He’d take her however he could get her and he wanted her at his side, for keeps.

Aware that it would be a hard sell, he was working on his pitch but he hadn’t gotten anywhere when Spence called him up to the roof. Few people knew about the best spot in the building, from which there was the kind of view of San Francisco and the entire bay that postcards were made of.

Spence had brought breakfast burritos and they sat, legs hanging over the edge of the five-story building, watching the world go by.

“What’s the occasion?” Archer asked.

“The week sucks. Breakfast burritos make it better.”

Archer looked over at him. Because while it was true—breakfast burritos did make everything better—there was more to this story, he could tell. He felt like a jerk because he’d been so focused on himself—and Elle—that he’d neglected his best friend. “You still working on that new drone prototype with Caleb?”

“We accidentally blew it up.”

Archer grimaced. “Sorry, man. How about your date this past weekend, the secret one you made me swear on my life not to tell anyone about—”

“Didn’t work out,” Spence said glumly.

“Why?”

“She’d looked me up.”

Shit. This was unfortunately all too common. Once a woman caught a whiff of Spence’s net worth, she usually pulled out all the stops to hook him. “I told you to let me vet her,” he said. He—or Elle or any of the others—always tried to vet all Spence’s dates because, although the guy was a genius, he had zero ability to weed out the ones looking for their MRS degrees.

“She seemed normal,” Spence said.

“But?”

“But she thought I’d be interested in getting married ASAP. No prenup.”

Archer had to laugh. “On date one, no less. She definitely gets this month’s Gold Digger Award.”

Spence shoved some more fries into his mouth. Spence often said much more with his silences than his words. He wasn’t shy or introverted but he could be quiet, focused on his work, and come off as uninterested.

Elle called him a sexy geek, but Archer knew the guy’s love life hadn’t been all that exciting.

Neither had Archer’s, until Elle. Now he felt both like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet and the most terrified because she had all the power. And that was a true first for him. “You ever been in love?” he asked.

Spence blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me a relationship question? Because you’re allergic to relationships, remember?”

Archer shifted uncomfortably, already sorry he’d brought it up, but it was too late now. “Well, have you?”

“Are we really going to talk about . . . love? The two most emotionally stunted guys I know?”

“Humor me,” Archer grated out.

“Okay then . . .” Spence shrugged. “Yeah. Or at least I thought I was. And you know this already.”

“But you felt like you’d protect her, no matter what?”

“Of course. Why?” Spence slid a look his way. “Do you, uh, love Elle? Wait. Shit. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.” He ran his hands over his face. “This way if Elle ever asks me if we talked about this, I can deny it.” He dropped his hands and glared at Archer. “But the next time you’re having an emotional meltdown, call a professional like Willa or Pru.”

“It’s not a meltdown,” Archer said, but he was talking to himself because Spence was walking to the stairwell door. “At least not a big one.”

He’d just gotten back to his office when Mollie buzzed to tell him that someone was there to see him. He looked at his schedule. “Who?” he asked, not seeing any appointments or meetings until later.

“Morgan Wheaton.”

He stilled. It’d been a long time since he’d heard or thought of Elle’s sister. “Send her in.”

Morgan walked into his office with the same easy, natural confidence her younger sister, Elle, usually displayed but there was a subtle difference.

Elle’s grace came naturally.

Morgan only imitated it.

“Well, look who traded up,” she said, eyeballing his office. “Nice digs.” She smiled but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “How’ve you been, Officer Hunt?”

“We both know I’m not a cop anymore.”

“No shit.” She walked to his window and looked out. It was only February but she wore a flimsy sundress with a thin denim jacket opened to reveal her assets. Her bare legs went on for days, and she wore the kind of sandals that strapped up her calves to her knees, all carefully orchestrated for maximum effect, which wasn’t that difficult to achieve with the Wheaton-family genes.

She looked a lot like Elle but with something important missing.

The spark of vulnerability.

Okay, so maybe Elle hid that spark every bit as well as her sister to most of the world, but he’d never had any trouble seeing it.

A fact he knew she hated.

“Nice view,” Morgan said from the window, taking in the marina, the bay, and the slice of the Golden Gate Bridge.

While she studied the sights, he leaned back and studied her. There was only two years’ difference in age between the sisters, but Morgan had always looked older than her years.

While acting much younger.

There was a quality to her that said life had sucked so far and she didn’t expect it to get much better, and it frustrated him. By keeping Elle safe that night, he’s ensured that both girls had gotten out without facing the cops, but only one of them had used the opportunity to change her life, turning herself around, and it wasn’t the sister standing at his window.

“What’s going on?” he asked her. Because something was going on, he was certain of it. She’d never have come here otherwise. She needed something and for whatever reason she thought he could give it to her.

“Not much,” she said with a shrug.

With Morgan, this could go easy or hard but he was going to guess hard. “You need something.”

She shrugged again.

Hard it is then, he thought. “Does Elle know you’re here?”

“I saw her last Thursday. She didn’t tell you? She took one look at me and shut the door in my face. Didn’t even want to talk.”