than just him to take down President Quintero. I doubt I’ll be getting away for a long time.”
“Come on, Lauren, Christmas is months away.” Mercer couldn’t understand why she was being so obstinate.
“I managed to get away this weekend so we could spend some time together. We’ve both earned it, but after this I can’t make any promises.”
Mercer thought he understood. As strange as it was, and as much as it hurt, he was grateful for her honesty. This wasn’t about her job. It was about them needing time to put the past weeks into perspective. The roller- coaster ride was coming to an end, and both were too shaky to commit to ride another one together. He’d been in this situation before. However, he was usually the one making the excuses to get away. He understood a little better the pain he’d caused other women, but that didn’t make him think he’d made the wrong call then or that Lauren was wrong now.
“Then if a weekend is the best I can get from you,” he said more brightly than he felt, “I have no choice but to take it.”
She touched his cheek. “Are you hurt?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But I’ll get over it.”
Her hand drifted down to his bare chest, and lower still. “I know just what to do to speed your recovery.”
“Why, Miss Lauren,” he said in an atrocious parody of her Georgia accent. “I thought fine antebellum women such as yourself don’t do such things.”
Throwing one leg over his waist, Lauren stripped off her shirt and purred, “Now, Mr. Philip, hasn’t anyone ever shown you what they really mean by Southern hospitality?”
