Flashback (6 page)

He let out a slow nod, his gaze dropping from her face to her body, studying the towel covering her from just beneath her armpits to mid-thigh. She was gratified to see an absolute lack of humor now.

Slowly he stood up, and something surged within her. Lust, which she beat back. Triumph, which she let take over.
Want me…
Yeah, that worked for her, him wanting her. Because when he admitted that out loud, she was going to lift her chin, flat-out reject him and maybe feel just the tiniest bit better.

She hoped. God, she hoped. Because
something
had to ease this knot in her chest.
Knot, hell.
It was a ball, a huge ball, and it was suffocating her. If she gave too much thought to it, it swelled even bigger and threatened to overcome her.

Then he walked toward her, and she shivered in anticipation because here it came, the him wanting her portion of the evening.

But he simply held out her cell phone. “It went off again when you were in the shower. Local cell number.”

“Oh.” She flipped it open and looked at it, having no idea who would be calling her locally. Blake had been her last tie to Santa Rey. In any case, whoever it was hadn't left a message so she set the phone down.

Aidan strode right past her, going to his dresser.

Okay, she could work with this. Maybe he was going for a condom. Which of course he wasn't going to need—

He held up a shirt. “You still like to sleep in just a T-shirt?”

She stared at the shirt in his hand, at the hand that had once been able to make her purr. She lifted her head, met his gaze, and smiled.

He gave her a little smile in return, and it was all the more sexy because it was a little baffled, a little bowled over, as if he was surprised, pleasantly so, to find her finally smiling at him.

But she wanted more than that. Needed more than that, and she thought maybe she knew what to do.

If she dared…

But she'd always been bold, especially in front of a camera. And if she closed her eyes, she could be bold here as well.

Doing just that, she then reached up, pulling out the end of the towel from between her breasts, and let the thing drop.

It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Naked as a jay bird, she opened her eyes.

Aidan, unflappable, cool, calm as the eye-of-a-storm Aidan, had gone still as stone, his only movement his Adam's apple when he swallowed hard.

She held out a hand for the proffered T-shirt.

He didn't let go of it, seemingly frozen into place, as he looked her over from head to toes and back again.

She'd never thought of herself as particularly vengeful, and especially didn't wish him harm after he'd saved her life, but he'd once been able to walk away from her without a backward glance, and that had not only broken her heart, but destroyed her confidence.

The look on his face took a good part of that remembered pain away. “Thank you,” she said, tugging on the T-shirt, practically having to pry it out of his fingers.

He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. The bulge behind the button fly of his jeans said it all, and with a little shimmying movement, she pulled the shirt over her head, letting it cover her body, before turning and walking out of the room, a real smile on her face for the first time since she'd heard about Blake's death.

T
HE MOMENT HE WAS ALONE
in his bedroom, Aidan let out a long, slow breath. He needed to go after Kenzie to tell her she could have his bed to sleep in, but after the past sixty seconds, he needed a moment.

Or ten.

Or maybe a cold shower.

Bending for the towel she'd dropped, he winced. Still hard as a rock, but who wouldn't be? She had the body that most red-blooded males fantasized about—all soft, warm curves, and then there'd been her tan lines, outlining what looked like a string bikini.

God bless tan lines.

Yeah, he was going to need another moment. He calculated a few multiplication problems in his head, and then went after her. She stood in his living room with her back to him, facing the large picture window that looked out on a darkening sky. She wore the T-shirt he'd lent her, which thanks to the show she'd given him a moment ago, he now knew she had nothing on beneath it. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, her hands at her sides.

And he had no idea what she was thinking.

“I wanted to spread Blake's ashes into the ocean,” she said softly to the window. “Off the bluffs. He would have liked that.”

He let out a low breath, knowing what was coming next, hating what was coming next.

“Only there are no ashes.”

The pain reverberated in her voice, and somehow bounced off his own chest, rolling over his heart.
Dammit.
He headed toward her.

“All I can do is put a marker next to our parents' graves.” Her voice wobbled at this, but she didn't lose it, just stared out at the night. “He's innocent, Aidan.”

The Kenzie he'd known had always believed the best of everyone, to a fault. Seemed that hadn't changed, only this time it was going to bite her on the ass.

“And I would have thought you'd think so, too,” she said with more than a little accusation in her voice. She sighed, the sound soft and heart-breaking as it shuddered out of her.

