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insist.”
    Angie yawned. “Look, you guys can work that out without me. I’m beat. I’ll see you in the morning, Bran. G’night, Nick.”
    Angie waved and went back to bed.
    That left Brandee with Nick, not quite knowing what to do. She was exhausted, but it was too soon to invite him to her bedroom. Thankfully, he spoke first.
    “Well, I just wanted to check to be sure you got home okay, sweetheart. If you want, I’ll go and let you get your beauty sleep…not that you need it.” He grinned.
    Every one of his killer grins and corny lines affected her the same way. They gave her hope and made her nervous at the same time. I hope he really has changed. If he left me now, I’d be so disappointed.
    “Don’t go. We need to talk.”
    ***
    Nick took a deep breath. “Okay.” He had come up with a scenario in case she wanted to know what happened. Of course she’d want to know what happened. Hopefully after the meager explanation he’d come up with, he could distract her—somehow.
    She led him to the couch and they sat side by side. “So, Nick. I’m really confused. How did we spend our evening and why can’t I remember?”
    “We were walking through the Common, and I’d planned to take you to the Ritz for a drink before we decided where to go for dinner. That’s when the tornado touched down.” Thank goodness for weird weather right when I needed an excuse for weirder things.
    “And you’re saying I forgot everything that happened after that?”
    He shrugged. “I guess so. You were knocked out so I carried you to my apartment. When you came to, you seemed kind of out of it.”
    “Is that when you asked Anthony to take me home?”
    “I waited until you seemed physically stable, but I got called away. I thought you’d be more comfortable in your own bed.”
    “So you didn’t take advantage of me?”
    His eyebrows shot up. “Of course not. What kind of guy do you think I am?”
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve known you for about a year—ever since I started working at the bar. You seem like a good guy, but I don’t really know anything about you.”
    This was the distraction he had been looking for. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”
    “Okay. Why did you quit being a cop?”
    As uncomfortable a subject as it was, he’d prefer talking about that to talking about what happened that night.
    “I have an identical twin. He was in trouble with the law more than once and was eventually tried in a high-profile case. People saw his face on TV and plastered all over the newspapers last year. Plenty of people mistook me for my brother, and even my fellow cops thought I must have had something to do with it.”
    “I don’t pay attention to the news, I’m afraid. It’s all bad anyway. So what was he accused of?”
    “Remember the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum heist?”
    “Oh, my Rembrandt. That’s terrible. I love art and art museums. It broke my heart to see the empty frames where priceless paintings used to be.”
    “My brother was the last person who’d do something like that, but he was set up. The fact that the robbers wore Boston Police uniforms to get past the security guards convinced the rumor mill I had something to do with it. I wasn’t even a cop at the time.”
    “Then how could they blame you?”
    “The public didn’t know how long I had been a cop. And even if they did, people believe what they want to believe.”
    “That sucks.” Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. I mean, that’s really awful.”
    He chuckled. “I like how you try to avoid offensive language, but why around me? I’ve certainly heard worse.”
    She blushed. “When I was in art school, my mouth was pretty filthy. I realized how bad I sounded after hearing myself on a friend’s answering machine. ‘Trailer trash’ was the term that sprang to mind. I attracted the wrong kind of guys back then. Eventually, I figured out why.”
    He put his arm around her shoulder. “I