should get back to the investigation," she said finally, though her eyes lingered on me with unmistakable warmth. "The saboteur isn't going to identify themselves while we're... distracted."
"Excellently distracted," I corrected, earning another of those rare genuine smiles.
As we returned to the scattered financial records, reorganizing them on my desk where moments before we'd been lost in each other, I found myself wondering if our accidental marriage might have been the best mistake of my life.
Whatever came next—the saboteur's identity, the commission hearing, the Jade Petal's future—at least we'd face it together. And "together" with Harlow Clarke was rapidly becoming my preferred way to face anything.
Chapter Seven
Harlow
Sunlight spilled across unfamiliar sheets, warming my face and pulling me from sleep. For a moment, I drifted in that hazy space between dreams and consciousness, aware only of comfort and a lingering sense of satisfaction. Then memory crashed in—Easton's office, scattered financial documents, his hands on my skin, my name on his lips as we'd lost ourselves in each other.
My eyes flew open.
I was in Easton's bed. Again. But this time, without the excuse of alcohol or accidental matrimony. This had been a conscious choice.
The enormity of what I'd done sent panic flooding through me. I'd slept with the subject of my investigation. Willingly. Enthusiastically. Repeatedly. The ethical breach was staggering. My career, reputation, years of building credibility—all at risk. Worse, I might have compromised the very regulatory system I'd sworn to uphold.
I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest, scanning for my clothes. Unlike our wedding night, I remembered exactly how they'd been removed—Easton's deft fingers, his appreciative gaze, my own impatience as I'd pulled at his belt.
The bedroom door opened, and Easton appeared with two steaming mugs, wearing only pajama bottoms that rode low on his hips. The sight of him—sleep-tousled, bare-chested, a hint of stubble darkening his jaw—momentarily derailed my rising panic.
"You're awake," he said, his voice roughened with sleep. He approached, offering one of the mugs. "Perfect timing."
I accepted the coffee, inhaling its rich aroma. "Thank you."
He settled beside me on the edge of the bed, a careful distance between us. His consideration touched me—he was giving me space, allowing me to process.
"You're overthinking," he observed, sipping from his own mug.
"Professional hazard." My attempted smile felt brittle. "I've crossed every ethical line the commission has."
"Only some of them," he corrected with a hint of the charm that had gotten us into this situation. When I didn't respond to his humor, his expression sobered. "Harlow, do you regret last night?"
The question cut through my anxiety, forcing me to examine what I truly felt beneath the professional concerns. Did I regret it? The pleasure we'd shared, the vulnerability we'd shown each other, the way he'd looked at me as if I mattered beyond my usefulness?
"I should," I admitted, meeting his eyes. "But I don't."
Something softened in his expression, relief mingled with something warmer. "Neither do I."
"But that doesn't change the complications," I continued, clutching my coffee mug like a lifeline. "I'm conducting your regulatory review. There are strict guidelines about personal involvement with subjects of investigation."
"Those guidelines exist to prevent biased oversight," he pointed out. "Has what happened between us compromised your ability to assess the Jade Petal fairly?"
I considered this carefully. "No. If anything, I'm being more thorough because I know you're watching."
"And I'm cooperating more fully than I might have otherwise," he added. "We're achieving exactly what regulation is supposed to accomplish—transparent operation and rigorous oversight."
His logic was surprisingly sound, though I doubted the commission would appreciate the nuance. "Where do we go from here?" I asked, voicing the question that had hovered between us since our first kiss.
"Professionally, we continue our investigation. We find the saboteur, secure your commission's approval, and open the Jade Petal as scheduled." He set his mug on the nightstand, turning to face me more fully. "Personally... that's more complicated."
"Because of our accidental marriage?"
