by Jill Shalvis
Noah had reacted in a very different manner than they’d all expected—he’d fallen in love with Bailey. And somehow, he’d come back to them, the Noah they all loved. He’d found his way back to the living, and Shayne and Brody and Maddie herself had all breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Life had gone on.
But now Shayne seemed . . . different. In crisis somehow, and she didn’t know what was going on, or how to help, how to make things better.
“What is it?”
In surprise, she looked up to find Brody watching her with those sharp eyes that missed nothing, including the fact that she’d changed her hair color again, dark brown now, or that she’d bought a new skirt.
An even shorter one.
It looked good on her legs. Okay, it looked great on her legs and she knew it, and for reasons not quite clear to her, or maybe for reasons perfectly clear, she’d wanted him to notice, and she wanted him to suffer.
He’d just come in from Cabo, where he must have spent some time outdoors either waiting on his client or working on the plane, because he had a tan going.
It worked for him.
Damn gorgeous grumpy man. Too gorgeous. Standing this close to him was making her . . . itchy. Making her want to shove him against the wall and press her body to his and kiss that grumpiness right out of him.
She could do it too.
But she wouldn’t, of course she wouldn’t. He didn’t deserve her damn kiss. And she needed space. But in order to move out from behind the counter, she had to practically brush against him. She held her breath so she couldn’t smell him—self-defense, because he always, always, smelled amazing—and then without a word headed toward the tarmac. She needed to tell Shayne about the phone call she’d just received. She needed to do her job, not be daydreaming about things that could never be—
“What’s the matter?”
Damn it. “Stop following me.”
“Then stop and talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing.” He nodded, though he clearly didn’t believe her. “I saw you the other night. On your date.”
So he had seen her. Fine. She’d seen him too.
“Did it work out for you?”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, did . . . did the rest of your night go well?”
“Are you asking if I slept with him, Brody?”
“That would be none of my business.”
“That’s right. It wouldn’t.” Once again she looked at Shayne, who was still on the tarmac.
Brody followed her line of vision.
“If you want him for yourself, all you have to do is say so.”
Whipping her head toward his, she stared at him. “What?”
“You find him attractive.”
“You mean because he has a penis?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then you’d better say something.”
“You had an expression on your face—”
“Annoyance?”
“No. Frustration. Worry.” His jaw tightened. “And something else.”
“Spit it out.”
“Arousal.”
She stared at him in shock. That was for you, you idiot.
But Brody wasn’t done pissing her off. “He’s single right now, and—”
With a low growl in her throat, she reached up, grabbed his shirt, and shoved him back against the wall, then did as she’d been fantasizing about, pressed her body along the length of his and kissed him, hard.
There was a beat of utter stillness from him and then his hands came up to her face.
The almost reluctant touch fueled her frustration, her anger, her sheer lust. She hadn’t planned on going anywhere with this but his mouth was warm and firm, and somehow also soft, and she licked his bottom lip until with a low, rough sound, he opened and thrust his tongue to hers.
And just like that, she went from seducer to se-ducee.
Holy shit, the man could kiss. His fingers slid into her hair, his thumbs sweeping her cheekbones in a soft caress that was in complete opposition to the feel of his long, hard body pressed so intimately to hers.
Then he changed the angle of the kiss, at once deepening it and gentling the connection so that she went from fury to straight-up desperate for him so fast her head spun.
And then they ran out of air. Somehow she found the strength to lift her head. To let go of his shirt. Stumbling back a step, she blinked the haze of desire from her vision and forced a glare. “Does that feel like I want Shayne, you arrogant, insufferable ass?”
He blinked once, slow as an owl. “Arrogant?”
“That’s right. Your picture is in the dictionary next to the word.”
He blinked again. “Insufferable?”
“Don’t forget ass.”
Still looking a bit stunned, he just stared at her. “You . . . you want me.”
“There is no way you are that slow to have just figured that out.” And then, knees knocking, she walked away. Don’t look back, don’t look back . . .
She looked back.
He was still leaning back against the wall as if he needed the support, looking both staggered and boggled.
And so damn cute she felt herself come to a stop. Damn it. “Brody.”
He lifted his head, his eyes so hot she couldn’t suck air into her lungs. “I’m going to tell Shayne about a phone call. He . . . he might need you.”
Straightening, he went from passionate to concerned in a single heartbeat. “What is it?”
“The woman from the other night.”
“The crazy one?”
“Shayne likes her.”
“Shayne likes all women.”
“This one’s different.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the day-old growth there making a rasping sound that went straight to her good parts. “She’s on her way to the ER. There was some sort of accident at her work.”
“Shit.” Apparently already completely over the kiss they’d just shared, he sighed and moved ahead of her to the tarmac door. There, he hesitated, glancing back. “We’ll deal with what just happened later.”
Or never. But Maddie nodded, and when he was on the tarmac, she let out a low breath and reminded herself that the kiss had been her idea, which meant she had no one to blame for messing up the best thing that had ever happened to her.
Shayne let Brody drive him to the hospital because it was easier than arguing. “Seriously. I could have driven myself.”
“Are you kidding? Our insurance company is going to dump you if you get another speeding ticket.”
“I don’t have that many.”
Brody sent him a baleful look.
