Only grazed by he bullet, Robert Stahl lived. The projectile had scored a lengthy grooved along the side of his head, but after a night's stay at the nearest hospital to Harlee's, he'd been cleared, and was released. Guess who'd stayed by his side all during the night? Why had she stayed, ignoring Woz's confused, disapproving looks? Looks that she'd pretended not to see? The man that had lain with his head bandaged in the bed, hadn't been a F.B.I. agent, trying to get her for her crimes.

No. He'd been a man hurt, one wounded, vulnerable, which had been all she'd seen as she'd kept watch over him at bedside. The part of her heart that'd begun feeling something warm and fuzzy for him overruled Woz's criticism and off-color teasing. Not at all strange that Stahl had murmured, muttered, whispered, cried out her name in the throes of some vivid dream or nightmare. She had credited that to his deeply embedded fascination with her. As she'd sat with him, wondering to herself, going over his ruggedly handsome features with mellow, appreciative eyes, Harlee hadn't been able to deny herself the liberty of running the backs of her fingers against the smooth planes of his small-pored cheeks. When he'd said he was thirsty, hers were the fingers that held the straw to his lips. Hers were the lips telling him that everything was going to be all right.

And here he was, in her home, demanding that she roll over on Julia. Like old times. And she had no other choice, but to submit. Why? Because she owed him. A position she eschewed being in, but he had helped. Had tied up a very loose end with Bianchi. This was his idea of payback, for starters. 'You wash my back. I'll wash yours.'

He'd just love that; the two of us bathing together, Harlee thought, her mind wrinkling along with her nose. And yet, that other part of her that was drawn to him tingled at the idea.

Stahl nudged the little recording device on the countertop closer to her. He repeated the same thing he'd told her earlier. "You can't keep secrets from me, Harlee. When are you going to realize that?"

If she only knew how he know about these secrets. Harlee would have hung him out to dry.

"Here's a news flash. You're freaking me out. It's like I can't make a moved without you-boom-blowing up in my face."

Stahl thought he'd say something smart, but chose not to. Instead, he eyed her, wishing she would touch him again the way she had when she'd asked that favor of him. "It'll all be over soon." Even the way he'd said that left him exposed. He didn't want this game of cat and mouse to end. He liked seeing her at her wits' end. Even though they were even now, he still felt he owed her for staying with him. Oh, yes. He knew she'd never left his side despite the grogginess and disorientation he'd had to endure hospitalized.

He stepped around the kitchen island, coming to stand behind her. Her wild, unruly hair beckoned to his fingertips, imploring that he entangle his fingers in her silky lattice. Harlee closed her eyes, anticipating his touch, wondering if he would read her mind. Lately, that's all he seemed to be able to do. How did he know so much?

Stahl smiled behind her head and said, "What if I told you a secret of mine?"

Harlee's eyes shot open. The tone of his voice and what he'd said enticing her. "That's your call..."

He settled a hand on each of her shoulders, gratified that as his right hand scaled the side of her neck his fingertips absorbed her tremors, which she rued. "I'm indebted to you."

Time froze between them, all sense of it suspended.

Her supple neck twisted in his limber hand as she turned to face him. His smile flicked across his lips that quivered. Her eyes saw true conviction in his eyes. She marveled at never having seen them looking this nonpredatory. Thoroughly surprised, she asked, "Really? For what?"

"You didn't have to stay with me in the hospital. I knew you were there; you never left my side. You didn't have to, yet you did. Why?"

She allowed herself to absorb his question that struck her as being not as simple as he'd made it sound. "No F.B.I. agent's going to croak on my watch," she replied. "Just making sure you pulled through." Although it had sounded off-the-cuff, she knew he wasn't buying it. Why would he, knowing that her having feelings for him had begun to show.

"Whatever reason you did it, I owe you."

"No. You don't," she insisted, shutting her eyes again the moment he began cinching her throat tenderly with his fingers worshipping her flesh. Her protest died on her lips the moment his melded with hers. He treasuring her compliant sigh when it reached his ears. Against his lips, Harlee mumbled, "So does this mean Woz, me and the crew get a free pass?"

Drugged by her responsiveness, Stahl obediently uttered huskily, "That depends on what happens..."

"You mean..." She reached for him as she rose from the stool and her hands caressed his rock-hard pectorals, upper and lower. His hand around her neck eased its way to her collarbone, his fingers fanning out over it.

"I mean," he said so softly, she thought she was hearing wrong. "I need you to be on my side, Harlee, 'cause you want to be. Not because I'm coercing you. I want us to be friends..."

Her nose nuzzled his cheek, close to his mouth. "With benefits is what you mean."

He pressed the pads of his fingers more firmly against her incredibly soft skin and sighed. "The benefit being, we work together so we both get what we want." He reciprocated the nuzzle, burying his nose into her cheek, completely at home. "I'd rather you be my friend. Not my enemy, Harlee."

"I misjudged you," she whispered, finding his lips again, pressing into them heavily.

"I misjudged you too," he gasped, his mind reeling, drinking his fill. Brutal honesty, never tasting so good.