Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY
bestselling author
LORI FOSTER

“Foster writes smart, sexy, engaging characters.”

—New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

“Known for her funny, sexy writing.”

—Booklist

“Foster’s latest is pure entertainment and a joy to read.”

—RT Book Reviews on Back in Black

“Foster outwrites most of her peers.”

—Library Journal

“Intense, edgy and hot. Lori Foster delivers

everything you’re looking for in a romance.”

—New York Times bestselling author Jayne Ann Krentz

on Hard to Handle

“Lori Foster delivers the goods.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Tension, temptation, hot action

and hotter romance—Lori Foster has it all!

Hard to Handle is a knockout!”

—New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth Lowell

Dear Reader,

I’m pleased to give you Savor the Danger, book three of my new series of über-alpha hunks featuring private mercenaries who are big, capable, a little dangerous and (I hope) oh-so-sexy. If you read the first two books, When You Dare and Trace of Fever, then you already know why I call them my men who “walk the edge of honor.”

Please note—each of the three books is a stand-alone, so they do not need to be read in order. You will meet characters from the previous books, but the relationships are briefly explained so that the books are independent. My novella in the anthology The Guy Next Door got things started by introducing you to characters related to the heroine of When You Dare.

To see more about the books, including how they’re related and more on the characters, visit my website at www.LoriFoster.com and feel free to chat with me on my Facebook fan page—www.facebook.com/pages/Lori-Foster/233405457965.

I’m very excited about these books, so I hope you enjoy them! Do let me know. My email is on my website.

Savor the Danger
Lori Foster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the Animal Adoption Foundation,

a no-kill animal shelter in Hamilton, Ohio.

Continued gratitude to the shelter for the remarkable

work you do for animals. Gremlin (brother to Liger,

featured in Trace of Fever) is one of the cats that

my son adopted from you. Gremlin has a quirky

personality, a smoker’s meow and a purr that will

melt your heart. Thank you for “rescuing” him

so that we could make him a part of our family.

The AAF will always be one of my “pet projects”

whenever I do fundraising.

To learn more, visit www.AAFPETS.com.

SAVOR THE DANGER

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER ONE

WAKEFULNESS BROUGHT a crescendo beat of pain piercing his brain. He tried to swallow, but the desert at high noon couldn’t be as dry as his mouth.

What the hell was going on?

Disoriented, in agony, Jackson Savor got one eye open.

The source of his sharpest pain was a blinding ray of Kentucky’s morning sunshine slicing through the part in his bedroom curtains.

His curtains. So he was in his own apartment.

With one question answered, he closed his eye again and struggled to take inventory.

Had he been captured? Tortured?

Slowly, very slowly, he moved his right hand. His arm felt like lead, but he lifted it.

Sluggish, a little weak, but not bound, thank God.

He tried to move his left hand and realized that something warm and soft kept him pinned in place. He inhaled…and recognized the enticing, undeniable scent of woman.

Oh, shit.

Staying very still to avoid alerting anyone to his cognizance, Jackson opened his hand and…felt.

He didn’t need a clear head or his vision to know he palmed a very sweet female backside.

Huh.

The body beside him stirred. A slim, smooth leg came over his, gliding up and over his crotch. Inside he jolted, but outside he stayed perfectly still.

A woman purred, “You’re awake?”

Both eyes shot open with recognition. He snapped his head around so fast that pain nearly blinded him.

The knee resting over his dick shifted as the woman readjusted to better see him. “Is something wrong?” Shit, shit, shit. Carefully, his eyelids scraping like sandpaper, Jackson peered to his side and found none other than Alani Rivers. Sleepy, warm, soft. She watched him with sated, golden brown eyes, her pale hair spread out around her—on his pillows.

She had the unmistakable look of a woman who’d spent a satisfying night doing the nasty. With him?

Though no words came from his parched throat, the hand on her ass contracted. Yeah, so his brain wasn’t quite working—his instincts were fine and dandy.

Blushing, Alani ducked her face and rose up to an elbow.

The sheet pulled to her waist, giving him an up close and personal view of her really beautiful breasts and rosy nipples.

His thoughts cramped. So did his balls.

“So quiet this morning,” she murmured as she bent and kissed his mouth. “Especially after last night.” Meaning…what? Had they been noisy? Had he been chatty?

She chewed her bottom lip. “Are you feeling as shy as I am about the things we did?” Shy? Never. What the hell had they done? He tried to sort it out, but beyond the pain and the confusion was the mind-boggling fact that he had Alani Rivers in his bed.

Naked.

Affectionate.

Replete.

And he didn’t know how any of it had happened.

Acid crawled around his guts and squirreled up his throat, making his stomach pitch. Groaning, he threw back the covers.

Didn’t matter if his head fell off, he would not puke in front of her.

In only a few long strides, he made it to the connecting bathroom where he dropped to his knees in front of the john in just the nick of time.

He felt vile. Worse than that even.

What the hell had happened?

“Jackson?”

He looked up to see Alani in the doorway. Naked.

He groaned again. “Go away.”

“But…can I get you—”

“Out!” He kicked at the door. It hit so hard that it bounced open again. He saw her shock and hurt, but damn it, no way in hell did he want her to see him like this.

Luckily for them both, she turned and strode away.

When the nausea finally subsided, he flushed the toilet and, feeling weaker than a newborn, used the edge of the sink to haul himself to his feet. His legs shook. His head thundered.

He turned on cold water, splashed his face, rinsed his mouth, and after a few seconds of mental searching that left him blank, he turned to stagger out.

Alani stood there yet again.

Still naked.

Jackson swayed. He tried, but he couldn’t take it in. For a hell of a long time, he’d wanted her. Now she was here, but…how? Why?

His burning gaze zeroed in on her neat triangle of golden brown pubic hair. Another question answered—but it had nada to do with his current predicament.

She folded her arms under her breasts, which had the effect of getting his riveted attention off her lower body and up a little—as far as her chest anyway.

Ah, damn, so pretty. Had he touched her breasts? Kissed her nipples?

Dizziness assailed him. The possibility of passing out or puking more loomed near.

But God Almighty, she looked fine. Better than fine.

She looked like his.

Face red, voice high, she snapped, “Real nice, Jackson.”

Picking up on the acrimony, he managed to meet her gaze through a fog of emotions. Uh-oh. She looked both hurt and pissed.

Her lips tightened. She gave one fleeting glance at his body, but when he remained mute, her eyes narrowed and she tossed her head, sending back her long fair hair. Like pale liquid, it poured over her smooth skin, mostly behind her shoulders, though one long strand trailed over her breast.

Mesmerized, he took a moment to realize she was talking to him. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” she said. “I told you it would never work.”

Looked to him like it had worked just fine.

But to make sure they were on the same page, he rasped, “It?” Bracing one hand on the door frame, the other squeezing the bridge of his nose, he started on a great admission. “Thing is, I don’t remember—”

“Talking about it?”

Anything. “Uh…”

“Big surprise there, right?” Her attention tracked down over him, then jumped back to his face. “You were too busy getting me naked to listen to reason.”

Sounded like him, he had to admit.

“Too busy racing for the bed,” she complained, “to even think about my concerns, about what I said.”

The words resonated over and over. He’d gotten her naked and in bed.

And then what?

Nothing rational came to his spinning brain, so Jackson just shook his head while again looking at her body. If it wasn’t for the door frame supporting him, he’d be on his face on the floor, but he couldn’t not look at her.

Wounded, disgusted, Alani turned on her heel and stalked back to his bed. Seeing the bounce of her rounded backside gave him a whole new reason to wish his vision wasn’t so blurry.

“Alani…” With no idea what to say, Jackson started to follow her. One jarring step was enough to warn him not to leave the dubious convenience of the bathroom.

His stomach did jumping jacks. In the nick of time he dropped back down in front of the toilet again.

This time when he finished, his stomach muscles ached but his guts felt a little quieter, as if he’d gotten some foul poison out of his system.

Unfortunately, Alani was now fully dressed and marching toward the front door.

Feeling like a weak, mewling pup, he stumbled behind her. “Wait.”

Pausing, she looked back at him—and all over him.

It suddenly dawned on Jackson that he was completely naked, too. He held on to the wall and willed away the pulsing agony in his noggin. “Let’s…talk.”

“So you can get sick again with…regret? No thank you.”

Regret? There was more to regret beyond the fact that he couldn’t remember shitola?

She jerked his front door open but didn’t storm away. With her back to him, her voice quavering, she said, “Don’t worry about it, Jackson. I’m naive, I know, but I’m not dumb. I understand what happened.”

“What?”

“I won’t say a word to anyone and since this will never happen again, you can just forget all about it.”

The slamming of the door almost took out his knees. Slowly, he sank down to the cool hardwood floor in his hallway. His eyes closed, but he could still see Alani naked.

He didn’t want to forget a damn thing.

He wanted to remember.

ALANI STAYED BUSY as long as she could. She’d shopped, cleaned her car, had a light breakfast, seen an early matinee…but no amount of distraction had helped. Her chest still hurt with the weight of thick emotion.

Humiliation vied with regret.

Why had she believed him?

Why had she allowed herself to be so easily swayed?

Fool!

What could have been the most amazing night of her life now felt like the most degrading. Not that she could blame Jackson for everything. She’d been so infatuated with him for so long, it had required very little from him to win her over. A few small words and…

The groan vibrated out, heartfelt, sad and angry.

She’d done things with Jackson that she’d never before considered. He’d encouraged her to speak her mind, to be totally open and honest about what she wanted, what she enjoyed—and he’d done the same. With him, she’d reveled in her sexuality.

And then, with the morning light, he’d taken one look at her and rushed off to be ill.

Her face flamed.

All along, from the very first day she’d met Jackson Savor, she’d known he was trouble. Over and over again she’d resisted him because an involvement with any man who worked with her brother, especially a man too much like her brother, seemed impossible.

Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the caller ID. Speak of the devil… Her brother had already called several times, but she wasn’t up to speaking with him.

She waited until the ringing stopped, then checked her voice mail. Trace said, “Where are you, Alani? I’ve called three times now. I want to talk to you. Call me back.”

She knew Trace fully expected her to do as told, but she couldn’t talk to him right now. If she tried to, she’d get emotional, maybe even weepy. God knew Trace had always been protective, but since her kidnapping more than a year ago, he’d been insane with caution. If he knew she was upset, he’d be on the warpath in minutes. She had no intention of telling him about her misguided—and obviously brief—liaison with Jackson, so there’d be no point in getting him caught up in her personal drama.

By necessity, given the responsibilities inherent in his work, Trace was autocratic by nature, occasionally over-bearing and always too confident.

Jackson was the same.

Actually, so was Trace’s friend, Dare, who had worked with Trace from the inception of the business.

They had typical personalities for lethally honed mercenaries—how else could they remain so successful in their efforts to help others?

Of course, Trace, Dare and Jackson were the only mercenaries she knew. And while each of them was different, they were also, in the most basic ways, the same.

They were men who smiled while squaring off with danger, men who didn’t flinch when put to the test, men who, without a single second of hesitation, would protect others with their own lives.

They were good men.

They were scary men.

Most people, even without knowing of her brother’s vocation, still feared him, and with good reason; Trace emanated danger and capability. To meet him was to be wary of him, and so dating had never been easy for her. Guys took one look at her brother and decided it was safer to keep their distance.

But…Jackson wasn’t like most guys. Because he was on a par with Trace, not much ever intimidated him. In fact, he felt at ease jesting with Trace, even taunting him on occasion with his good humor. Knowing Trace and Dare counted on him in the most dangerous situations, Jackson had promised her that his job security wouldn’t be affected by their involvement.

But then, he’d also sworn that it wouldn’t be awkward. Now she was on her own, and it was so excruciatingly awkward that her face continued to burn.

Unfortunately, Trace called yet again as she parked in the driveway. The phone rang four times and then went to voice mail. Alani just knew Trace would show up on her doorstep if she didn’t touch base.

Hating to fib, but feeling she had no choice, she sent back a text message saying only, “I’m at the movies. I’ll call you soon.”

Then she turned off the phone.

After gathering the clothing bags from her trunk, she started around the walkway that led from the driveway on the side of her small but perfect house to the front door.

She drew up short at the sight of Jackson sprawled out on her porch steps, a cowboy hat on his head, mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes.