“Look,” he said. “Why don't you go to bed and get some sleep. You'll feel better if you do.”

“I doubt that.” But she finally turned from the window. The last of the day's light slanted in through the glass behind her, casting her in its soft glow, rendering the T-shirt just sheer enough to stop his heart.

Not sure how much more of her glorious body he could take without dropping to his knees and begging for mercy, he stayed right where he was instead of getting any closer to her.

Closer would be a mistake, especially with those hugely expressive eyes on his, and that look of grief all over her face.

“Sleep won't change anything that I'm feeling,” she whispered. “He'll still be innocent.”

“Kenzie, they found a scrapbook of all the fires in Blake's house. He was keeping track of them.”

“That doesn't mean he's guilty.”

“What
does
it mean?”

“Something else.” She hugged herself, looking miserable and alone, and hurting. “I wish we were friends,” she said very quietly. “I wish that you hadn't hurt me, and that I didn't have the urge to hurt you back.”

Feeling bad, feeling a whole host of things he shouldn't be feeling at all, he took her hand. “I'm sorry I hurt you back then. I'm sorry I let you go. But I was young and stupid, Kenz. I was a complete ass.”

She lifted a shoulder, tacitly agreeing with him.

“I'd like to think that if we were seeing each other now,” he said softly, “and one of us wanted out, that we'd do better. That we'd make the friendship work.”

Another lift of her shoulder, with slightly less temper in it this time.

Okay, that was something, a step at least. Pulling her toward him, he turned to lead her back to his bed, where he was going to tuck her in and then walk away.

Be the good guy.

Only she tugged him back, and suddenly he was holding onto her and she was pressing her face into his throat and breathing in deep, and…and
hell
. He was in trouble, sinking fast. “I showered at the station,” he murmured into her hair. “But I need another. I still smell like smoke, Kenz, and—”

“Right.” Pulling free, she turned away. “Sorry.”

And now she thought he didn't want to hold her, when that was
all
he wanted. “Kenzie—”

“No, you're right. Absolutely right. Let's not go there.” She smiled, and anyone who'd ever seen her smile for real would have recognized it as a first-class fake, but he didn't dare say a word about it because he had the feeling she was barely hanging on.

As was he.

She turned away. “You're right. Sleep might be best. But I'll take the couch—”

“No, don't be ridiculous. I—”

“Make no mistake, Aidan. I still want to hurt you. It's immature and extremely juvenile of me, but it's fact. So, no. I'm not sleeping in your bed.” She walked back to the couch.

“Kenzie—”

“Please,” she said, sinking down to the cushions and closing her eyes. “Could I have a blanket?”

“Of course.” He went and got several, came back and spread them over her.

She didn't speak, or for that matter, move.

“Call me if you need anything,” he finally said.

She gave no response to that, either, and he nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. “Okay then…night.” He paused, but she still didn't say anything to release him from the strange torment he felt. In the end, he did as she seemed to want, and left her alone.

 

A
FEW MINUTES LATER
, Kenzie heard the shower go on, and in spite of herself, pictured Aidan stripping off his clothes and climbing in.

Soaping himself up…

Standing there beneath the steamy hot water all naked.

And unintentionally sexy.

Behind her, from somewhere else in the house, a phone rang. A machine clicked on and she heard Aidan's voice saying, “You know what to do at the beep.”

Then came a “Hey, you” in a low, Marilyn Monroe–like purr. “It's Lori. You didn't call me back. I've been lonely for you, baby. Come over sometime soon, okay? I'll be waiting…”

Kenzie listened to the click as the machine went off and silence filled the house.

Seemed Aidan was still the guy who left women feeling lonely for him. She should return the favor. She should go…somewhere.

But as she listened to the shower running, she let out a long breath and admitted to herself—as silly as it seemed—there was something undeniably consoling about being here with him. She'd told him she trusted him a little, and that was as truthful as it was unsettling. Yes, she had nowhere else to go, but it was far more than that. At the moment, he was the only familiar, comforting presence in her life. At the moment, she wanted to be there, she really did, even knowing that the longer they spent together, the more they would grow closer, whether she liked it or not.

Only, she was afraid she would like it. A lot more than was wise.

 

A
IDAN SURFACED
from a deep, deep sleep, aware that something had woken him, but not sure what. He opened his eyes and saw his dark bedroom lit up in black and white by the faint glow of the moon slanting in through his horizontal blinds.

