by Kacey Mark
Shauna glanced up. The light had already been dimmed here. Samuel had told her a dark light post would be her signal. He never said it would be darkened for her. She closed her eyes. Of all the stupid—
The door swung open, and Samuel yanked Shauna inside.
The agent moved to follow. He opened his mouth. The scowl marring his forehead indicated a disgruntled reply, but before any words escaped, Samuel slammed the door.
The crash of metal echoed though the storeroom. He wrapped the chain around the door’s inside handle. The rattle-clang, rattle-clang beat through the room with each pass around the bar.
Samuel muttered between passes. “Do you have any idea…how hard it is…to get people in here? You’ve gotten caught not once, but twice. What the hell! And FBI…?” He shot her a glance as he retrieved a padlock from the end of the chain. “He rarely accepts anyone anymore, you know that?—by the way, you throw like a girl, and I told you to wear something dark. That’s not dark.”
It’s dark pink. She wanted to argue, but doing so would only fuel his anger.
Shauna knew her choice of dress was a risk. Adrian Sands liked his customers low profile. But Shauna knew something about Adrian her contact didn’t. This had been Adrian’s favorite color. Maybe not his favorite color in the whole world, but he had specifically picked this color for her.
Chapter Two
Her memory spun back to Adrian Sands. To the man he used to be. She’d known him throughout her small-town childhood as the neighborhood hottie. But with a two-year age gap, they were incompatible back then.
Pifft…with the number of wars they fought, the term “incompatible” had been an understatement. It wasn’t until college that they formed any shred of an awkward truce.
Even at the age of twenty-three, he wasn’t a big talker. His broad posture and brilliant smile might have said “large and impressive,” and who knew, maybe he was—even between the sheets. But that illusion never confirmed or denied itself, even to the most provocative of community college cheerleaders. The power of raging hormones was no match for Adrian’s blockade of good manners. No wonder he’d made the best house dad in Sigma Phi Epsilon history.
Shauna has been busy pledging to her own sorority the night of the SigEp hosted party. Even in a surging crowd with music thumping loud enough to blur her vision, the laser sights of Alpha Chi Omega were still trained on her from every corner.
“You. On the stairs!”
Shauna turned to the blonde-haired boy near the kitchen. His lips stretched to a cheesy grin and pointed to the paper cup he held high above the masses. “Drink?”
“How about a Coke?”
His pale brows cinched in disbelief. “What?”
Shauna cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “A Coke!” as the music lulled. Her words bullhorned through the frat house, and several heads turned in her direction. Laughter bubbled through the crowd as the music picked up again.
“I think she wants a Coke,” offered a spaghetti-strapped redhead who appeared to be holding her own at the beer pong table. The attention wandered away, until Shauna caught the weight of one pair of eyes that had locked and held. The warmth that had receded from her cheeks returned full force.
Lounging in a battered chair with one ankle propped on his knee, Adrian Sands regarded her with an arch of his raven brow. Not a seductive, fancy-meeting-you brow lift. A what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here, don’t-you-think-you’re-a-little-young brow lift.
Shauna should know. When Adrian played her neighborhood big brother, she’d seen it hundreds of times. His hottie-authoritative combo made the perfect formula for years of closet fantasies and self-pleasuring role-play.
One by one, those thoughts marched through Shauna’s brain like an erotic circus on parade.
Pity. She’d grown old enough to sneak a peek inside his big tent, but he still wanted to play safety net.
Was it the Coke she’d ordered that gave him license to treat her like a child? How could that one look of disapproval turn her stomach into such a shaken snow globe of excitement? With every chair and dark corner occupied, Shauna slunk down on the stairs. Maybe she should have ordered something stronger.
“Here you go, pretty girl.” A freckled hand lifted the drink through the stair railing.
Her reflection danced back at her in the darkened liquid. Did she look that out of place?
“Well, don’t just sit there. Drink up.” His limp tangle of blonde hair flapped up and down as string-cheese-boy shifted and trotted past other partygoers on his way up the stairs.