He didn’t move, and neither did she.

For half a minute she stood there frozen, unsure what to say, what to do.

He had an utterly relaxed look about him, but then, Jackson had perfected a deceptively indolent pose that hid razor-sharp reflexes and phenomenal speed. Last night, all night, he’d been far from indolent.

Breathing fast, Alani studied him. His continued stillness suggested sleep. Even when she shifted her bags and inched closer, he didn’t move.

The tall oak in her front yard offered plenty of shade, but Jackson hadn’t removed the hat or the sunglasses. He was now clean-shaven. A snowy white T-shirt pulled across his wide chest and shoulders and hung looser around his taut abs.

Age had worn out his faded jeans in select places, such as at the knees, the hems and where they cupped his sex.

Even now, so tranquil, he looked…impressive.

The bombardment of awareness stiffened her knees.

Memories of touching his body, tasting his hot flesh, sent a tide of sensation through her veins. She remembered wrapping her hand around his erection, how he’d groaned all deep and rough, the insanely sexual things he’d whispered to her as suggestions and encouragement, how he’d covered her hand with his own, showing her how hard to squeeze, how fast to stroke….

His total lack of inhibition had left her free to be less inhibited.

She swallowed audibly—and stared some more.

He sat with his long legs loose, one foot braced on a step, the other stretched out, his elbows back, his breathing deep and even.

Alani licked her lips and started to slowly, silently retreat.

“Don’t make me chase you, darlin’.”

Shock snapped her shoulders back. The big faker!

He’d been watching her watch him… Ohhhhh. “I thought you were asleep!”

“And so you figured you could rape me with your pretty eyes? Or will you deny that?”

If she had a rock close by, she’d throw it at him. Teeth set, Alani asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Whatever it takes.” Lazily, he sat upright. Muscles flexed. His shirt pulled tight. With a thumb, he tipped back his hat. Sweat dampened his temples, leaving the ends of his dark blond hair curly. “Where you been anyway? I’ve been baking out here for hours.”

Something in his tone sounded…off. He was just as outrageous as always, but the cocky edge had waned, almost as if he was sick or worried, or both. She didn’t care.

“It’s none of your business, Jackson.”

The barely perceptible curling of his mouth alarmed her. “Full of spice this afternoon, huh?”

Determined to brazen her way through things, Alani put back her shoulders and charged forward. “I’m full of disgust.”

His mouth firmed. “At what we…did?”

Uncertainty didn’t suit him at all. “At myself, actually.” Breath held, she stepped around Jackson, but he didn’t touch her. At the front door she shifted the bags into one arm and, with fumbling hands, fished her keys from her purse. “I should have known better than to—”

His mouth skimmed the back of her neck. Low, sultry, he suggested, “Let’s talk about what we did.”

Fire raced down her spine, and her legs turned to noodles. In an instant, Alani’s mind took her back to his bed where he’d kissed her nape just like that while he slowly took her—doggy-style, he’d called it—from behind, burying himself deep, his arms around her, his hands holding her breasts….

“Stop it!” She shoved the door open and tried to slam it closed again. It bounced off Jackson’s shoulder.

She raced in.

Of course he followed.

Making a beeline for her kitchen, she said with as much venom as she could manage given the fluttering of her stomach, “Get out.”

Not more than two steps behind her, his boot heels sounded on her tile floor.

Her packages held in front of her like a shield, Alani spun around to face him. She sounded far too panicked when she screeched, “I mean it, Jackson!”

He stopped and stared at her. Tension crackled between them.

For a few seconds there, Jackson looked as if he might leap on her, but instead, he chewed his bottom lip, then retreated a step, moving as if not to startle her.

Cajoling, he said, “Take it easy, okay?”

Given the riot of emotions clamoring inside her, taking it easy wasn’t an option. “Don’t placate me!”

Without a word, he set his hat on the counter and tipped his head. Fists low on his lean hips, expression enigmatic, he studied her, all of her. Suddenly her casual, comfy sundress felt insubstantial. Around Jackson, she needed a damn suit of armor.

The concentrated scrutiny left her fidgeting, too warm and vulnerable.

In a rough whisper, he said, “God’s truth, darlin’, I don’t mean to ride roughshod over your feelings, but I need to see you again.” And before she could react to the hunger in his tone, he added, “I don’t suppose we could put this little confrontation on hold long enough for me to appease my curiosity?”

Curiosity? He’d already seen her in great detail throughout the long night. He hadn’t been shy about looking, either.

Where Trace and Dare treated her with kid gloves, Jackson just treated her like a woman he wanted. It was sort of nice in small doses…when he didn’t go overboard.

In light of all that had transpired, his outrageous suggestion was way over the line. Alani threw the clothing bags at him.

The packages landed against his chest and then hit the floor.

He barely flinched at the assault. “I take that as a no?”

“No!”

He cocked a brow at her outburst and then caught her as she tried to shove around him. He was so big and so solidly muscular, it proved too easy for him to wrap her up in his arms and lock her in close, her back against his chest, his forearms under her breasts. “Shh, baby. Don’t.”

Those sultry memories, along with his heat and scent and sex appeal, enveloped her as surely as his body did. Desperate, almost panicked, Alani demanded, “Let me go.”

She felt him flinch, wrapped tight around her. “Sorry, love. Can’t.”

Love. He would dare to use that word now? Her throat tightened in a panic. “Jackson—”

His breath moved past her ear as he whispered, “Give me just a sec, okay?”

She heard the pain in his words, and that calmed her struggle.

“Better,” he breathed and relaxed his hold.

Worry overtook outrage, and she tried to twist to see him. “What’s wrong?”

The tension intensified, and then he said, “I don’t remember a damned thing.”

“About what?”

He rocked her a little, and his voice lowered even more. “Everything. I’m…blank.”

She didn’t understand, but she picked up on his agony, so she stopped straining away from him. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know what happened, honey. With us, with anything.” He hugged her, his chin on the top of her head. “Yesterday is just…gone.”

Disbelieving, Alani jerked around to see him. Standing in the circle of his arms, her hands on his chest, she had to tip her head way back to see his face. “What do you mean, gone?”

Ill at ease, he shrugged. “All I remember is waking up with the king-daddy of all migraines, a wallop of confusion….” He shifted, drawing her closer to his body. His voice went hoarse. “And there you were, in the raw beside me.”

Her heart almost stopped. “But…” She shoved him back accusingly. “You told me you hadn’t been drinking.”

“Did I?” He ran a hand through his dark blond hair, then pulled off the sunglasses. “Because I don’t remember that, either. Hell, I don’t even remember talking to you.”

Immediately sidetracked, Alani strangled on a breath. “Oh my God, Jackson.” Never had she seen eyes so bloodshot. Sympathy welled up. “You look—”

“Like shit, I know. Feel like it, too, believe me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes shut a second, then snapped them open again. “We had sex?”

Good grief, he had a one-track mind. But then she’d found that out last night. She winced as she took in his expression. The whites of his eyes looked blood-red, making the green seem more vivid. But even miserable, his direct gaze managed to keep her snared. “You honestly expect me to believe you don’t remember?”

One large, warm hand hooked her nape, lifting her to her tiptoes so he could kiss her once, hard and fast. “I woke up with my vision dicked, my brain on fire and my guts brawling. And then I saw you, in bed, beside me.” He went gruff with arousal. “You looked so incredible, it’s a wonder that didn’t send me right over the edge.”

“But it did, remember?” She went nose to nose with him and prompted, “You threw up.”

Rather than retreat, he moved in until he surrounded her with his size and his determination. “Woman, there is no way you think you were the cause of that.”

She should have put space between them, but it felt so good being close to him again. It seemed that last night had left her addicted; all morning long, her body had mourned the loss of his scent, the heat of his touch. With less conviction than she intended, she asked, “No?”

“Hell, no.” Restless, his hands kneaded her back. “You looked so hot, I wish I’d taken a photo. I wish I had you painted on the ceiling. Looking at you buck-ass might revive me, and it’ll definitely give me wood, but it would never repulse me or—”

Flustered by his brazen language, Alani smashed her fingers over his mouth. “Just…stop.”

She felt his relieved smile.

And then she felt his tongue.

Quickly, she tucked her hand behind her. When his strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, keeping her in that vulnerable position, she realized her mistake.

“Let’s put it to the test.” He leaned in, his hot breath brushing her cheek, the top of her shoulder. “Let’s get you out of this little dress and we’ll see how I react.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

“I swear, darlin’, I might implode…” His mouth opened on her shoulder in a stirring love bite. “But I won’t be ill. Not even close.”

“Jackson, please.” She tried to retreat two steps—and he reluctantly released her. “I don’t understand any of this. You need to give me time to think.”

“Maybe you’d think better naked.” He touched the hem of her dress and murmured more to himself than to her, “It’d be pretty easy to get you out of this—”

Infuriated, she slapped his hand away and glared at him.

“Okay, okay.” Frowning, he gestured his subdued agreement. “Think away.”

How could he not remember anything? What he’d said, what he’d done… All the things she’d said and done, the things she sort of regretted now.

“How is this possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“So just like that,” she asked with skepticism, “you’ve lost the details of last night?”

“That’s about it.”

Humiliation hung with her, but knowing he had no memory of it alleviated a big part of the regret. She gave him a sideways look. “This is sort of convenient.”

He shook his head. “I hear the suspicious tone, babe, but I’m not firing on all cylinders today, so you’ll have to spell it out for me. No way in hell does any of this seem convenient to me.”

Could he be telling the truth rather than dodging responsibility for his actions of last night? Maybe. After all, she’d left him with no obligation, and she’d promised not to tell anyone. He had no real reason to pretend he’d forgotten it all.

Thinking aloud, she said, “It’s just that it’s so unreal.” What would explain such a thing?

“Tell me about it.” Gaze hot and far too intense, he bent his knees to search her face. “Did I get inside you, sugar? I’m dying to know.”

Wide-eyed, Alani turned to give him her back. Jackson’s effect on her was enough that, even with so many unanswered questions, she wanted to rush him into the bedroom and do it all again. But that would be dumb. If she slept with him again, she wanted the time to talk and clear the air first.

Besides, he didn’t exactly look able to do all those awesomely amazing things again. But on the tail end of that thought, he stepped closer again and she felt a solid erection nudging her backside.

“Jackson!” Never in her life had she done so much screeching. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Suffering. You gotta tell me something here, Alani. Please.”

Frustrated, she snapped, “Can’t you turn it off for just a minute? We need to talk.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Red-eyed and a little shaky, he still sounded and looked on the make. It was there in his voice, the set of his hard shoulders, the probing way he watched her. “Since the day I laid eyes on you, I’ve wanted to get you out of your panties. You know it, because I wasn’t shy about it.”

“Certainly not.” He’d been overwhelmingly obvious.

“And now it seems like I finally did, but damn it all, I can’t remember it. Before you can expect me to concentrate on anything else, you gotta put me out of my misery.”

Her mouth pinched; she forced herself to face him again. “Okay, so maybe you don’t remember, but still you know.” He wasn’t an idiot. Waking up with her naked, wrapped around him, smiling like a satisfied sap, had to be a pretty good clue.

His gaze stroked over her features. “I’m assuming.” His interest settled on her mouth. “I’m hoping. But I need the details.” He caressed her shoulders. “Damn, woman, do I ever need the details.”

Yes, to some extent he probably did. That’d only be fair. But she’d be judicious. She’d tell him only the basics. All the rest, her overblown moans and begging, the things he’d done to her, the things she loved him doing…no way would she tell him any of that.

Not looking at him helped, but just a little. She swallowed and whispered, “You…we…”

“Had sex?”

Sex didn’t quite cover it, but she nodded and took a breath. “Yes.”

Muscled arms came around her once more, cuddling her close, his hold somehow pleased and possessive. “It was good?”

Could Jackson Savor be insecure about his performance? Actually, that’d make sense for anyone who couldn’t remember. She nodded.

He growled low, “Did you come?”

She tried to lurch away, but instead she found herself turned into him, her breasts against his chest, his heartbeat matching her own.

As if he already sensed the answer—and liked it—he got that seductive, lazy look about him. “Did you?”

Face hot, she nodded. “I…yes.”