There, by his bed, stood an angel.

An angel in his T-shirt, in the same white swaths of moonlight as his room.

She was hurting, sad, scared…and why the hell hadn't he given her a suit of armor instead of just a T-shirt? Had he been looking for punishment? Because there it was, in flesh and blood and glorious curves and wild hair, and a face so hauntingly beautiful she took his breath. He was in trouble, deep trouble, because although he'd managed to resist opening his heart to her that first time, he wasn't quite sure he would be able to manage it this time.

Without a single word, she lifted his covers and scooted into the bed.

With him.

He was exhausted, beyond exhausted, and was afraid he didn't have the self-control to deal with this.
“Jesus,”
he gasped as she pressed her icy feet to his.

“Sorry.”

But she didn't pull them back. Nope, she tucked them beneath his, sucking the warmth out of him.

“Don't look at me like that,” she whispered.

He had no idea what she was talking about. There was no way she could clearly see his expression, she couldn't see any more than he could in the strips of moonlight. He could see her eyes, not her nose. He could see her mouth, not her chin…

“I'm not sleepwalking, or pain-pill walking.” She pressed a little closer, so that her legs entangled in his.

Now would probably be as good a time as any to remind her that he slept naked, but as he opened his mouth, she spoke first.

“And I'm not here for another broken heart like I got the last time.” She poked a finger into his chest. “In fact, if anyone's going to have a broken heart this time, it's going to be you. So you can just wipe that look of pity off your face.”

“Pity is the last thing I've got going on,” he assured her. He lay there achingly close, freezing his ass off thanks to her feet. “So you're going to break my heart?”

“Going to do my damnedest.”

“I never meant to break yours.”

“At least let me think I'm getting my revenge, okay?”

Her toes were killing him. So were her legs, the ones all caught up in his. And somehow he had a thigh between hers…

She propped her head up with her good hand, staring at him in the oddly lit room. Now he could see her forehead and her nose, but not her eyes or her mouth.

“It really is going to be you nursing the heart this time,” she whispered.

That could very well be. But honestly, he wasn't sure his bruised heart functioned enough to break. Hell, it was probably dried up from misuse. And yet…and yet lying there with her in his arms seemed to jump-start the organ. It ached, and not just because of their past, it ached for the here and now, for the woman she'd become.

“You,” she repeated softly, even a little smugly, and for some reason, some sick reason, it was a turn-on.

And because he was weak and maybe just a little bit stupid, he put his hand on her hip and leaned in to see her better, which he couldn't. She was still in slatted black and white. “I meant what I said, Kenz. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

“Good. I
want
you sorry. Very, very sorry.”

Yes, but did she want him aroused? Because he was. Her T-shirt had risen up enough to remind him she wasn't wearing panties.

Yeah, colossally stupid.

By now it had to be crystal clear to her that he was butt-ass naked. In the name of fair warning, he pulled her in a little closer.

“What are you doing?”

What was he doing? No idea. Bending his head, he rubbed his jaw to hers, bumped the tip of his nose to her earlobe.

With a shiver, she clutched at him and arched her neck, giving him better access.

Which he took.

“I can't remember what I was saying,” she murmured.

He let out a breath in her ear and she shivered again, which he liked. He liked that a lot. “You were telling me how you're going to break my heart.”

“That's right.” Her fingers dug into the small of his back as she moved, the black and white shadows shifting over her. “I am. Aidan?”

“Yeah?”

“You're naked.”

He'd been wondering when that would come up. Seeing as he was already quite “up”…

She gulped, and then did something he didn't expect. She rolled to her back and pulled him on top of her, allowing him to settle between her thighs, which were not cold like her feet, but warm and cushy and very, very welcoming.

“You should know,” she whispered in his ear, making sure her lips brushed his flesh, causing a series of shivers of his own. “I plan to make you beg for mercy this time.”

God.
“I'm close to begging right now,” he admitted.

“Really?”

She sounded breathless as hell, which was another big turn-on. So many…“Really.”

He was hard. She was soft, so soft, and pressing all that softness up against him. “If you're not sleepwalking, or having a bad dream,” he wondered, “why are you in here?”

“No hotels, remember?”

“Why are you in bed with me?” he clarified.

Her hands glided up and down his back, going lower on each pass. “My feet were cold.”

He pressed his feet to hers, and then his mouth to her throat. “Is that all?”