Susan May Warren - Point Of No Return

Chet?

He looked good, too. Dark curly hair, a little shorter than she remembered. Rumpled in a gray snap-button denim shirt rolled up just above the elbows. And a messenger bag slung across his chest. He stared at her with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to be able, in this moment, to stun her into silence. Chet Stryker. The man who’d told her that she couldn’t ever be on his team. That she couldn’t keep up.

That he didn’t want her in his life.

He had her off balance—that was why she let him drag her back toward the shadowy enclave between two doors. She was still reeling when he pushed her against the wall, bracketed her between his arms, and said tightly, “Can’t you listen to anything I say?”

And then, because it felt right, because he deserved it, because all her adrenaline suddenly peaked, she hit him again.

Square in the chest. “Apparently not.”

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