Adrian’s gaze shifted to the boy, and his eyes seemed to narrow.
Maybe Shauna hadn’t done anything after all; maybe Adrian was in one of those hate-everybody moods. That seemed more fitting. She’d never managed to score his attention before. Why start now?
The flat, lukewarm drink left a chalky film on Shana’s tongue. Her bottom lip pulled into a frown. Her next, tentative sip sloshed over her lips as string boy bumped her shoulder.
“That’ll be five dollars.” He sighed as he lowered himself next to her. “Or you could just tell me your name.”
Shauna took another sip and looked away. “Is this diet?” She offered the cup back. “For five bucks, I’d prefer the drink I ordered.”
He nudged the cup back. “Come on, don’t make me feel bad. It’s all we had left.”
She looked to Adrian again. A wide-shouldered man had stepped in front of him, blocking Shauna’s view.
Something had changed in him. She craned her neck for a better glimpse, but she couldn’t see his face. Adrian’s hands had clamped on the arms of his chair, and he leaned forward, his posture tensed as if ready to strike. If she had to guess, the wide-shouldered guy had just given him some very bad news. Adrian looked ready to pummel him.
Of all the crappy timing. Shauna rose to her feet and stared at the shoulder blockade. Just a little to the left and she’d get the full view again—a kibble toss of excitement to the yapping poodle that was her curiosity. What sort of news could possibly animate the immovable Adrian?
“You okay?”
Shauna’s attention spun back to the blond boy who’d planted himself beside her. “What?”
“I said, are you pledging?”
“Yeah.” She waved the questioner away.
“Well then, you’d better catch up,” string-cheese-boy persisted, pushing the cup back into her hand.
From her vantage point over the rim of the cup, Shauna caught sight of Adrian again as he jumped to his feet. A piercing look of determination darkened his features, and his chin jerked in her direction. Was that really meant for her?
As if on command, the shoulder barricade turned, and the man started for the stairs. Adrian fell in step behind him, picking up speed. A growl of hurricane force rage seemed to pull from every corner of the room, as Adrian heaved a mighty breath.
Had she heard that right? Shauna’s heart leaped to attention and pumped out an urgent distress signal at first sight of the menacing clench of his jaw.
But one step closer and the snow globe in her stomach seemed to shatter. Act cool. Act cool. The excitement overpowered everything and fought her lips into a hopeless, groupie smile.
She lowered the cup just as the liquid jumped into her face. It splashed down her shirt, rendering her white-silk, butterfly-sleeved top completely ruined. She gasped at the wide-shouldered man who lay face down a few steps away. Adrian had apparently shoved him forward, dominoing the mass of stoop monkeys right into her.
He never did offer her an explanation that night, just a box one hour later that contained a new shirt as colorful as she was and an invitation to Casa de Adrian for the night.
Which she refused.
Well, except for the shirt. That berry-pink, sewn-in-heaven, wonder of a blouse came from Saks Fifth Avenue. It had been the most expensive item she’d ever owned.
Perhaps he’d been trying to protect her from the date-rape drug that laced her drink tha
t night or the destruction of her self-respect a few hours later. But it’s easy to pin nobilities on a girl’s first crush.
Shauna flung the memory away. He had still offered his room that night. He still wanted something from her, just like the rest of them. He wasn’t as innocent as he’d led her to believe.
Any opportunity to appeal to that marred nobility from years ago could save her future. If she could stand out and sweet talk him, it might earn her the privilege of being treated for her unwanted singe-skills.
“You know, you’re not very bright. Pretty, but not bright,” Samuel assessed.
She grinned. Some of that might come naturally, but for Adrian, she’d dress it up a little. Act dumb and flaunt the package. If Adrian had some sort of weakness for her, she’d find it. She had to.
Her thoughts brick-walled as Samuel shoved a paper bag over her head. “Hey!” She moved to tear the bag free.