Mouth curling the smallest bit, he whispered, “A wimpy little come, or a really smokin’ hot, screaming orgasm?”

Memories battered her, wearing her down until her mouth went dry. Rather than admit too much, she settled on saying, “Um…not wimpy.”

He expanded on a deeply indrawn breath. “Did I go down on you?”

Oh, lord. She felt it all again, that insane spiraling of pleasure, growing tighter and tighter, the touch of his cool hair and rough jaw on the insides of her thighs, his velvet tongue, the gentle bite of his teeth.

The tugging of his mouth as he sucked on her most sensitive flesh.

Her breath labored, and…she nodded.

Jackson’s muscles bunched, his nostrils flared. His voice going thick and hot, he asked, “Did you come then, too, darlin’? With my mouth on you?”

Her orgasm had been so incredible, she’d wept. But she couldn’t bring herself to be that explicit. She licked her lips and, in a mere breath of sound, admitted, “Yes.”

Putting his forehead to hers, Jackson groaned like a man in agony.

Alani touched his chest. Heat, strength, safety. He was all of that and so much more. But why couldn’t he remember? “Were you sick, Jackson? Is that why you can’t remember?” Looking at the morning in a new way, she realized he’d been seriously ill.

And she’d stormed out on him.

Flushed with shame, she cupped a hand around his neck. “Are you all right now?”

“All right? Hell, no. I’m tortured by what I can’t remember.” He covered her hand with his, lifted it to his mouth to kiss her palm. “After all that time of me wanting you so bad, and you turning me down flat, how the hell did I finally manage to win you over?”

CHAPTER TWO

IT WASN’T EASY for Alani to accept that he truly couldn’t recall a single detail. She’d suffered so much angst over her gullibility, over behavior that, for all intents and purposes, no longer mattered.

Except that she wanted to do it again.

Unwilling to expose her heart, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, darlin’. Something swayed you.” He tried a strained half smile. “Help me out here.”

Because Jackson looked so agonized, she tried to give him the simplest of truths. “It doesn’t matter anymore, but it was the things you said as much as anything you did.”

“Yeah?” He brought up her chin, leaving her no choice but to look into his deep green eyes. “Like what?”

He kept touching her with an implied intimacy, stroking, nuzzling. She’d just spent hours coming to grips with the idea that she’d succumbed to a one-night stand, yet he acted as though they’d just begun a long affair.

She discounted everything he’d said last night, but still…did he want more?

If so, how much more?

He trailed his fingers over her cheek, around her neck, over her bare shoulder.

She shivered. Jackson might be sick from whatever had taken his memory, but he was still the quintessential primal male. Always.

At least…that’s how he always was with her.

Was he like that with every woman? Probably. Even Dare’s and Trace’s wives had noted Jackson’s good looks and sex appeal.

Shaking her head, Alani refused to think about it. “It was just…things you said. That’s all.” Things he’d promised, commitments he’d insinuated. “I guess it’s the stuff guys say to women when they want to talk them into bed.”

That made him frown. “Like what? Compliments? Big deal. When have I ever not complimented you?”

Sure, Jackson did a lot of sweet-talking—while on the make. “No, this was different.” This had felt more genuine, wrought from emotion and not just lust.

“How?” His attention drifted to her chest. “I bet I told you how damn sexy you are.”

Resisting an eye roll wasn’t easy. Later he had called her sexy, but at that point they’d already been on a heated path to lovemaking and she’d felt sexy.

She wasn’t sure she could pinpoint the moment that she’d known she would sleep with him, but that day he’d been different. Not more intense, because that wasn’t possible. Jackson was always intense.

But from the second she’d walked in the door, he’d looked at her, touched her and spoken to her differently.

He’d spoken from his heart—or so she’d thought.

Renewed embarrassment made her defensive. “Actually, you said I’m pretty.” And that was both sweeter and more touching than claiming her “hot” or “sexy.” Those sentiments had been expressed by the men who’d taken her, the men who’d manhandled her, restrained her, touched her, the men who’d planned to—

“Hey.” As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Jackson pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. Sounding much as he had last night, he said, “You are pretty, Alani. So damn pretty.” His mouth brushed her ear. “All over.”

Face warm, she shook off the remnants of old emotion, fear and desolation from her kidnapping, discomfort from her naiveté last night.

“Thank you.” Dare had killed her kidnappers, and her brother now focused on destroying all human traffickers. She wasn’t with those men anymore. She was with Jackson, and he was about all she could handle right now. “You also said I was sweet.”

His burning gaze zeroed in on the notch of her thighs. “God, I bet you are.”

Her knees went shaky, so she pushed back from him. Hoping for a few calm moments to think, she said, “We have to figure this out, Jackson, so leash the lust.”

His chin went up as he stared down at her. “Woman, you ask the impossible.”

“Do it anyway!”

Sighing, lifting his hands from her as if in surrender, he stepped back. “This is me trying.”

Though the situation couldn’t be more skewed, he remained strong and capable. She envied him that. “What do you think happened? Did you drink?”

“Doubt it.” He shook his head. “I can’t remember, but I’m not much of a drinker.” And then with a shrug, “Never have been.”

She knew that about him. It was a control thing. Her brother and Dare…they disdained alcohol because it could throw off reflexes or perception, and they were all about control—of themselves and others. If Jackson imbibed much, they wouldn’t trust him.

She didn’t know the whole story of how Jackson came to join their team, but not long after she’d been recovered from Tijuana, they’d brought him on board. Obviously they trusted him, and that meant Alani could trust him, too—at least about this.

With anything more personal, like a romantic relationship, she just didn’t know.

He watched her every move. “I rummaged through my apartment, even the garbage, but I didn’t see any empty bottles. No sign of a drinking binge on my end.”

Suspicions crowded in, but for the moment, she pushed them aside. “Did you maybe fall and hit your head?”

That insulted him. “No.” He snorted. “Course not.”

“But you don’t remember, right? So how do you know?”

Roughly tousling his own hair, he said, “See? No bruises, no bumps.” He moved in again. “In fact, other than a few scratches that I’m hoping came from you, I don’t have any marks—no bruises or cuts or anything.”

“Scratches?”

His mouth quirked sensually. “On my shoulders. Small half moons right where a woman usually holds on tight when she’s—”

“So.” Interrupting seemed the safer course. “You probably weren’t involved in a scuffle, then.”

He shook his head. “Let’s talk about what might’ve happened…after.”

Would his possibilities mesh up with her suspicions? Likely. “After what?”

He pointed a finger at her. “Maybe you don’t understand how it is for me, how it’d be for any guy, but especially for me since I’ve been hot on your tail for a while now.”

The things he said, and how he said them, were both insulting and somehow…flattering. “Jackson…”

“To make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings, let me clue you in, okay? I’ve got a bad case for you.”

“Sexual chemistry. I know. You’ve told me.” Last night it had felt like more, but last night didn’t exist for him.

“Call it whatever you want, doesn’t matter to me.”

Sadly, what they called it mattered a lot to her. “I see.”

“Don’t go twisting my words, okay?” Jackson thrust out his chin. “Bottom line is that I have to know what we did. All of it.”

“I already told you.”

“We had sex, yeah. Got it. But that could mean a whole range of things. I need the particulars, like if it was nice and slow, or fast and furious.”

Oh. She peeked at him. “Both?”

He went still, then clasped his head and groaned again. In a croak, he asked, “Good old missionary, or did we mix it up a bit? Bedroom or living room?”

The first time had been in his bed. Then his shower. And later in the hall, against the wall. “All of the above.”

His nostrils flared. “How many times did I have you, anyway?”

She bit her lips then ventured… “All night?”

Jerking away, he stalked three steps, then rushed back to her. “Lights on or off?”

“On.” He’d insisted, but at that point, she hadn’t cared. She had enjoyed the concentrated way he’d looked at her, and she’d wanted to see him, too.

Not only had she forgotten any shyness over her nudity, she’d also forgotten about the past, about men who’d taken her and looked at her, handled her like property. With Jackson, she’d overcome a lot of hang-ups. Maybe too many, considering the night had been built on fraud.

His expression a mix of pleading and demand, he grabbed her shoulders. “Damn, baby, I need to see you again. All of you. I need to know how you sound when you’re excited, and when you come.” His busy fingers went to the shoulder strap of her sundress, touching almost idly, playing with it as if it tempted him greatly. “I need to taste you, smell you—”

Stunned, flustered and a little turned on, Alani grabbed his wrist. She hated to disappoint him—and herself—but she saw no other choice. Not right now. “Jackson,” she said gently, “you can’t seriously expect me to put aside everything that happened and just…”

“Pick up wherever we left off? Yeah.” He searched her gaze. “God, yeah.”

“Not happening.” But he looked very endearing in his need. No one had ever wanted her the way Jackson Savor did.

He also looked ready to collapse. Worried for him, she touched his jaw and forced her mind onto more immediate matters. “Have you eaten?”

He scowled. “No. Screw that.” He drew himself up. “You think I could wake up with you naked, soft and smiling one minute, pissed off and storming out the next, with no clue why or how, and I’d just go about my day?”

Yes, well, that did sound absurd. “Sorry.”

“After you left, I suffered through a cold shower, choked down three aspirin and prayed for even a kernel of memory. I got jack-shit. Nothing.”

And yet, when he should be resting in his bed, all he wanted was…her.

Her heart softened more, and her reservations waned. “Why do you think you’ve forgotten?”

Frustration clenched his jaw. His head dropped back on his shoulders, eyes closed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

How could she, especially with him looking so sick? “Of course not.”

His eyes narrowed, and that, too, looked painful, prompting her to change tactics.

“This is ridiculous. You need to sit down.” She took his hand and led him back to her living room. At the couch, she stopped and pressed against his chest. “Sit.”

After a heartbeat where he looked as if he might argue, he more or less fell into the cushions, his strong limbs lax, his entire demeanor devastated. And the enormity of it all hit her, really hit her.

Even the strongest of men had moments of weakness. Jackson always seemed so indomitable, so confident.

But for right now, he needed her, in more ways than one.

Maybe she hadn’t been the only one played last night.

Sinking down next to him, Alani touched his forehead. As if surprised, he went very still.

“No fever.” She cupped his jaw, and felt it firm under her fingers. “Although you are warm.”

Warily, Jackson watched her.

She smoothed his unruly blond hair. It was a little too long, bleached by the sun. Cool and silky. Such a contrast to his inner strength and his external hardness.

Alani made up her mind. “We’re definitely going to talk about this, Jackson, you can believe that. But first I’m going to get you something to drink, and then something to eat. When did you take the aspirin?”

One eye twitched in rebellion. “Don’t start mothering me, Alani. That’s not what I want from you.”

She smiled at his surly tone. “Consider it friendly concern, okay?”

“Call it whatever you want, but I’d rather you lift up that dress, skim off those panties and straddle my lap.”

His audacity stole her breath and her aplomb. “Forget that idea.”

“With you touching me? Not likely.”

“It’s not my touch that’s doing it.” Playful, hoping to tease him into a less sexually aggressive mode, she nudged him with her shoulder. “It’s from all the provocative talking you’re doing.”

Slowly he shook his head. “It’s from you, babe. Talking to you, thinking about you.” His eyes closed for only a moment as he whispered, “Remembering you naked.” He rested a big, hot hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her sundress.

“You need to focus, Jackson.”

“I’m focused, believe me.”

Boy, was he ever. “On something other than sex.”

“I’m focused on you, and thoughts of sex automatically follow.” He tugged her closer. “But you know, I could be a lot more cooperative if you’d help me take the edge off first.”

And exactly how did he think to do that?

His hand slid higher while his voice went lower. “Just let me touch you—”

She grabbed his wrist. So thick, so solid. Dangerous waves of desire weakened her resistance. “We can’t do this.”

“We sure as hell can.” And then, “We already did. Right?”

Unnerved by how tempted she felt, Alani shook her head. “I can’t do this, not right now. So tell me, when did you take the aspirin?”

He stared at her mouth, and his fingers contracted. “Before I headed here, ’bout three hours ago.”

Relieved that he’d finally let up, she released a tight breath. “All right. I’ll get a couple more. Do you want to take off your boots?”

Slowly he nodded. “And my shirt.” His gaze came up to snare hers. “Maybe my pants, too.”