“Okay, so I have a few speeding tickets.” Shayne didn’t care. He eyed the road, jaw tight, hardly able to breathe. Maddie had taken the call, so he hadn’t heard Dani’s voice, but Maddie had admitted she hadn’t sounded so good. Dani had said only that she was at the ER, and that if it wasn’t too much trouble, she needed Shayne to come and verify her sanity, preferably before she was questioned by the police.
The police?
Shayne had called Dani’s cell, which had gone right to voice mail, then tried the hospital, but they wouldn’t release any information except directly to a family member. Patrick had been next on his list, but he’d had to leave a message.
When Brody got caught in afternoon traffic, Shayne staved off a heart attack by calling the zoo. Their main switchboard was closed, and he couldn’t get past it. “Take the 5,” he directed Brody.
“It’s bumper-to-bumper. I’m going over the pass. What happened, anyway? I thought you two had your one-night already.”
“It turned into two nights.”
“How? I thought it was just sex.”
It had been. Only then he’d gone back for seconds.
And wanted thirds. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure? Because you’re looking like this is
a lot more than sex, Shayne.”
“Brody?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.” He tried Dani’s cell again, but it was still off. He slapped his phone shut. “Goddamnit.”
“No answers?”
“Maybe if I call the hospital back and tell them I’m her husband—”
Brody choked and nearly drove them off the road.
“Jesus, Brody.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just been rendered stupid by the H-word that so easily flew from your lips.”
“Just drive.”
“Noah’s right,” he muttered, watching the road. “You are far gone.”
“Oh yeah? And how does he know?”
“He said he recognized the signs.”
“What signs?”
“The insanity, for one.”
Shayne glanced at the speedometer. “You’re driving like an old lady. Can you get it out of first fucking gear?”
“Old lady?”
“Seriously. Try second gear. Just for the hell of it, try third.”
“What’s going on, Shayne?”
“What’s going on? Dani’s in the hospital, and no one will tell me why. That’s what’s going on!”
When they finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, Shayne jumped out.
“Shayne, wait.”
“What?”
“Just sex. Remember that.”
Shayne rolled his eyes and ran through the double doors, going directly to the front desk.
A woman in scrubs stood there looking more than slightly harassed. She had a receiver to one ear, a radio to the other, and was eyeing a stack of charts in front of her, where the phone was lit up like a Christmas tree. She was barking orders at someone behind her; 211 was to get a sponge bath and 243 needed blood work. Someone in 316 needed a death certificate signed.
Which nearly gave Shayne a coronary.
“Dani Peterson?” he said. “I need—”
“Hang on.” She tried to switch the top chart to the bottom of her stack and the entire pile tumbled out of her hands to her already cluster-fucked desk. “Oh, perfect.”
“Dani Peterson?” he asked again.
“Hold on a second, I’m swamped.”
“Dani Peterson.”
When she glanced at him, he lowered his voice. “It’s an emergency.”
“You’re in a hospital. Everything is an emergency.” But whether it was the look on his face or her own humanity kicking in, she sighed in acceptance. “Okay. So you’re Danny Peterson?”
“No.” He willed himself to breathe, and also to access his patience, which he usually had in abundance, but it’d flown south for the winter. “Dani Peterson’s here. I got a call about an accident, and I need to see her. Where is she?”
The nurse leaned over the keyboard and typed something. “Looks like the fourth cubicle on the left—hey,” she called as he began running—“you can’t go in there unless you’re family!”
Shayne whipped open the curtain for the fourth cubicle on the left, but it was empty.
Except for the blood drops on the pillow.
His heart stopped. Just plain stopped.
“Ouch. Ouch.”
At the sound of Dani’s voice, Shayne’s knees nearly gave out, but he moved around the bed.
She was on her knees on the floor, holding her head.
“Jesus.” He dropped to his knees too, and reached for her.
“No,” she whispered, very carefully not moving a single inch. “Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.”
“Dani—”
“Oh, God. And don’t talk. Please . . .” With the care of the very inebriated, or from someone in bone-deep pain, she let out a careful breath. “Is my head still on? Because I think it’s falling off.”
“Where the hell is the doctor?”
“They’re inundated right now. Some big traffic accident.” She pulled a wad of towels away from her head, which came away red. “Oh, boy.”
Jesus. As gently as he could, he pushed the compress back to her head and brushed her hair from her face. Pain made her eyes glassy, and he leaned in and touched his lips to her temple. “What happened?”
“Complicated.”
Someone had hurt her, that was clear. The sheer amount of violence that was coursing through him shocked him. And told him something he already knew. Not just sex.
He’d deal with that later.
“I have to . . . get into this gown.” She swallowed hard. “But if I move, I’m going to throw up.”
“I’ll help you.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you, but I was scared, and—”
“Shh.” He reached for her, scooped her up.
She managed a sound that might have been a pain-tinged laugh, but let him set her on the bed. He grabbed the hospital gown and unfolded it.
“You’ve taken my clothes off twice now. Is three times going to be the charm, I wonder?”
“Charm?”
“The last time.”
“Why?”
A sad smile twisted her lips.
“Dani? Why would it be the last?”
She’d closed her eyes and looked far too pale. “I figure you’re either beginning to panic or at least feeling the need to hightail it away from me.”
“Dani.” He pulled off her shoes. She was shaking. Shock? God.