Strong and Sexy

by Jill Shalvis

  “Don’t worry. Gray will blend in nicely with your color.”

  “Not funny.”

  Through the phone, she heard a car start up. A Porsche. “Shayne, seriously. Stay put. I’m calling the police right now. I’m getting out of here.”

  “Where to?”

  “The zoo. I work there. It’ll be fine.” There was that word again, fine. She’d used it so much tonight it didn’t even sound like a word anymore.

  “Don’t tell me you are going to walk.”

  “Okay.” She winced. “I won’t tell you.”

  “Jesus Christ. Another ten gray hairs just popped out on my head.”

  “Look, I was going to knock on Alan’s door, but his place is dark.”

  “That’s because it’s the middle of the night. Can you get to the street? Near one of the lights?”

  “Yes.” Glancing behind her as she took the stairs, she saw no one, not a person, not another car, nothing. Sort of becoming a thing with her tonight. She got to the ground floor and moved toward the street. With a little distance, she began to breathe easier. “Seriously. This is silly.”

  “If it turns out to be silly, then we can laugh and move on.”

  “Gray hair and all?”

  “Gray hair and all. But for right now, go with scary, and stay out of dark places. I’m nearly there.”

  She didn’t know what to say or how to feel about the fact that his rushing over without question had brought a lump to her throat, so she quietly nodded. “Thanks,” she whispered, but the phone had died. She’d gone outside the parameters. Completely alone, she hugged the wall behind her and hoped he hurried.

  Maddie sat at a bar looking at her date, wondering what the hell she’d been thinking. She’d met him at the party tonight, had agreed to this drink because he’d been funny and gorgeous and smart, but as she watched his lips moving while he talked, she wished . . . hell.

  She wished it was Brody who’d wanted the nightcap with her.

  Stupid.

  She’d taken the job at Sky High out of desperation. She’d needed money, and more than that, she’d needed security, both of which had been in short supply most of her life. So she’d bullshitted her way into the job, thinking how hard could it be to make flight reservations and keep the clients happy?

  Turned out to be a lot more complicated than that, and a lot harder. The guys—Noah the sexy intellectual, Shayne the carefree playboy, and Brody the wild pilot rebel—had seen through her B.S. immediately, of course, each of them being just as street-smart as she, but still they’d hired her.

  They’d taken a real chance on her.

  But it turned out that she had a real knack for the organization required, for making things happen. For making people happy.

  Who’d have thought?

  She’d saved the guys’ collective ass in their first year, and they’d saved her too, without even knowing it. They’d given her that sense of security she’d craved, and a place where she’d been accepted, no matter what. She’d love them for that alone, but it went deeper. They trusted her, and in return, she’d been able to learn to trust again as well.

  And in a shockingly short amount of time, Sky High Air had become home, and the guys her brothers.

  But nothing about Brody felt as comfortable as a sibling or a kid. Nope, the man made her sweat, pure and simple.

  She hated to sweat.

  The problem was her own, of course. Yes, she was damn good at what she did, and yes, she’d made herself completely indispensable. But in doing so she’d also made herself a part of the family.

  As a result, there was no way in hell that Brody would touch her now, not the way she dreamed of him touching her. It made her ache, but if she had to choose between having him or having the job, the job would win.

  Every time.

  Cold consolation when she excused herself from her date and walked toward the front of the bar just as Brody was coming in, with a tall, gorgeous brunette.

  So tall. So gorgeous.

  Damn.

  He’d taken her advice. He’d started to “live it.” Terrific time for him to listen to her.

  He didn’t see her, he was too busy laughing with Barbie Doll—as he never did with her.

  All about the job, she reminded herself. Not the man. Which was really just more cold consolation . . .

  Chapter 7

  Distance, Shayne reminded himself on the drive to Dani’s. The trick was to remain a little distant. Shouldn’t be a problem, he was a master of distant, and any who knew him would be able to swear to that in a court of law.

  But no more than six minutes after Dani had hung up on him, he pulled up to her apartment building.

  For the second time.

  He had no idea what to expect, or what he thought he could do, and twice on the way over he’d nearly turned around, and would have, except for one thing.

  She’d been genuinely terrified.

  As he parked, she came out from beneath the awning on the front porch and into the rain, moving like a shimmering wet dream. Her hair was down, still wet, clinging past her shoulders. Out of her black dress now, she wore only an extremely wet T-shirt and boxer shorts, no longer looking awkward and out of her league, but like a hot, drenched, curvy woman who deserved the trophy at a wet T-shirt contest. Holy shit.

  Yeah, that was some great distance he was maintaining.

  She opened the passenger door of the Porsche before he’d pulled the parking brake, and certainly before he could get out of the car to open her door for her.

  “Sorry,” she gasped, shoving back the streaming wet strands of her hair. It fell in tangled, wet waves past her shoulders, as wild as her eyes.

  He tore his own off her body. “For?”

  She lifted her hands helplessly. “For making your car all wet for the second time tonight. For calling you in the first place. For kissing you. I don’t know, pick one.”

  Reaching into the back seat, he handed her the coat she’d left at the party. “Yours?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged into it and hugged herself tight.

  “There’s no need to apologize for any of this.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Okay.” She licked her lips, an entirely innocent and uncalculated gesture, but it still shot a bolt of heat right through him. “If you’re sure,” she said softly. She hadn’t buttoned her coat, and with her hands fiddling in her hair, it fell open enough to remind him—hot, wet female.

  No bra.

  And, he could only figure, no panties. Though why he even went there, he had no idea.

  “Shayne?”