That was his most tempting offer so far. She hadn’t gotten nearly enough time to look at him last night, and this morning…well, he’d been vague, sick, and she’d been so insulted….

To remind herself as much as him, she said, “Forget it, Jackson. You’re not up for it.”

“Wrong.” His hand slid around to cup behind her knee. He tugged her leg toward him, over one of his thighs. “Trust me, I’m up.”

Don’t look, don’t look— Unbelievable. A full erection strained the worn denim of his jeans.

“Jackson.” Before things could get completely out of hand, Alani pushed up and away from him. “Be right back.”

She heard Jackson groan as she more or less fled the room.

When she returned minutes later with the aspirin, a cola and a sandwich, Jackson looked to be sleeping again. He had his head back, one forearm over his eyes, his body relaxed.

She wasn’t fooled; he still had an erection, so she knew he was wide-awake. “Here you go.”

Lowering the arm, he tracked her every move as she set the plate of food on the coffee table and sat down beside him to hand him the aspirin.

He eyed the glass of ice and foaming cola. “You open a new can?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t accept the aspirin. Showing his teeth in the semblance of a smile, he said, “Let’s strike a bargain.”

Given the look in his eyes, Alani already had an idea what he’d say. She had tried to use her time in the kitchen to collect herself. One look at Jackson, and she was lost again. “What kind of bargain?”

He caught her wrist and tugged her toward him. “Kiss me, and I’ll take the aspirin.”

She wanted to so badly. “Only a kiss?” she asked doubtfully.

“For now.”

She hesitated. He didn’t.

Taking her lack of denial as agreement, he drew her closer saying, “C’mon now, you can at least give me that.”

“I…” Was it even possible to resist him? She didn’t think so. “All right.”

She’d barely gotten the words out before his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was soft, hot.

Deep.

Before she knew it, he had her on her back on the sofa. He still held her wrist as he settled between her legs, pinning her down with his big body. He turned his head for a more complete fit, his tongue moving past her teeth, teasing hers.

Alani quickly lost the fight, already wanting him, needing him—and he freed her mouth.

Balanced over her, he dragged in a breath. “I’m coming on too strong.”

“Yes.” But she actually liked it.

He sawed his teeth together. “Just so you know, honey. You can trust me. No means no to me. If you say it—”

“I will.”

Panting, he pushed up on stiffened arms and said, “Give me the damn aspirin.” But he didn’t wait for her. He took them from her hand, tossed them back and reached for the drink. After downing half the glass, he plunked it back to the coffee table and stared at her. “We going for round two?”

“Round two?”

He gave one sharp nod. “You want me to eat, you gotta kiss me again.”

Forget bargains. His obvious need made everything else unimportant. Already reaching for him, she said, “Okay.”

His eyes blazed. He lowered himself to her.

And a knock sounded on her front door.

Alani went stiff with apprehension.

Jackson cursed under his breath.

The knock sounded again, more urgent this time, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock.

Ohmigod. That had to be her brother; no one else had a key to her place. She shoved frantically at Jackson’s shoulders. “Jackson, move!”

On a ragged groan, he started to do just that—and the door opened.

They both swiveled their heads.

Not only her brother stood there, but Dare, too. Both men froze.

Alani’s heart shot into her throat. She was trying to think of what to say, how to ease the awkwardness, when Jackson sat up and pulled her into his side.

As if awkward situations didn’t faze him at all, he said, “I’d shoot you both for rotten timing, but I guess we had to do this sooner or later.”

His face drawn from his surprise, his eyes narrowed and his demeanor mean, Trace slammed the door. “Yeah,” he said, and he started forward. “Let’s do this now.”

JACKSON WAS MORE than a little amazed when, before he could even decide if he wanted to face off with Trace or not, Alani jumped up to stand in front of him. She spread her slim arms wide and braced her feet apart. “Knock it off, Trace. Right now.”

Furious, Trace drew up short. “I knew you were fibbing when you told me you were at the movies.”

“Sorry about that.” Alani squirmed in guilt. “I just… I needed some time.”

“So I see.”

Brows climbing high, Dare leaned around Trace to see Jackson. “She’s protecting you?”

Suffering his own surprise, Jackson settled back into the couch. “Guess so.”

With his first good look at Jackson, Dare recoiled. “Jesus, man. You look like—”

“Shit. I know.” He caught Alani’s waist and plunked her down…right into his lap. Her backbone went stiff, probably from shock at his daring.

To her brother, he said, “Get a grip, Trace. We need to talk.”

Held back by Alani’s displeasure and probably his own sense of fair play, Trace locked his jaw. “It hardly needs explanation.”

“’Fraid it does.”

Stiffening even more, Alani gasped and jerked around to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

Her appalled tone quadrupled Dare and Trace’s curiosity. Trace asked, “Don’t dare do what?”

Jackson didn’t want to embarrass her, so it was with a lot of regret that he said reasonably, “They have to know, honey.”

“Jackson…” she warned.

“One of you better spit it out,” Dare said. “My imagination is in hyperdrive.”

“I think someone drugged me.”

Dare and Trace pulled back. “Well, hell,” Dare said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Alani tried to leave him, but Jackson held on, and short of causing a scene, she couldn’t.

Trace, never one to miss a thing, glared.

Dare sat on the edge of the chair, patience personified. “All right, let’s hear it.”

Alani struggled anew, and that prodded Trace’s anger. In a deadly whisper, he ordered, “Let her go.”

His deadly whispers didn’t faze Jackson. “Not happening.”

Trace started forward.

And just that quick, Alani stopped fighting him and instead went back to defending him. “Stop right there, Trace! I mean it.”

Trace pulled up short, his left eye twitching.

No sense in dragging this out and making it worse, Jackson decided. “I woke up this morning with—”

“Jackson!”

“—Alani in bed with me.”

A collective breath-holding took place. Hell, he could almost hear heartbeats, it got so damn quiet. Jackson looked at Dare and then Trace.

Giving Alani a slight hug, he said, “Thing is, I have no recollection at all of getting her there.”

Beyond their slack-jawed surprise, neither Dare nor Trace reacted.

Jackson shrugged. “For a few hours this morning I was sick as hell, seeing double, light-headed, weak.”

Alani looked guilty, probably because she’d stormed out on him. But he understood her reaction. Always, whenever he’d considered getting her under him, he’d thought in terms of gentleness, easing her into things, showing deference to her lack of experience and the trauma of her past.

Had he been gentle with her? God, he hoped so, because her proverbial “morning after” sure had sucked. It’d been memorable—for being so awful.

Jackson hugged her again. Of course Dare and Trace both noticed.

“All I can think is that someone drugged me, but I don’t know who would do that, or how or why. Far as I can remember, I spent the day working on my house.” The place was livable but far from complete, so he preferred to stay in his current residence still. His plan had been to get Alani involved, using her expertise as a professional decorator. Whether she’d accepted it or not, he knew the sexual spark was there between them, and time together, alone, would only work in his favor.

But now…hell, he could maybe use the plan to soften her up after whatever had transpired yesterday.

“You see anyone while you were working?”

Jackson shook his head. “Not that I can remember.”

Silence reigned.

Since Alani burned with embarrassment and Trace looked lethal, Dare took over.

“If you were drugged, it could’ve been Rohypnol. Easy enough to slip that into a drink. It’s a sedative, so it could make you sick, and it can cause that amnesiatic effect.”

Jackson’s brain throbbed even more. “A date-rape drug? Seriously?”

Alani panicked. “We need to take him to the hospital!”

“No.” Jackson held her when she started to stand. He had no intention of getting on anyone’s radar. When he found out who had done this, he’d handle it himself, without the interference of local officials.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Alani told him with venom.

“Too late,” Trace said.

Jackson ignored the insult. He got where Trace was coming from. Alani’s brother didn’t like being blindsided with the idea that his baby sister was in a sexual relationship. Understandable.

Jackson only wished he could remember the sexual relationship.

Again, Dare interceded. “I’m not sure the hospital would do him much good, hon. Urine screens don’t look for Rohypnol. A blood test would be better but usually hospital labs don’t have the equipment to screen for it, so it’d have to be a send-out—and that takes time.”

“And by then, I’ll be fine,” Jackson told her. He ran his hands up and down her arms, hoping to reassure her. “I’m already feeling better, in fact.” A lot better, given how she’d kissed him, how quickly she’d melted once he got his mouth on hers.

Soon as he could get rid of Dare and Trace, he’d show her how great he felt.

Course, he needed to get it together. He absolutely couldn’t continue the hot and heavy relentless pursuit. Alani could take it as a lack of respect, maybe think he only wanted one thing from her, when in fact, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted.

Sex, definitely. Conversation, sure. He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him. What all that meant, he couldn’t say. He refused to jump the gun and mire himself in emotional restraints.

Once he had her, he’d be able to regroup and become a gentleman again. Maybe. With the way she pushed all his buttons, he couldn’t be sure—

Alani fretted. “I don’t know…”

“If we’re assuming he was given a roofie, then he can ride it out,” Dare told her.

“Well…” She looked at Jackson again, full of soft concern and maybe even caring. “Okay.”

Trace shook his head in disgust. “It wasn’t really up to you, Alani.”

No, it wasn’t. Never would Jackson let a woman dictate to him. It wasn’t in his nature. But to soften that reality, he said, “Trust me, Alani, I’m okay.”

Her censuring gaze swept the room. “As if any of you would admit to needing help.”

Dare took that as her agreement. “Great, then that’s settled. Now on to the rest.” He gave Alani a pointed look. “You spent the night with him?”

Her chin went up. “Yes.”

“What time did you get to his place?”

At the no-nonsense questioning and lack of condemnation—at least from Dare—she calmed a little. “Around dinnertime yesterday.”

“He was okay when you got there?”

“He was…” She glanced at Jackson, lifted a shoulder. “I suppose so. That is, he seemed a little off, but still—”

Trace suddenly lost it. With disbelief, he said, “Jackson, Alani? Really?”

She shouted right back, “Yes, really.”

“Without a single date? Without a damn clue? Or is that something you’ve kept from me?”

“No!” Then she flushed and cast a harassed look at Jackson. “That is…”

“He knows what it is, honey.” Not about to let her brother badger her into ending things before he even had a chance to figure out what he wanted, Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Get used to it, Trace.”

Dare held up a hand. “Do you think we could keep it civil so we can figure out what happened?”

Jackson shrugged. “Fine by me.” Never mind that he’d been slipped a mickey, that his head still pounded and his strength hadn’t completely returned. Alani was a warm, soft weight on his lap.

With every breath, he inhaled the unique perfume of her body. For the first time ever, he was able to stroke his fingers through her long blond hair, as he did right now. He could touch her skin, kiss her—and he did, lifting her delicate hand to brush his mouth over her knuckles.

She shivered, but otherwise tried to pretend the kiss meant nothing.

Trace looked apoplectic, but what the hell? Jackson couldn’t stop himself. Her brother was damn lucky he hadn’t already thrown him out so that he and Alani could get back to business.

But then again, why kick Trace out when his presence goaded Alani into showing her true feelings?

At any other time, having a woman—having anyone—act protective would insult the hell out of him. He could damn well face any problem head-on without help; he’d been doing it all his life. He didn’t need anyone shielding him.

But Alani wasn’t just any woman. She was special, so he relished this new twist. It beat the hell out of her telling him “no” any day.

Dare said to Trace, “Well?”

“Fine. But let’s get on with it.”

“Stop rushing him. He’s been through enough.”

Jackson hid his grin. When he’d first met Alani, he’d known she wasn’t the fainthearted flower her brother made her out to be. Sure, she was a delicate little thing, especially compared to his height and physicality. But she had the same strength of character, the same conviction, stubbornness and independence as Trace.

Losing their parents young had to have been rough. But Trace had overcompensated. He’d sheltered Alani more than she needed, pampered her beyond reason.

And then she’d been taken by human traffickers, and…

Jackson put his arms around her and pressed his face into her neck. He hadn’t known her then, but he couldn’t think about it without wanting to kill men who were already dead.

Mistaking his reaction for something altogether different, Alani touched his hair with a gentle hand. “Jackson, are you okay? Do you feel sick again? We can put off the inquisition until later, if you need more time.”

Trace growled in annoyance.

“He’s fine, Alani.” Dare gave Jackson a pointed look until he sat up straight again. “But he won’t be if he doesn’t start explaining soon.”