Samuel caught her hands.
She twisted.
Samuel’s voice elevated over the crinkling sound of the attack paper bag. “Stop…Stop! It’s the rules. He doesn’t see you. You don’t see him. It’s how these things stay secret. Deal with it or leave.”
Shauna jerked her shoulders away. “Okay, fine.”
Shit.
Samuel hooked her wrist and tugged her forward. “Let’s just get this over with.”
She kept her head down and dodged the boxes, shelves, and advertising signs that littered the narrow view at her feet.
“You’re lucky he’s still here. He’s usually gone by now. Moved to the next drop zone.”
Shauna swallowed. Right. Him. The man she’d come to see. No longer the frat house overseer or the model neighbor boy but the elusive miracle worker, Adrian Sands. Shauna caught word of him not long after she dropped out of college for cosmetology.
The tiniest of patients at Primary Children’s Burn Unit had been making recoveries beyond medical explanation. The staff was sworn to secrecy, but it’s apparently inhuman for people to actually keep a secret. Word got out and the entire nation turned their microscope on Utah and Adrian, the local researcher, who had flipped the medical community upside-down.
Of course, the pimple-ridden debutants and wrinkle-fearing celebrities were the first to swarm. But the moment Adrian Sands’ name came out, he disappeared.
If he could reverse the effects of charred skin and cooked muscle, maybe he could help with her own high-temperature affliction. Before time ran out.
Her mind whirred to a different memory from the SigEp party. Those few hours later seemed a lifetime away from flat drinks and staircase brawls. Where pained screams and ambulance sirens drowned out the thumping music and the smell of burnt bodies would forever brand her soul.
Shauna shook the memory from her head. She couldn’t think about that. She had been a survivor, not a victim, and she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. With a little luck from Adrian, it would never happen again. She could fall apart later, but for now—focus.
Classic rock swarmed Shauna’s paper bag as she entered some sort of concrete clearing and the toasted smell of spice and frankincense invaded her nose. A clink of glasses came from somewhere on her right, followed by a muttered curse and shifting steps. Her stomach twisted. Only one person in the room, as far as she could tell, and Shauna had a pretty good idea of whom.
“What is it, Sam?” His mellow baritone held that same gruff edge. Shauna’s heart recognized it and chimed off an erratic response.
Oh, come on. She tried to quell the giddy tension in her chest. He might be a medical icon, and sexy as hell, but the guy was still a guy. A small-town guy—regardless of where he’d been the last ten years. He took off his pants the same as everyone else, one leg at a time.
A metal click would sound as he loosened his belt, followed by a snap of leather that cut through the room as he pulled it free. Then the quick and deliberate grate of his zipper. The image of tanned, muscle-corded thighs, and a prominent male appendage appeared as he shoved his jeans down, a motion that was all authority and purpose. Each deliberate step forward would cause his erect cock to nod an upward beat. The tempo, a lurid promise of the power it could deliver. One full, heavy thrust at a time.
The heat turned up inside her paper bag.
This time it had nothing to do with her unwanted defensive mechanism.
Shauna squeezed her eyes shut. Puts on his pants. That’s how the saying went.
How fair was this? The mere sound of his voice sent her mind on a hasty jailbreak. It fled east of Beef Cake Street and promptly snapped its chain. Gone.
She could never evoke that kind of response from Adrian.
Not that it would hurt to try. If it took pulling out every dirty trick in her girly arsenal, she’d do it. With her fiancé, Richard, pushing the celibacy issue on an almost a daily basis, and her wedding night looming in just three months’ time, she had to persuade him in any way possible to cure her problem.
She cleared her throat, the sound more timid than she wanted. She tried again, louder this time, guessing she still hadn’t claimed his full attention.
Adrian always functioned with a singular focus. To divert him would be next to impossible. Even if a naked cancan dancer high-kicked through the room, he wouldn’t look up. Not to mention, Shauna wasn’t a dancer.
