James assesses me with a brief glance, and I cannot for the life of me read the expression in his dark eyes. “I’m sure she could handle you on her own. But that doesn’t mean she should have to. Leave.” If I liked the way James stepped in to physically protect me, I love his verbal defense even more. I have a theory. It’s that every woman has two fantasies—one where she’s rescued by a dashing hero, and one where she doesn’t need a hero at all and rescues herself.