“Can’t.” Knowing more discussion would embarrass Alani further, but seeing no help for it, Jackson rolled a shoulder. “All I remember is finding Alani in my bed. I was wasted, she walked out on me, and that’s all I know. You’re going to have to grill her for the nitty-gritty.” And maybe in the bargain, he’d find out a few things, too.

Her elbow came back sharp and hard into his ribs. So much for her concern.

Trace’s face went red. Jackson knew he wanted to curse, but he tried hard to curb his language around his sister.

“Then it’s up to you, hon,” Dare said to Alani. “Did you notice anything off, anything different, when you went to his place?”

Alani licked her lips. “Actually, I did.” She cast a furtive glance at Jackson.

“He acted different? Drugged?” Trace asked. “And you still slept with him?”

She glared at her brother. “No. That is, other than seeming somehow…more sincere—”

“I was ever insincere?” Jackson asked her.

“Will you all stop interrupting?”

Dare encouraged her, saying, “Go on, Alani.”

With an effort, she gathered herself. “Jackson mostly seemed the same as always. Cocky, flirting, trying to charm the pants off every woman.”

Trace said, “I don’t need to hear this.”

“I don’t mean me.” But then she added, a little abashed, “Well, yes—me, too—I guess.”

Jackson gave her another squeeze.

“But I was talking about his neighbor.”

Everyone spoke at once, with Dare asking, “What neighbor? A woman?” and Trace saying, “You saw him flirting with her and still you stayed?”

Jackson announced, “I don’t flirt with my neighbors.”

Still on his lap, Alani raised a hand to quiet them all and then twisted to face Jackson. “I was going to tell you about this, but I wanted you to eat first.”

“He doesn’t need to be babied,” Trace grumbled.

“You be quiet!”

Her outburst left Trace bemused—and silent.

Hoping to calm her, to be a contrast to Trace’s animosity, which wasn’t winning him any points with Alani, Jackson bit back his automatic rebellion against her concern. “He’s right, honey. I keep telling you I’m fine.”

She turned back to Jackson. “You were really sick.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her closer to whisper, “Otherwise we’d still be in bed right now.”

Though he couldn’t have heard, Dare said, “Knock it off, Jackson. You’re wasting valuable time.”

Grim, Jackson said, “The only female neighbor I talk with much is Mrs. Guthrie, but she has to be sixty.”

Alani shook her head. “I assumed she was a neighbor because she was barefoot.”

The men all shared a look. If she’d been barefoot, maybe it was for the sake of stealth.

“But I didn’t watch her leave,” Alani explained, “so I don’t know where she went after she walked out your door. Maybe she wasn’t a neighbor. Maybe she was a…a date.”

Unable to think of any woman he’d have invited to his apartment, Jackson said, “Describe her.”

Alani shrugged. “I’d say in her early thirties.”

“No.”

She frowned. “Being thirty removes her from your radar?”

Not since meeting Alani had he gotten overly involved with anyone. He took care of business and ended it there. Period.

He did not invite any woman into his home.

No way in hell would he admit that to Alani, though, much less in front of Trace and Dare. “I’m just saying I’m not seeing any women in their thirties.”

“Short brown hair.”

“How short?”

Her face pinched with annoyance. “Pixie cut.”

He shook his head—and lifted a long hank of Alani’s silky fair hair to admire it. It was straighter and paler and a whole lot softer than his own. “Nope.”

Alani refused to be diverted. “Dresses like a hooker?”

“In her thirties? No.” There had been that one broad… No. That was ages ago and couldn’t even be called a one-night stand. Maybe an hour-long stand… He snorted. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“And I suppose you know every woman who lives near enough to drop in?”

“Didn’t say that.” But, like any other red-blooded male, he’d noted the more attractive ladies. “Hell, if any of my neighbors were good-looking, and if I wasn’t expending all my energy chasing you, I still wouldn’t go that route.”

Dare nodded. “Too close for comfort.”

“Exactly.”

Alani frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Complications,” Trace explained as he paced.

Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “What kind of complications?”

“The kind where, after the sex is done and the interest gone, you’re stuck with an annoyed woman in close proximity to where you live.”

Slowly, taut with judgment, Alani swiveled around with a dark frown aimed at Jackson.

He said, “Uh…” Trace wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to spell it out to her like that.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Trace saved him by slashing his hand through the air. “Does she sound like anyone you’ve been with?”

Jackson shook his head. “Nope.”

To Alani, Trace asked, “Did you speak to her?”

“Well…yes.” With renewed annoyance, Alani glared at Jackson again. “She answered your door for you.”

Jackson’s brows shot up. “Where the hell was I?”

“On the couch.” She poked him in the chest. “You were all lounged back, comfortable, your feet up on the coffee table. I was ready to leave since you appeared otherwise involved, but then you got up when you saw it was me at the door, and the woman said she had to go anyway, and…”

“Jesus, Alani.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” She turned her cannon on her brother again. “Did Jackson do anything you haven’t done?”

“He was with another woman!”

She started to bolt off Jackson’s lap, but when he held on to her hips, she subsided, too anxious to fight her brother to quibble over her position. “So? We didn’t have any kind of understanding—”

“We do now,” Jackson announced, just in case she’d missed that important fact.

“—and he said he was thrilled to see me.”

Whoa. On a gut level, Jackson rejected that wording. “Thrilled?” Sure, he might have been thrilled, but would he really have been that obvious?

Dare grinned, shook his head and repeated, “Thrilled,” with clear mockery.

“And that’s all it took?” Trace asked.

She strangled on a deep inhale. “Are you calling me easy?”

“No!” Now Trace looked appalled. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Jackson’s sincerity was enough for me to stay. And then…well…”

They all waited.

“Oh, forget it!” And this time she got away from Jackson. “It happened, okay? Get over it so we can concentrate on the fact that he was drugged.”

“No one is forgetting that, hon.”

She glared at Dare. “We need to know who she is.”

“And if she worked alone,” Jackson said.

“Doesn’t seem likely.” Silently fuming, Trace stepped up close to frown down at Alani. “What about your financier?”

Oh, hell. Jackson had forgotten all about Marc Tobin. Sitting forward, he stated, “That’s over.” Or at least it better be.

At the same time, Alani said, “I broke things off with him.”

Tension washed out of Jackson’s shoulders, leaving him with a certain sort of contentment. The persistent throbbing in his temples faded.

Trace looked from Alani to Jackson and back again. “Since when?”

“A little more than a week ago.”

A whole week? And she hadn’t come to him right away? Damn, had she been grieving over the breakup?

“Did you give him a reason?” Dare wanted to know.

“None of your business.”

Trace brought her chin back around. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe you don’t know how this works, but under the circumstances, we need to hear everything. It’s the only way we can really analyze the potential danger.”

“You actually think Marc could be involved?”

“He’d have reason to be furious with Jackson—or with you.”

Surprise held her silent for a heartbeat before she scoffed. “You think I’m in danger? That’s absurd. Jackson is the one who was drugged.”

Unable to hide his smirk, Trace said, “Getting all the facts is the only way we can protect Jackson, too.”

Oh, now, that burned his ass. “I don’t need—”

Before Jackson could finish protesting, Alani faltered. “But…Marc wouldn’t have had anything to do with—”

“Jackson getting doped? Probably not, so don’t get alarmed. But I want you to tell me everything anyway.”

Jackson noticed so many things—the way her lips trembled, the new tautness in her shoulders, her pallor and shallow breaths.

“Trace,” he said low. “Back off, will you?” Sure, she needed to be sheltered, but scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Trace narrowed his eyes and cupped Alani’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, honey. This is just a precaution.”

She swallowed hard and averted her gaze from one and all. “I told him I was thinking of seeing…someone else.”

Dare put his elbows on his knees. “You mentioned Jackson to him?”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “That would have been needlessly rude.”

Since Alani was the epitome of graciousness, Trace accepted that explanation. “Did anyone know you were coming to see Jackson yesterday?”

“Jackson knew.”

Doing a double take, Jackson asked, “I did?”

“I called you.” Her sad smile came and went. “But I suppose you’ve forgotten that, too. I called you before leaving work.”

“Anyone overhear that call?” Dare asked.

“I was in my office, so I doubt it.” And then, head high and shoulders back, she turned to leave the room. “I’m going to put on coffee.”

“Alani…” Knowing the idea of danger had shaken her, Jackson started to stand.

“No.” She stopped him by raising an imperious hand. She pointed a finger at the food she’d brought him and gave a succinct order. “Eat.”

No one gave him orders.

Jackson considered her. She’d left her rich boyfriend in the dust. She’d freely defended him to her brother.

She’d slept with him, whether he remembered it or not.

Overall, he was pretty damn happy with her, so he gave her a salute. “Yes, darlin’. Whatever you say.”

CHAPTER THREE

IN THE KITCHEN, Alani turned on the radio. Loud.

Accommodating them? Or tuning them out?

Didn’t matter. Jackson sat forward. “Let me blow this up your skirt— I’ve met the bastard.”

Dare raised a brow. “Her boyfriend?”

“Her ex-boyfriend. And yeah. He knows me, knows my face and first name.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Jackson flagged a hand. “I was chasing her, nothing new in that.”

Trace snarled. “And you met him?”

“Yeah. Unless he’s dumber than I think, he felt the chemistry between Alani and me.” Jackson challenged Trace. “It’s there and you know it.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Trace turned to Dare. “Jackson’s been dogging her heels for a while now.”

Dare looked between them. “You knew about this?”

“Yeah.” Letting out a breath, Trace rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew.”

“Wasn’t a secret,” Jackson said. “I told him. But shit’s different now.”

Deadpan, Dare asked, “You think so?”

Everyone kept their voices low.

“Hell, I was just hoping to get her to redo my place for me so I could get closer to her.” Jackson ignored Dare’s raised brows and Trace’s annoyance. “But that didn’t work out, and I figured I was back to square one, and now—”

Trace cut him off. “Jackson was keeping tabs on her, too.”

That sounded bad, so Jackson explained. “With what she’s been through, I didn’t want the financier to do anything to make her uncomfortable.”

“Like chase her?” Dare asked.

The taunt put Jackson on edge. “Like pressuring her. And you can bet he did.” Could the financier have pressured her more than Jackson had just minutes ago? Shit.

“Why do you assume so?” Dare asked.

“Look at her!” This time Jackson thrust his hand toward the kitchen where, hopefully, Alani couldn’t hear them. “She’s so smokin’ hot, most guys wouldn’t be able to help themselves.”

Dare choked. “She’s the smaller, more female version of Trace.”

What an appalling thought. “Not even close,” Jackson denied. “You see her like a kid sister, same as Trace does.” Sure, they had the same coloring of pale hair and bright hazel eyes. That combo might be noticeable on Trace, but on Alani it was outright striking, fascinating every guy who met her. “I see her differently.”

Trace rolled his eyes. “But still you’re noble enough to give her space?”

“Uh…” He’d thought so. When she’d hesitated to be alone with him, shying away from his interest, he’d walked away rather than torture himself. But this morning he had awakened with her naked. And since then, knowing she’d wanted him enough to sleep with him, he’d been on the make big-time.

Trace and Dare waited.

Disgust at his heavy-handed tactics hit Jackson like a ton of bricks. “Butt out, damn it.”

“I should just kill you now and be done with it,” Trace grumbled.

Jackson ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, maybe.”

Dare coughed at that admission. “You trust him, Trace, and you know it.”

“With my back,” Trace snapped. “Not with my sister.”

Shaking his head at them both, Dare said, “Tell me about the meeting you had with the financier.”

“His name is Marc Tobin,” Trace said.

Jackson curled his lip. Even the guy’s name annoyed him. “I dropped in on her, but she was due for a date with the idiot, and I didn’t bow out in time.”

“Probably on purpose,” Trace accused.

Jackson shrugged. So he’d lingered. So what? “He showed up, and you know Alani. Always so polite.”

Dare choked. “She introduced the two of you?”

To Jackson’s mind, Dare’s humor was sadly misplaced. He gave one sharp nod. “Yeah.”

“Did you act like an ass?” Trace asked.

“You mean did I pulverize him? Nah.” But he’d wanted to. “I’m sure I mean-mugged him a little. He’s just so…slick, it was hard not to, you know?”