And she had a bag on her head.
“Adrian—” she started.
“You don’t talk.” Samuel whispered. His voice turned in Adrian’s direction. “Hey, big guy.”
“Hey yourself…and who’s that?” Adrian asked his voice rather flat and unaffected.
“Sort of a special request.” Samuel strained his words in a sly undertone. She could just imagine his arms splayed out like a swarthy magician. Or a Price is Right model.
The price was a little high to be truthful.
The noncommittal grunt that came from Adrian seemed less than fascinated with Samuel’s mystical introduction.
“And I know how you enjoy a challenge,” Samuel prodded.
Adrian’s response came sporadically as the shift of boxes and shuffling feet continued. “I think you have me confused…with you.”
Shauna’s frustration percolated under the bag. He was shutting her down. She pushed out a huff of annoyance. “Can I take this off now?”
“No,” the boys answered in unison.
Shauna paused. How about that. A reaction. Not exactly the one she’d hoped for, but a good start. “This isn’t fair. How can you fully consider my case without putting a face to it?”
“You want a face?” Samuel asked.
Shauna heard a pop. “What—”
“Hold still.” Samuel snared her chin and held her there amid the panicked crinkle of brown paper.
She shoved at his hand and thrust her head back. “Stop it.” The sound came out more annoyed than panicked. Like some unfortunate pet that fought the sweater and lost. She couldn’t escape the assaulting smell of ink, in the form of two scribble marks for her eyes and the curvy line of what must have been her mouth.
“Here ya go…there,” Samuel sounded a little too satisfied for his own good. He stepped back.
Adrian’s voice held only passive dismissal. “I don’t think she’s smiling under there.”
“Trust me, this is better… On second thought, her frown is kinda sexy.” Samuel seemed to contemplate. “Maybe if I—”
Shauna put up her hands when Samuel neared again. “You touch me with that marker, and I’ll scream.”
Shauna could hear the grin in his voice. “Fine…be ornery then. But just so you know, you’re smiling on the outside.”
The paper bag crinkled as Shauna planted her fist on her hip. “Okay, that’s it. Are you going to hear my case or not?”
“No.”
“No?” Her breath caught in a futile attempt for an explanation, a point to argue, something! He had to treat her. He just had to.
“Believe it or not, princess, you’re going to hear that word a lot in your
young life. Get used to it,” Adrian said.
Princess? Shauna’s anger sparked. “Just who the hell do you think I am?”
Adrian paused between the scrape of boxes. His voice returned even more distracted than before. “Ugh…Strawberry shortcake?”
Shauna’s shoulders dropped in their sockets. Well, at least he noticed the outfit.
“But you don’t even know what you’re treating her for yet,” Samuel complained.
The bag crinkled as Shauna turned in Samuel’s direction. She paused. Since when had he been on her side?
“I’m busy enough as it is. If you want this serum finished by tomorrow…” Adrian countered.
“You finished it three hours ago. Now you’re just farting around.”
The reassuring weight of Samuel’s hands rested on her shoulders.
“Dude, this one’s special.”
“Aren’t they all special?” Adrian drawled. “Really, you might want to focus on getting rid of your old flames before you build new ones.”
“What can I say? Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none—” Samuel seemed to stop short. “Okay. Sorry.” He leaned toward Shauna and funneled quick words near her paper barrier. “Just a note, he doesn’t like Shakespeare.”
“I get lonely,” Samuel tried again. “The serum will take care of flame number one. I’m just lining up my rebound. No harm in that.”
“I’m not your rebound,” Shauna muttered. “You wanna see flames? I’ll show you freaking flames.” Despite Samuel’s…revolting yet honorable efforts, the value of Shauna’s situation dripped away, one millisecond at a time. Any moment Adrian would boot her out.
She lifted her voice. “No one else can help me, and I am not leaving. Take one look at me, Adrian Sands, and tell me you’re not treating me. Say it to my face.”