  He had to clear his throat and forced himself to look away. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  Distance. Keep it. Repeating the words like a mantra to himself, he turned off the engine.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going up to check out your place.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  Arching a brow, he turned to face her. “Did you call the police, then?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Truth?”

  “Please.”

  “I think . . .” Embarrassment crossed her face. “I think I probably just imagined everything.”

  He studied her for a long moment. Her eyes were haunted, her mouth grim. “You don’t believe that.”

  She lifted a shoulder, and he sighed. “So what’s your plan? Go to work in your pj’s?”

  Again she lifted a shoulder.

  “I can’t just leave you here, Dani.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “Is there someone you could call to come stay with you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re the queen of no’s tonight, you know that?”

  She let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I just . . . I don’t like to lean on people.”

  “Trust me. I get that. Hell, I live that. But you shouldn’t be alone. Not tonight.”

  Turning t
o him, she flashed those wide, gorgeous dark eyes, filled with . . . ah, hell, hurt. “Because I’m crazy?”

  Crazy beautiful. “I didn’t say that.”

  “If you could please just take me to the zoo, I’ll handle it from there.”

  “Dani—”

  “Please.”

  She had a strand of hair stuck to her jaw, another along her throat, curling down to her collarbone. She had a drop of water on her nose, and as he watched, it fell to a breast.

  Her T-shirt, white and thin, was really quite sheer. He was certain he should tell her, or at least reach in and close her coat.

  Be the gentleman.

  But he didn’t say a word, which undoubtedly made him a jerk. She’d been right not to want to go out with him.

  “Shayne?”

  “Yeah.” He shook his head at himself. “Yeah, I’ll take you to your work.”

  “Thank you.”

  He put the Porsche back in gear and pulled away. “So what do you do at the zoo?”

  “I’m a mammal keeper.”

  He arched a brow, surprised. “As in feed the bears?”

  “Feed, clean, monitor . . . and not just the bears. Today I was with the elephants. Tomorrow I’ll be with the primates.”

  “You’re not quite dressed for that.”

  “I have things to change into there.”

  Good. Great. He didn’t care because look at him, he was keeping his distance. “But we really should check out your apartment.”

  “No. I imagined it. I know that now. I’m sorry.”

  She was lying, but what could he do? Distance. Repeating that, he pulled out of the lot.

  The highway was deserted, and as he drove into the dark, stormy night he told himself he was doing the right thing, and that he would not, repeat not try to change her mind regarding getting involved, because getting involved would lead to things, things like more kissing, and that would be a bad, very, very bad way of maintaining his distance.

  Dani let out a relieved breath and leaned back into the soft, toasty interior of Shayne’s car. The heated leather crinkled around her, pulling her in, and she let out a shuddery sigh that undoubtedly gave away her relief and lingering fear. Going still, she glanced at him.

  Looking unruffled and perfectly at ease as he drove, as if he could be modeling for a car ad, Shayne cut his eyes to hers.

  He remained quietly calm, which she greatly admired. She wanted to be quietly calm. And he smelled good. How she could notice such a thing was beyond her, but he smelled yummy and looked even yummier with that hair tousled just enough that she wanted to run her fingers through it.

  “You’re staring at me,” he murmured.

  A short, mirthless laugh escaped her. “Sorry.”

  What he did next surprised her. He reached out and took her hand in his.

  She stared down at their entwined fingers, his long and tanned, work-roughened. And warm. So wonderfully warm. She pictured them gliding over the parts of her that were chilled, imagined how that would feel, and shivered again.

  “You really should have let me go up there,” he said, cranking up the heat.

  “No, it’s all right.”

  “Or called the police.”

  “If I’d called the police the two times you’d wanted me to tonight, I’d probably be at the station being held for a psych eval.”

  His silence was his agreement, and she sighed again. The rain had picked up even more, if that was possible, and when a large truck came at them, splashing copious amounts of water across the windshield, Shayne let go of her hand to put both of his on the steering wheel, fighting the slick road and wind.

  Feeling frozen from the inside out, she slipped her hands into her coat pockets—

  And went still as stone.

  Oh, God. “S—Shayne?”

  Still fighting the road, he didn’t glance over. “Yeah?”

  Heart kicking into full gear, she slowly pulled out what she’d found . . .

  A gun.

  Cool to the touch, surprisingly lightweight, it gleamed in her hand. As if it being lightweight was her biggest worry. Unable to believe she hadn’t felt it in her pocket, she just stared at it. “Um, Shayne?”

  He glanced over and executed a double take. “Jesus.” He jerked the car to the side of the road with a squeal of tires. “What the fuck is that?”

  She held it in the air between them as if it were a ticking bomb. “A g-gun?”

  “Why are you holding a gun, Dani?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Okay.” Watching her as if she was a spitting cobra, he nudged it aside. “Which is infinitely better than saying ‘I’m going to use it on you, Shayne.’ ”

  “You thought I—Ohmigod.”

  With the same slow care he’d have given the snake, he reached out and took it from her, then let out a long breath. “That’s better.”

  “I wasn’t going to—Is it real?”

  “Oh yeah.” He was staring at the gun in his fingers. “Definitely real.”

  “Oh, God.” She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. “How did a gun get in my pocket?”

  “Yeah, now see, I was kinda hoping you were going to tell me that story.” He held the gun with just his thumb and first finger, clearly trying not to get any more fingerprints than absolutely necessary on it now that he understood it wasn’t hers.

  And thank God he understood. She had to give it to him for his composed, relaxed nature. He hadn’t freaked.

  Which was good because she was freaking enough for the both of them. “It isn’t mine,” she whispered. “I swear it.”