It surprised Jackson when Trace agreed. “Slick, and too rich.”

“You’re rich,” Jackson reminded him.

Dare reached over to slug him in the shoulder. “Take what you can get, will you?”

He had planned to take Alani—again and again. But now…did she need extended time? Lots of space? God, he hoped not.

He peered into the kitchen and saw her stacking mugs on a tray. His guts twisted. Yeah, he had it bad. No other woman had ever made him feel this way. He didn’t like it.

Having her would be the only cure. Or rather…having her again so he could commit the experience to memory.

“What now?” Ensuring Dare and Trace didn’t misunderstand the situation, Jackson added, “She can’t be alone.”

“I agree.” Dare rubbed his chin. “You did a background check on Tobin?”

“From the get-go.” Trace leaned up against the wall. “Decent enough person, I guess. Privileged, but no criminal record beyond a few speeding tickets.”

Jackson didn’t like that assessment. “Every investment he makes turns to gold. I don’t trust him.”

“She left him,” Dare reminded Jackson. And then, “But if he assumes he was dumped for you, then that could be motive enough for us to do a little more digging.”

“It makes as much sense as anything.” Besides, with nothing else to go on, Jackson wanted Tobin to be responsible. It’d be a quick and easy solution, and it’d permanently remove the competition.

“You think he sent a woman after Jackson, had her drug him…for what reason? To get him in bed so that Alani would walk away?” Trace gave Jackson a verbal kick, saying, “Hell, he always screws everything in sight, and still she went to him.”

Jackson stewed. “Wrong.” He was no more active than any other healthy adult. And since meeting Alani…well, he hadn’t been all that healthy, no matter how a woman looked or how willing she might be.

He wanted Alani.

He’d had her, damn it, and from what she’d said, it was as mind-blowing as he’d always known it would be.

“You know how it is, Trace.” Dare ignored Jackson’s denial. “That just makes him more appealing to some women.”

“Maybe.” Trace gave Jackson an evil grin. “But not to Alani.”

Knowing Trace might be right, Jackson picked up the sandwich and took a healthy bite. She wanted him to eat, so he’d eat.

Done tweaking him, Trace paced. “Doesn’t matter now anyway. Whoever drugged him likely saw Alani at his place.”

“So she’s in the thick of it,” Dare agreed, “no matter how we look at it.”

Around the mouthful of food, Jackson said, “I don’t want to scare her, especially since odds are she’s in the clear.” He swallowed, a plan forming in his mind. “If she lets me stick close, then there’s no reason her life has to be more disrupted than it already has been.”

“You can watch her up close,” Dare said, “while Trace and I start investigating things from the outside.”

“And that being the case, you should have called us right away.” Trace’s temper shot up again. “Christ, was she left alone at any point today?”

Jackson winced. “All morning.” Alone, saddened—and vulnerable. There really wasn’t a good excuse for slipping up, not with Alani’s safety on the line. “Thanks to the drugs, I wasn’t thinking clearly at first. All I knew was that I’d missed out on—” he looked at Trace’s set face and censored his words “—some important stuff. Soon as I could, I got ready and came here. Right about the time my head cleared enough for me to realize all the implications, she showed back up.”

“And still you didn’t get hold of us?”

“Yeah, about that…” Jackson hedged a little. “I was going to—right after I smoothed things out with Alani.”

That got Trace’s attention anew. “What’s there to smooth out?”

Another peek in the kitchen showed Alani standing in front of the sink, her arms around her middle as she stared out the window.

As if she felt his stare, she glanced over her shoulder. Their gazes locked, and for him, it felt like a physical connection. Even from a distance, he saw her breathing deepen, her cheeks flush, the slight part of her lush lips, so maybe it felt the same for her.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed—and Alani turned away to fetch the now full coffee carafe.

A deep breath didn’t really help. She rattled him when nothing else did.

“Okay, look.” Jackson squared off with both men. “Under normal circumstances, I would never discuss this with anyone, not even you two.”

Discussing it with them now didn’t feel right, either, but with Alani’s safety potentially at risk, they had to know it all. Trace was right about that.

“I told you that I woke with a splitting headache, that I spent the first hour in the bathroom puking up my guts.”

They waited.

“Yeah, well…” Never, not even if he lived to be a hundred, would Jackson forget that awesome moment when he found her curled comfortably in bed beside him, just as he’d never forget the devastation on her face right before she walked out. “You know as well as I do that Alani’s been sheltered. Not sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t what she got. She…sort of misunderstood everything.”

Confusion brought together Dare’s brows. “You explained to her what happened?”

“Not then, no. Hell, I didn’t know what had happened.” Giving himself a second to organize his thoughts, Jackson took a big drink of the cola. He could use the caffeine kick. “The thing is, my head felt like it had cracked open, and Alani was there, naked.” He filled his lungs again, but the tightness in his chest remained. “Those two things together threw me pretty hard. I didn’t know which way was up, but I didn’t need my brains intact to know I’d probably slept with her. I just didn’t know what to do about it.”

Trace stared up at the ceiling.

“Stop it, will you?” Dare shoved him. “She’s a grown woman.”

Jackson nodded. Alani was young but still mature. The perfect mix of naiveté and ripe sensuality. Independent and yet so incredibly sweet…

Problem was, Trace had been playing protector too long. His attention zeroed in on Jackson. “I don’t know if I want you seeing her.”

In clear warning, Jackson said, “Stay out of it, Trace.” No way in hell would he let him get in his way on this.

Trace took a stance and smiled silkily. “Or what?”

“Or you’ll deal with me.” Alani marched back into the room with a tray of coffee that she set on the table. She appeared resolute and too contained.

Jackson started to stand, but with one hand on his chest, Alani shoved him back to his seat. Surprise kept him from reacting.

Hands on her hips, she faced her brother. “I’ll see him if I want to.”

Jackson met Trace’s furious gaze—and shrugged. Guess that was settled. Her attitude would make protecting her a lot easier, and it would afford him a lot more opportunities to work through the morass of his feelings.

Dare shook his head. “Stop looking so satisfied, Jackson, or he just might kill you.”

“No,” Alani said as she sat beside Jackson. “He won’t.”

Though Trace’s left eye twitched again, he didn’t lurch toward Jackson. Trace was far too controlled for any lurching. If he wanted to attack Jackson, he would do so swiftly, without warning.

But Jackson wasn’t worried about it. Trace might bluster, but he wanted the best for Alani, and right now, that meant having someone capable watching over her 24/7 until they sorted out what had happened.

It couldn’t be Trace or Dare. Not only were they both now married, but their constant presence would only alarm Alani more. There’d be no explaining it to her without telling her how risky the situation could be.

So Jackson got dibs, and that suited him just fine.

Trace ran a hand through his hair. “Alani, seriously… Are you sure about this?”

Far too solemn, she eyed her brother and Dare. “I’d appreciate it if you two would drink your coffee and then go so that Jackson and I can talk.”

Her announcement hit them each in a different way.

Not about to budge, Trace snorted.

Dare merely said, “No can do, hon.”

And Jackson put his arm around her. “We gotta make plans first.”

“I have a plan.” Spine straight, shoulders stiff, she shrugged off his touch. “I’m going to finish discussing this with you, then you will leave so that I can take a long shower and go to bed early.”

Jackson opened his mouth, and she said with emphasis, “Alone.”

Damn. She sounded cold and distant. Had she overheard them talking? They’d kept their voices low, but in her small house, even with the radio blaring from the kitchen, she might have picked up a word or two. Well, she’d just have to deal with it. But to be sure, Jackson asked, “What’s wrong?”

Not only did Alani give him an incredulous look, so did Dare and Trace.

At the end of his rope, Jackson stood and took her hand. “Be right back.” He started tugging Alani toward the kitchen.

She held back. “Jackson.”

On the ragged edge, he leaned down to nearly touch his nose to hers. “Here or in private, woman. Make up your mind.”

Trace took a step forward—and that decided her. She said to her brother and Dare, “Drink your coffee! We won’t be long.”

And then it was Alani leading the way.

Once in the kitchen, Jackson stepped around the wall with her for a smidge of privacy. He caged her in with his forearms on the wall at either side of her head.

Staring up at him, she looked small and fragile and very appealing.

He had to taste her.

Murmuring, “I missed you,” he kissed her bottom lip, her upper lip, and then he settled in for a soft but deep mating of their mouths.

Her breasts pressed to his ribs, her hands flattening on his chest before sliding up to his shoulders. With a small sound of hunger, she curled her fingers, holding on to him.

Yeah, he liked that. A lot.

He felt her racing breath, her trembling….

“God, woman.” With an effort, he freed her mouth but had to return for several more soft, quick pecks. “I don’t want to rush you.”

She dropped her forehead to his chest with a small, dubious laugh. “Funny, because all you do is rush me.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.” He nudged up her face. “What’s wrong? Besides all that confusion from this morning, I mean. You went into the kitchen one way and came back another. What did you think about in here?”

“Everything.”

That didn’t sound promising. “Start with one thing, and we’ll get to the others.”

“Okay.” She smoothed a hand over his chest, inadvertently inciting his lust; when Alani touched him, he felt it everywhere. “You want to go on like yesterday happened.”

No woman had ever left him this confused. And horny. At the moment mostly confused. No, mostly…it didn’t matter. “Yesterday did happen.”

“But you don’t remember it.” Her eyes full of entreaty with an edge of uncertainty, she gazed up at him. “I want to be honest with you.”

“Honesty is good.” Because he honestly knew that she wanted him, too.

“It’s disturbing that I can’t think of anything else, but you can’t even remember it.” She looked down at his sternum, and her voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I still feel you, Jackson.”

A bombardment of emotions took his breath. “Yeah?”

“I’m tender in places that I’ve never noticed before.”

Ah, hell. Hearing that stirred him anew. He nuzzled her ear. “Like where?”

“You know where.”

His muscles clenched. In a near growl, he insisted, “Tell me anyway.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “My thighs are shaky.”

“I was rough with you?”

“No. You…you were exuberant.”

Heat rose inside him. “Where else?”

Voice lower, filled with shyness, she admitted, “My breasts still feel full, and my…”

He bent to see her face. “Nipples?” Just talking to her was more exciting than sex with other women. He badly wanted to cover her breasts with his hands, to touch her, to draw her into his mouth and test how tender she might be.

Tilting back from her, he looked at the soft white swells above the top of her sundress. Putting a tight leash on his need, he trailed one fingertip over the top of each breast.

With her accelerated breaths, her flesh shimmered.

Slowly, with hot intent, he drifted his open hand over the front of the dress, cupped her right breast and gently circled the taut nipple with his thumb.

She gasped; her hands clutched at him.

His gaze sought hers. “They’re sensitive?”

Long lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath through parted lips. “Very.”

It’d be so easy to take her. Hell, even with her brother and Dare in the other room, she melted for him. He could put his hand up the skirt of her dress, inside her panties. He could cup that warm, wet peach, and she’d be coming in minutes.

Jackson fought himself. She trusted him. And she’d been through enough.

He couldn’t stop himself from catching her nipple, giving one small tug that made her tremble and bite her bottom lip. “Jackson…”

“I know.” He slipped his arms around her, easing her closer so that her head fit to his shoulder and her breasts pressed to his chest. He was so turned on, his dick threatened to rip apart the zipper of his jeans. “Better?”

The sound she made affected him like a hot lick. “I’ve never been this way. Last night was a revelation for me.” Her hands knotted in his shirt. “And you don’t even know what happened.”

“I know I’m going to have you again. I know I’m going to be inside you, feeling you all nice and wet, slick and hot, and you’re going to hold on to me while you come—”

To silence him, she touched his mouth, then took a few seconds to collect herself. “For you, what we did, what happened between us, might not even be real.”

Oh, it was real all right. He took her wrist, kissed her palm and carried her hand back to his chest. “You can’t deny what’s between us.”

“No, I won’t. But we both know that sometimes sex talk doesn’t mean anything.” She pushed back to look at him. “Men say things in the moment just because they want to sleep with a woman.”

Waiting for a response to that death-trap statement, she watched him.

What the hell had he said to her last night?

He chewed the side of his mouth but gave up with a shrug. “Sometimes, yeah, maybe.”

She looked down at her hands. “When they think sex is of utmost importance.”

