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involved in their children’s lives. At least now she knew that he wasn’t some deadbeat, wasn’t someone who shied away from responsibility. Still, just because he was responsible enough to enforce the law didn’t mean he’d want any part in raising not one but two children with a near stranger.
    By the time the doctor knocked at the door and entered, the inside of Abby’s lower lip was torn and bleeding. She focused on the sting and the taste of copper, willing herself to hold it together at least until after her date with Sam that night. Then, if she needed to, she could come undone in the privacy of her apartment.
     
* * * * *
 
    Sam wasn’t exactly the world’s sharpest dresser. When he’d been a kid, his older sister had often critiqued his sense of style – or lack thereof – and had relished correcting what she’d deemed his “fashion crimes”. As an adult, he still cared little what his clothing looked like – when he was out of uniform, anyway – but tonight was a different story.
     
    He carefully selected an outfit from a closet full of deliberately neutral garments. He always avoided flashy stuff when he shopped, figuring the more basic he kept his wardrobe, the less likely he was to accidentally dress himself like a clown. The grey shirt and almost-new dark wash jeans he chose for the evening were so simple they had to be a safe choice. Besides, his sister had once advised him that grey was a good color for him – went well with his hair or something.
    He never would’ve admitted to her that he remembered her advice, let alone that he was actually following it in hopes of impressing a woman, but that was exactly what he did as he ironed the shirt to perfection, then donned the outfit.
    Was it too casual? He doubted his selection for a second as he glimpsed himself in the mirror mounted on the inside of his closet door. He’d made all the wrong impressions and done all the wrong things during his first night with Abby. He needed to set things straight now, couldn’t afford to fuck up and allow her to think that this was just another meaningless encounter – the last thing he intended the night to be was casual in the way their first had been.
    And yet, it wasn’t like they were going to the damn opera or something. Dinner and a movie, if she’d agree to see one with him. Dinner, at the very least – she’d already said yes to that over the phone.
    He shut the closet door before he could second-guess himself again. If he over-thought his clothes, he’d only end up wearing something asinine.
    He made sure his house was locked up before climbing into his car, but instead of heading to her place, he drove straight to the restaurant they’d agreed to have a meal at. She’d turned down his offer to pick her up.
    She was there when he arrived, sitting in the same car he’d walked her to in Hot Ink’s parking lot, a newish but modest little two-door. Her pale blonde hair shone from behind the driver’s side window like a beacon, and he abandoned his own vehicle at the sight of it, a small sense of satisfaction welling up inside him as he approached the coupe. At least they could walk into the restaurant together.
    She almost looked surprised when she turned to face him, her blue eyes wide. She stepped out of the car quickly though, swinging stunning bare legs out onto the pavement and gripping a purse by its strap.
    His heart rate picked up a little as his cock stiffened halfway, rendering his normally comfortable jeans too tight. Damn, she looked amazing in the little black dress she wore, one that hit high enough above the knee to remind him how it’d felt to have her legs wrapped around his waist. His excitement was potent, but edged with guilt. She hadn’t even wanted to ride in his car; she probably thought that all he wanted was to get in her pants again.
    As much as he wanted it – wanted her – that wasn’t the case.
    “Hi,” she said, smoothing her skirt and pulling on the