That Summer Night (Callaways #6) (7 page)

"We'll be in touch."

"Thanks." She hung up the phone and looked at Reid. "Was that okay?"

"Perfect," he said with a reassuring smile. "That should get you off the suspect list."

She frowned at his use of the word
you
. "Damn. I just realized I didn't mention that I was with you."

"It's fine."

"But you're Robert's brother. It would make it seem less likely that you and I would have tried to steal something from his office."

"We'll save that for another day—if we need it. Right now I want to see if I can figure out why this notebook is important."

"Okay." She sat down on the couch next to him.

As Reid looked through Robert's drawings, she studied his profile, and her lips began to tingle in memory of their kiss. She could still feel the rough burn of his scruffy beard against her cheeks, the demanding force of his mouth, the solid feel of his chest against her breasts. She'd never had such an intense reaction to a man. She'd felt out of control, wild, and while she could chalk it all up to her panic in the moment, that didn't explain the butterflies dancing through her stomach now, or why she felt like she was both a little too close to him and not close enough at all.

She got up and moved around the table, taking a seat in the uncomfortable armchair her roommate had picked up at a garage sale. She liked the stiff, unyielding seat and back; it grounded her. Made her feel like her feet were settling back on the ground and that she wasn't caught up in a billowy cloud of emotions.

She'd always been good at putting distance between herself and temptation. When she was a kid and she needed to study, she'd close her bedroom door, put on her headphones and shut out the world, focus on what she needed to do, which was what she needed to do now.

But she found her gaze drifting back to Reid. She wondered what he'd thought about their kiss. Probably nothing. In fact, he'd no doubt forgotten all about it. He certainly seemed to be engrossed in Robert's comic book illustrations.

That was fine. Better to have his attention directed toward his brother than her.

She tapped her fingers nervously on her legs, wondering how long he planned on staying. Again, she was torn between wanting him to go and not wanting to be alone.

What a basket case she was. She normally liked being on her own, independent, doing her thing, living her life. But ever since the guns had gone off in Colombia, she'd become fearful of everything.

Robert's call hadn't helped. Nor had almost getting hit by a car or finding Robert's office in disarray. Were the events connected? Or was she once again leaping to illogical conclusions?

"You need to relax, Shayla." Reid's voice cut through the tense silence that had fallen between them.

"I'm trying."

He lifted his gaze to hers, a smile playing around the curve of his mouth. "Do you want to kiss me again? Take the edge off."

She should have realized he wasn't going to let that kiss go without a comment. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"Too bad."

"That kiss was…" She didn't know what it was.

"Really interesting," he finished.

"I was having a panic attack. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I'm sorry."

"You don't ever have to apologize for kissing me, Doc. But next time I'd prefer it if you weren't scared for your life."

"There's not going to be a next time."

"You never know."

She didn't like the wicked sparkle in his eyes or the fact that it made her want to make the next time now. She got to her feet, too restless to sit. "I'm going to use the bathroom."

"Most women run toward me, not away, Doc."

She paused, frowning at his cocky drawl. "You're incredibly arrogant."

"I'm incredible at a lot of things. Just give me a chance to show you." His sexy grin made her nerves tingle.

She practically ran down the hall to her bedroom, knowing that if she didn't put a few more feet between them, she might give in to his invitation, and that would be her worst mistake yet. She already had enough problems without getting involved with one moody, know-it-all, sexy-as-hell man.

Chapter Six

Reid's smile faded as Shayla left the room. He'd tried to distract her with his comments, because her nervous tension was still palpable, but teasing her about the kiss they'd shared in Robert's office had been a bad idea. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel her soft curves in his arms and smell the scent of lavender that seemed to linger in her hair and on her skin.

Lavender was supposed to be calming, but when he got near Shayla, he felt nothing close to calm. When she'd first shown up in the bar, he'd been intrigued. When the car had almost run them down, he'd been worried and wary. When they'd hidden in Robert's office, he'd been tense and incredibly turned on. Now…Now, he just felt alive, and it felt good.

He tried to convince himself that it wasn't just having a beautiful blonde in his arms that had woken him up but also the threat of danger, discovery. He'd always been a man to live on the edge of life, to push the limits, to test himself, but for the past six months he'd been living in a fog. Tonight's events had blown through that fog, and he felt like he was seeing clearly for the first time in a long time.

Unfortunately, his new awareness and clarity was not helping him figure out why his brother wanted this notebook of sketches, most of which Robert had originally drawn in his youth, although there appeared to be some newer sketches toward the back. But why would any of this be important to Robert now?

If he didn't know his brother that well, Reid might have said the illustrations had some sort of sentimental value, but Robert wasn't sentimental. He was logical, analytical, ambitious and driven. He didn't waste time on emotions or even on people. He was always in pursuit of his next goal. His only real detour had been Lisa.

Even said in silence, her name tasted bitter. He downed the orange juice, then got up from the couch and went into the kitchen to refill his glass. On his way back to the couch he wandered around Shayla's apartment, a little curious about the woman who had shown up in his life a few hours ago and turned everything upside down.

Had it really only been a few hours since they'd met?

It seemed like they'd known each other for years.

After she'd shared her intensely personal and terrifying experience with him, he'd felt a connection to her. He'd been through similar raids as the one she'd described, although he'd always had a gun, a way to defend himself. He could only imagine what Shayla must have felt when faced with automatic gunfire and almost certain death.

Why she hadn't died was a mystery, and he'd been trained in war games long enough to know that that probably wasn't just luck.

Why kill some people and leave others completely alone? He needed to know more about the individuals who had been killed. Was there a common link between them?