“That covers every minute that I’m around you, because when I see you, I want to be inside you.”

“Jackson…”

“I’m obsessed,” he admitted and meant it. If he just wanted sex, he could have it. He hadn’t lacked for female attention since his late teens. Hell, if he wanted an orgy he could have it.

But he wanted Alani.

“Don’t you see?” Not giving him a chance to muck it up with more drama, she went on. “Maybe if you knew the things you’d said, if you…remembered everything we’d done, you wouldn’t even care about…”

“Having you again?” He tunneled his fingers into her baby fine hair, curving his hands around her head, lifting her face so he could see into her eyes. “Not a chance in hell, honey. Having you a dozen times wouldn’t put a dent in my appetite. Not for you.”

The corners of her mouth quivered into an uncertain show of amusement. “Well, you sound confident enough about that, but I’m not.” She licked the smile away from her lips. “So… I think we should start over.”

The groan was there, fighting to come out, but Jackson swallowed it back and tried not to look predatory. “Start over…where?” If she meant all the way back to square one, he’d get her alone ASAP and show her that once wasn’t enough, not for either of them, and to hell with what her brother and Dare thought about it.

She toyed with the front of his shirt, smoothing it and stroking him again in the bargain. His muscles twitched.

So did his cock.

His heart followed suit when she looked up at him with her big golden eyes. “I’m sorry, Jackson, but I can’t jump back into bed with you.”

That did it. He groaned.

“I can’t.” In a rush, she explained, “Not when you don’t remember how we got there.”

But he wanted to know. He wanted the memory of how she looked, the sounds she made at every small surrender, he wanted to watch her get hotter and hotter until she lost it, until she screamed out a climax. So… “We have to get there again? That’s what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

Huh. Well, that might be fun. He loved a challenge, and knowing he’d already won her over would make it easier. As long as she gave him an opportunity, as long as Tobin remained out of the picture, he didn’t mind charming her anew.

Needing clarification, he held her face tipped up to his. “I need to make up one day, not the past months, right?”

Nodding, she looked at his throat, his chin, and her other hand lifted to touch him, too. “I woke up this morning already wanting you, and I haven’t stopped wanting you since.”

A full-blown boner made idle conversation tough. Trying to relieve the pressure in his jeans, he shifted, but nothing short of touching her would help. He leaned into her, letting her feel his erection and affording himself a modicum of relief against her soft body.

He growled low and kissed her throat. “I can work with that.”

“It’s not too much to ask?”

“Nah.” To stay on course, he’d have to take the edge off, and soon. Tricky, given that he had no intentions of leaving her side. But he’d figure it out. “Be warned, woman, I’m going to enjoy getting you there again.”

From the other room, Trace said, “Jackson, I will kill you.”

Alani flushed. “Ohmigod.” And in a panicked whisper, “Has he been listening to us?”

By the minute, Jackson felt more like himself, so he couldn’t help but grin, especially with Alani turning so pink. “He can’t hear anything.” He smoothed her hair, touched her warm cheek. “He’s just guessing at what’s going on.”

She groaned. “That’s worse.”

Maybe. Since Trace knew Jackson, he probably had a good idea of things. A little louder, so Trace was sure to hear, he said, “It’s none of his damned business.”

She surprised Jackson by smothering a laugh. “Surely you don’t think that will stop him?”

“Probably not.” He knew what he was in for. But what she apparently didn’t know was that, because Trace was overprotective, he would never be satisfied seeing his sister with a man who wasn’t his equal.

Jackson fit the bill.

And despite all the bluster, Trace wasn’t blind; he knew Alani was a grown woman, able to make her own decisions.

Right now, she was safer with Jackson than without him.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, what else?”

She bit her lip, and shook her head.

“You said there were other things bothering you.”

“I know.” She slipped her arms around him in a brief hug that he felt clean to his soul. “But we’ve been in here too long already. We’ll talk about the rest later, when we don’t have an interested audience waiting on us.”

As if on cue, Trace said, “I’m counting to ten.”

Enjoying the contact of their mingling heartbeats, how right and natural it seemed, Jackson said, “Ignore him.”

“You’re not worried about his reaction to all this?”

He snorted. “Nah. Why would I be?”

After giving him a squeeze, she leaned away with a smile. “God, Jackson. What am I going to do with you?”

“That’s the fun part, honey. As long as you’re not pushing me away, you can do anything you want.”

CHAPTER FOUR

WALKING BACK IN to face her brother and Dare was nearly painful. They weren’t exactly condemning her, but Dare watched her with that quiet scrutiny that was so much a part of him, now sharpened with curiosity, too.

Had Dare ever seen her as a sexual being? Probably not. She hadn’t even seen herself that way, especially not since the kidnapping to Tijuana. That, more than any other reason, had accounted for her problems with Marc. He wanted what she couldn’t give…or rather, what she couldn’t give until Jackson, until last night, until she’d discovered her own carnal nature.

Her brother…well, in any other circumstance, she would find Trace’s behavior amusing. It wasn’t often that she got to see him disconcerted. Even before their parents had died, he’d been an Alpha male in every way, taking charge of everything and everyone, always cool, always a rock.

But now, with the realization that her nightmare could be starting all over again, humor remained well out of Alani’s reach.

As Jackson sat down, he brought her with him, ensuring she stayed close to his side. His hold was comforting but also intrinsically possessive.

Did it mean anything?

Giving him a subtle nudge with her elbow, she complained in an aside, “I’d prefer a little more discretion, please.”

He kissed her ear. “Sorry.” He loosened his hold, but didn’t let her go completely.

And she was glad.

Dare and Trace watched their every move. Never had she envisioned her private life being made so public. Jackson didn’t seem to mind, but she couldn’t bear it.

“This is ridiculous.” She wanted them both to leave so she could put Jackson back to bed—to sleep. He needed to recoup after his ordeal, and she wanted to be the one to take care of him. Usually he was so capable, so strong. This might be her only chance, her only excuse for keeping him close.

With all three men underfoot, she couldn’t get her emotions in check. The dual assault of wanting Jackson again so badly, juxtaposed against the thrumming fear of danger, left her more flustered than usual.

She tried a direct look that came off weak at best. “If you two have finished your coffee…?”

Dare half smiled at her obvious hint and lifted his cup for another sip.

Trace hadn’t bothered with coffee. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you kicking out all of us, or just Dare and me?”

Short of admitting that she wanted to take advantage of Jackson’s predicament, what could she do other than protest? “You’re overstepping, Trace.”

“Not the first time.”

She stared at him, and he relented enough to say, “Until we sort this out, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone.”

Jackson ran his fingertips down her spine. “Put your brother’s mind at ease, honey. Tell him I can stick around for the night.”

For the night? Oh, for pity’s sake. Sure, she realized that she might have stumbled into things, but they were stretching it. Rather than admit that she wanted Jackson to stay, she said, “I promise I will be extra careful.”

“Not good enough.” Dare set aside his coffee. “You don’t have the right skills to recognize a possible problem.”

Her smile hurt. “Believe me, being kidnapped more than drove home that point for me.” At her self-deprecating tone, each of them froze with uncertainty. It was almost amusing, given how big and skilled and dangerous they could be.

Knowing the way they thought, she continued, “It makes no sense that anyone would want to hurt me. Jackson was the one drugged.” She held up a hand. “But yes, I realize that if that woman had anything to do with him being drugged, then she saw my face and she heard Jackson call me by name.”

“It’s a long shot,” Jackson told her. “But why take any chances?”

Trace moved to stand over her. “It’s also possible someone knew you would be at his place, and that’s why Jackson got drugged in the first place.”

Dear God. She hadn’t even considered that. Had he been drugged so that someone could get to her? Had she inadvertently put Jackson in danger? Thinking aloud, she said, “I called him from my cell—”

Trace asked, “Not your office phone?”

“No.”

Dare stood. “Where is it?”

“My purse.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “In there.”

Dare left the room to get it.

Jackson had been too quiet. She glanced at him, and got caught in his intent stare.

Overly gentle, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to worry, Alani. No one is going to hurt you.”

Because people had already hurt her, an invisible fist squeezed her lungs. It took so little to alarm her.

Nothing really new in that. Since escaping Tijuana, she hadn’t really stopped being afraid. Sometimes she hid it well, and sometimes…sometimes it woke her in the middle of the night, a scream burning her throat, her face wet with tears.

Swallowing down the shame of cowardice, she nodded. “I know.” And then, hopefully with more strength, “So what now?”

Trace and Jackson shared a look. Jackson took her hand. “For about a dozen or more reasons, I’m hoping you’ll let me hang around. If Trace wasn’t leg-shackled—”

“Leg-shackled?” Sidetracked, Alani gave a laugh that sounded far too forced. “Priss would get you for that.”

Jackson showed his teeth in a wicked grin. “Yeah, she’d probably try.” He quickly held up a hand toward her brother. “Don’t hit me, Trace. I’m not a hundred percent, so it wouldn’t be fair. Besides, you know Priss is always on the fence about whether or not she likes me.”

Trace sawed his teeth together. “Shut up about it.”

Under most situations, her brother was the personification of icy calm.

When it came to his wife, Priscilla…not so much.

But then, given that Jackson, in the course of a rescue from intruders, had taken Priss naked from the shower, Alani understood why it nettled Trace.

After a tense silence, her brother reined in his anger to address her. “Do you have any appointments you need to cancel?”

Avoiding a direct answer, she said, “I usually work every day.” She couldn’t help but resist the idea of having her life turned upside down again.

Jackson turned her toward him. “You can still keep your appointments, but how about I tag along? Just as an extra precaution.”

“But…” Okay, she got the need for vigilance. But would it never end?

Dare strode back in, still holding Alani’s phone. “Do you need to jot down any of your saved numbers before I turn it off?”

“Why would you—”

“Cells can be traced. For now, Jackson can set you up with a prepay. Use it if you have to make a call. Otherwise, just use your landline.”

“For now,” Trace reiterated. “Just till we rule out a few things.”

Alani wilted. Surely they were overreacting. But the last thing she wanted was for any of them to know how cowardly she felt about it all. “I know the numbers I call often, and customer numbers are in my files.”

Trace walked over to stand in front of her, then held out a hand. “My turn.”

Ripe with mistrust, Jackson caught her arm to detain her. “Your turn for what?”

Good Lord, Jackson sounded confrontational. He might not worry about Trace’s temper, and she trusted that he could fend for himself, but a physical confrontation between the two of them would be too ugly to contemplate.

She slipped away from Jackson and stood by her brother. “Be right back,” she started to say, but Trace was already tugging her away.

He urged her all the way across the floor and out the back door to the patio. Through the kitchen window she could see Jackson craning his neck to look after them, his expression dark, dangerous.

Did he think Trace would steal her away? From her own home? He was every bit as protective as her brother, and, unsure how she felt about that, she sighed.

“I think I’m going to puke,” Trace said.

Alani slugged Trace in the shoulder—and probably hurt her hand a lot more than she hurt him. “You like Jackson, so stop it.”

“I like his work. I don’t like this situation, and I sure as hell don’t like seeing you so lovesick.”

Her knees locked. “Lovesick?”

Trace stared at her, then turned away to grouse before facing her again. “You are in love with him, aren’t you?”

Well, shoot. She dampened dry lips. “I never said—”

“You don’t have to. I know you, Alani. I can see it.” His expression softened. “Dare probably sees it, too.”

That thought horrified her. “Do you think—”

“That Jackson knows?” He shook his head. “Not unless you told him. Women always screw up a guy’s intuition. You’ve got him spinning on his ass right now. If he hadn’t been drugged, I might actually find it funny.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jackson seemed as in control as ever.

“Trust me, figuring out women is more of a challenge than facing off with a lunatic murderer.”

Lovely. With false sweetness, Alani asked, “I suppose sisters are excluded from that analogy?”

“It’s not at all the same.” He cupped a hand over her shoulder and only hesitated a second before getting serious. “It’s not going to be easy, you know.”

She gave another long sigh. “I know.”

“Jackson is…”

“Too much like you?” At his surprise, Alani shook her head. “And Dare, too. But I mean that in the nicest way possible.”

He gave a fleeting smile before tousling her hair. “Brat.” He quickly sobered. “Our line of work complicates relationships in a big way.”