Perhaps Shayla had been spared because she was a doctor. She might have tended to the sick in the very village where the gunmen had come from. Maybe that had been her saving grace.

As he paused in front of a bookcase and saw the numerous medical books on the shelves, he was reminded that Shayla was a lot like his brother when it came to academics. No wonder they'd become friends.

What was more curious was why
he
liked her so much.

While he had no problem with smart women on the job, in fact, he preferred a high level of intelligence in the people he worked with, when it came to the bedroom a high IQ wasn't a prerequisite, nor was it even preferred. Smart women tended to ask more questions, have more demands, and want more from him than he wanted to give. Which was why he needed to keep his hands off of Shayla, because she was probably the smartest woman he'd ever met.

Shaking that thought away, he browsed the notes on her bulletin board. Judging by the miscellaneous take-out menus, Shayla and her roommate didn't cook often. There were also slips of paper with scribbled phone messages and reminders to buy milk and bread as well as a couple of photographs. One pictured Shayla with another woman. They had on white coats with stethoscopes around their necks, and he assumed the other female was probably her roommate or another medical resident. It was interesting to see Shayla actually dressed as a doctor. She looked a little older in the white coat, but there was no denying the bright, youthful sparkle in her eyes.

He was only eight years older than her, but he'd had to grow up really fast once he joined the Army. His experiences there, the things he'd seen, the things he had to do, had changed him in ways he could never change back. He didn't regret those years. He'd loved being a soldier, fighting for his country, for what was right, but over time the lines of war had gotten blurry and sometimes he'd questioned what he was fighting for.

In the past few years, cynicism had settled over him like a heavy, scratchy coat that was both familiar and uncomfortable. The coat had gotten tighter since he'd been injured. He didn't think he could get it off now even if he tried. And he hadn't wanted to try. He hadn't wanted to do anything—until now.

Now he wanted to help Shayla. She was the real reason he'd come this far with her. It wasn't about Robert's need to get out of trouble that had gotten him out of the bar; it was about the look of fear and desperation in Shayla's blue eyes. She needed to move on with her life, but she couldn't get closure until Robert was safe.

So he would save his brother, not for Robert's sake, but for hers.

Then she could move on, and he could do the same. Because being with Shayla was already setting off alarms in his head. She was not the woman for him. He didn't make promises or do forever and Shayla was the kind of woman who deserved both.

The next picture only reconfirmed that thought. Shayla stood in the middle of a huge family that seemed to boast far more members than the seven siblings she'd told him about. The ages ranged from a baby in arms to toddlers, teenagers, adults and several white-haired individuals. There were smiles on every face and an obvious love radiating from the group like a warm golden glow of happiness.

He couldn't remember the last family photo he'd been a part of. And if there had been a photo, he doubted there'd been many smiles. His small family of four individuals was completely disconnected. Although, that wasn't completely true. The other three were in sync; he was the odd man out.

He glanced away from the board as Shayla reentered the room. She looked more composed now, less agitated and fearful. Her cheeks held more color, and judging by the damp strands of hair around her face, she'd obviously splashed on some cold water and taken a moment to pull herself together.

"Is this your family?" he asked.

"Yes, that was taken at my cousin Maya's twenty-first birthday a few years ago. That's about eighty percent of the family that lives here in the city."

He raised an eyebrow. "Eighty percent? There are at least thirty people in the shot."

"I think it's closer to forty if you count all the little kids. Some of my cousins have been prolific at procreating." She paused, smiling fondly at the picture on the board. "My family is really big on celebrating every event in life. Sometimes it seems like a pain to get everyone together. There's always some bickering. We have a lot of strong personalities in the group. But I feel very lucky to have them all in my life."

"Who's the woman you're standing next to?"

"That's Emma. She's older than me by six years. She's an arson investigator with the San Francisco Fire Department."

"An unusual job for a woman."

"Not for a Callaway woman. I come from generations of firefighters. My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my father, brothers, uncles, and cousins are all in the department. It's a family tradition. My father is deputy chief of operations, number two in command. His father was the Chief of Department back in his day, so I come from a long line of leaders."

"But you didn't follow in that tradition."

"No, and I think my dad was actually a little relieved. He wanted the boys to go into firefighting, but he's very protective when it comes to his daughters. He hated every second that Emma was working on the line. But she proved herself to him and everyone else who ever had doubts that she could be as good as any man."

"Sounds like strength runs in the family," he commented.

"It does. My other sister, Nicole, is also very tough. She's not a firefighter, but she's a teacher and the mother of an autistic six-year-old child. She's a warrior on his behalf."

"That's rough."

"Very rough, but Brandon has been making strides the last few months, since he was reunited with his twin brother."

He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a story."

She nodded. "A long one. The short version is that Brandon and Kyle were separated at birth and adopted out to two different families. Neither family had any idea there was a twin until the boys were kidnapped last year."

"Seriously?"

She nodded. "Yes, but thankfully they were rescued and everything ended well. Now the two families are working on co-parenting, because it's really important for the boys to stay together. Kyle, who is perfectly normal, has a way of communicating with Brandon that no one else has, and Brandon has been slowly improving since he got his brother back."

"That's quite a story."

"My family has its share of drama. What are your parents like, Reid? Robert hasn't told me much about his family over the years. I met your parents once at a party. Your father was polite but a little cold."

"A little?" he muttered, thinking that was an understatement. "The man is made of ice when it comes to me. For Robert, he used to thaw every once in a while."

"What about your mom?"

"She's warmer," he conceded. "But both my parents were always busy with work. I often wondered why they bothered to have children. They didn't seem to know what to do with us. Of course that changed when they found out Robert was a genius. That they could relate to. They treated him like a little adult."