“There is that.”

“He could be gone long stretches of time when he’s on a case.”

So Jackson was right—Trace was more accepting of their involvement than she’d realized. “I know.”

“And you know you’ll worry.”

She nodded. “But you’re my brother, Trace, so I’m already used to that.” There were times when Trace would be gone for weeks—but during those times, he left Dare available to her for emergencies. And always, Alani knew he’d give up a mission if she needed him.

“It’ll be different, honey. Believe me.”

“Probably.” She’d often wondered how Priss and Molly handled it. It was tough enough fretting over a brother, but the added intimacy of a romantic relationship would sharpen everything. That is… “I don’t even know yet if it’ll be an issue.” Because she didn’t know how Jackson really felt about her. “Everything is pretty up in the air right now.”

The confessions he’d made last night no longer counted.

“You’ll give him a chance to clear up the problems?”

“If you mean will I let him stick around, yes.” She’d wanted to do that anyway, and this was as good an excuse as any.

Trace took in her expression with dark concern. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Not really, no.” She flashed him a smile. “Do you think Priss knew?”

At the mention of his wife, Trace scowled and rubbed his ear. “Probably.” He dropped his hand and laughed. “At least, more than I did, because she always seemed to be a step ahead of me.”

Alani had probably gotten the censored version of their story, but she knew they’d both gone undercover at the same time, after the same person, and each had a specific agenda that didn’t always mesh with the other’s. Along the way, Priss had turned her control-freak brother upside down.

Spinning on his ass?

Yes, that aptly described it. “And what about Molly?”

His humor faded. “No. After all she’d been through, Molly was badly shaken. She was always practical, but at a loss how to get on with her life.”

Alani remembered it well; she and Molly were both taken by the same people. They’d shared the same small, cramped confinement with other women. Stuffy air, chains, filth, fear and desolation…

Whereas she’d been too terrified to breathe, Molly had been brazen, arguing with their captors, defying them at every turn. To this day, it made Alani shudder to think of it. “She was so brave.”

Probably knowing she drew unfavorable comparisons, Trace pulled her into a tight hug. “Molly handled it differently from you, that’s all. And Dare always knows what he’s doing, so he helped her work it out.”

Alani didn’t want to think about the awful kidnapping or the new danger presenting itself, so instead she concentrated on Jackson. “I don’t know where things will go from here, but I’m not dumb.” Not anymore. Last night…temporary insanity? That excuse worked for her. “I don’t want you to worry about me. Jackson would never hurt me physically, and I’m the only one responsible for my emotions.”

Trace kissed the top of her head. “All right. But if at any point you want me to stomp him, let me know.”

He said that with relish, helping to lighten her mood. “He’s not a slouch, you know. He might surprise you.”

“Nope. I already know Jackson can handle himself. If not, he wouldn’t be working with Dare and me, and no way in hell would I rely on him to keep you safe.”

She skipped over the issue of her safety to say, “So you admit he’s a lot like you?”

Slinging an arm around her shoulders, Trace said, “Why do you think I’m so worried?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he led her back into the house.

Alani hoped the discussions were now at an end so she could see to Jackson.

WITH THE OTHERS out of the room, Dare spent his time eyeballing Jackson, irking him until Jackson stopped watching for Alani and instead barked, “What?”

Dare nodded at his crotch. “You really ought to get that under control.”

Jackson looked down, saw he still had an obvious jones, and cursed. “It’s a unique situation.” Alani was a unique woman. He dropped a throw pillow over his lap. “Can’t you drag Trace out of here?”

“Doubtful, but I’m not even going to try. At least, not until we have things settled.”

Through his teeth, Jackson said, “You guys are making her more nervous than she needs to be. I can handle it.”

Dare gave him a long, sober look. “Why do I doubt that you’re thinking straight?”

“My brains aren’t in my dick, damn it.” Sure, lust left him tense. But Alani’s safety would always be his number one priority. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

Unfazed, Dare shrugged. “Trace is her brother. I’m a pseudo-brother. Until we know what’s happening, no one is budging.” And then, as Trace and Alani walked back in, Dare stood, too. “All done?”

Alani said, “Yes,” and started to sit by Jackson again.

He was just reaching for her when Dare caught her elbow. “Great. Now it’s my turn.”

Frustration pushed Jackson over the edge. He shot to his feet. “This is bullshit!” He did not want Dare and Trace filling her head with reasons to run from him. “Let’s roll credits on the drama already.”

At his raised voice, Trace’s muscles bunched up. “Watch your mouth in front of my sister.”

“She’s not a damn china doll.”

Alani started to speak, but Trace didn’t give her a chance. “You’ll treat her with respect.”

Jackson stiffened. He wasn’t going to explain himself to her brother. What was between them was private—and he wanted to get back to it, damn it. But he wouldn’t keep putting up with Trace’s animosity, either. “You think I don’t?”

Dare tugged Alani along. “Let’s leave them to it, hon, okay?”

And Alani, left with little choice in the matter, again walked away.

“This is insane.” Jackson dropped back down on the couch and glared at Trace. “You two will wear her out with all this covert chitchat, back-and-forth nonsense.”

“You’ll both survive.”

Jackson wasn’t at all sure about that. If they talked Alani into keeping her distance from him, he’d detonate. Trying to hide his tension, Jackson said more calmly, “What the hell did you say to her, anyway? And why couldn’t you say it right here in the comfort of her living room?”

Pensive, silent, Trace leaned against the wall.

Jackson stewed until he couldn’t hold it in. “And what the hell does Dare have to do with anything? He’s not even her damn brother.”

Eyes narrowing, Trace suffered him in silence.

With nothing more to do, and Trace being a bore, Jackson poured himself another cup of coffee.

He had just taken a sip when Trace said, “I assume you haven’t told her everything.”

What the hell could he tell her when he didn’t remember even a smidge of the night? “What’s that?”

Pushing away from the wall, Trace stood beside the chair Dare had vacated. “There are things about you, Jackson, added responsibilities that Alani’s unaware of. Or have you told her about Arizona?” Oh. That. Shit. “Not yet, no.”

“I didn’t think so.”

As always when discussing Arizona, heat crawled up his neck. Half under his breath, Jackson said, “Haven’t really had much chance for talking, not with you two hanging around, making her think the world is coming to an end.” And besides, what woman would understand about Arizona? He sure as hell didn’t want to shoot himself in the foot this early.

“If that’s your way of saying I’m overreacting, Alani is used to my idea of caution. She’d think something more was wrong if I acted any other way.”

Maybe he had a point. “If you say so.”

“Tell her about Arizona, or I will.”

That challenge couldn’t go unanswered. Jackson set the cup down with a clatter. “It’s my business, Trace.” And besides, Trace might think he knew everything about it, but he didn’t. Not by a long shot.

“When you’re sleeping with my sister, it becomes my business.”

Jackson locked his back teeth, but he’d never taken well to ultimatums. “Arizona has nothing to do with her.”

“If you care about her, then Arizona has plenty to do with her.” Trace crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance. “And if you don’t care, then I’m telling you right now, leave her the hell alone.”

HEARING RAISED VOICES in the living room left Alani uneasy. She tried to rush back in, but Dare didn’t let her.

He caught one of her hands in both of his. “Relax, honey. They’re fine.”

Didn’t sound fine to her. She chewed her bottom lip. “I think they’re arguing.”

Dare shrugged. “So? They’re both reasonable enough. They won’t come to blows.”

If only she had his confidence. She knew that when it came to her, Trace could be more than unreasonable. “All right, but let’s make this quick.” She tried to give Dare her attention, when truthfully, she strained to hear what her brother and Jackson were saying.

“You know I think of you as a little sister.”

“Yes.” And she thought of him as another brother. Dare and Trace had known each other for a very long time. After the death of their parents, Dare had been there, helping them both to cope. He’d been there through all the most important steps in their lives.

She flinched at a particularly loud curse from Jackson.

Insistent on getting her attention, Dare brought her face around to his. “I’m sorry to do this, but Jackson is slammed, and Trace just isn’t himself, so it looks like it’s up to me.”

Given the seriousness of his tone, Alani almost groaned. “Do I really want to hear this?”

“I brought you out here because I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it?” Already her faux pas—sleeping with a drugged man unaware of his own actions—had been aired to the people closest to her. “All things considered, I don’t know how I could be any more embarrassed.”

Apologetic, Dare asked, “Did you guys use protection?”

Shock took her back a step. Obviously she hadn’t even seen the start of embarrassment yet.

Protection? She wanted to groan. “I…” Had they? That first time, yes. Her face heated as she remembered watching Jackson intently roll on a condom. But after that?

Dropping his head forward, Dare muttered to himself. “Don’t tell me. It’s none of my damn business. But with Jackson drugged, he might not have been thinking right.” His probing gaze held hers. “That’s the point of a roofie, you know. Complete lack of inhibition.”

“I see.” Putting a hand over her mouth, Alani racked her brain. Even after that first time, Jackson had remained insatiable, and they’d both been frenzied… She couldn’t specifically recall the use of condoms.

“I don’t suppose you’re on the pill?”

She shook her head. “No need.” And then she slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. Dare had already absorbed that telling confession.

“Okay then.” Dare rubbed her shoulder. “Without asking for details, I’m guessing—under the right circumstances—you might have been a little too inexperienced to pay attention.”

“The right circumstances?”

He rubbed her shoulder some more. “Getting carried away and all that.”

Her cheeks burned. How could he so easily discuss things so private? Much more of this and she’d be permanently singed. “Things did happen sort of…fast.”

Dare’s mouth quirked. “Not something Jackson would want you to share, hon.”

“I don’t mean…!” More heat flooded into her face, almost making her light-headed. “That is, the decision to…and then again…I sort of forgot….”

“I do understand.” Dare fought off a grin. “But just in case, it’s something the two of you should discuss, don’t you think?”

She covered her face with both hands. “This just keeps going from bad to worse.”

“Don’t jump the gun, okay? Odds are, Jackson took care of it and even if he didn’t, it might not be an issue.”

She hoped not, because after that first time, she’d simply accepted anything and everything he wanted to do, no questions asked.

“But for future reference…” Watching her, Dare said, “I don’t suppose you have any condoms here?”

Why would she? Sure, she’d recently turned twenty-four, and most women that age were sexually active. But after her kidnapping… No. She’d had no real interest.

Until Jackson.

“No. No, I don’t.” Even if she’d wanted to jump back in bed with Jackson, it didn’t sound plausible. What could she do? Suggest he make a drugstore run first? She already knew he wasn’t going to budge from her side, and she definitely wasn’t shopping with him.

Putting her shoulders back, she faced Dare. “Is that it, then?” She wasn’t sure she could handle any more.

He studied her face. “Jackson knows about you being kidnapped.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” She’d first met him when both Trace and Dare were busy, and they’d put Jackson to the task of watching over her—an unnecessary precaution that neither of them seemed inclined to let go anytime soon. But then, they watched over everyone they cared about.

“Does he know details? Because it occurs to me he might be the right one for you to confide in.”

Just the thought of detailing her imprisonment…no. She couldn’t. It left her stomach queasy and her breathing shallow, her heart tripping and her skin cold.

More than anything, she prayed to just forget about it.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Alani sought to stifle her reaction. She drummed up a pathetic smile. “It’s old news, Dare. No reason to rehash it.”

“You know, hon, Molly has told me everything.” He bent to meet her averted eyes. “It’s important to talk about it. I know you’re doing okay now, and I know you’ve moved on. Trace and I are both proud of you.”

Absurd. She’d given neither of them reason to be proud.

“But it stays in here.” With one finger he touched the center of her chest above her breasts. “And here.” He brushed that same fingertip to her temple. “Until you share it.”

“I have shared,” she tried to say with a straight face. “With you and Trace.”

Too astute for his own good, Dare shook his head. “I got you out of there. I understand why talking to me would be too much. And with the way Trace reacted, I know you never wanted to burden him more.”

And it would have been a burden. In some ways, though he hid it well, her abduction had been harder on Trace than on her. “He was so distressed that you had to come after me.”

“He’d have had a hell of a time keeping me away.” Dare cupped the back of her neck, waggling her head in a familiar, friendly way. “But I know what you mean. He wanted to be the one handling things, and if he hadn’t already been known to the bastards who took you, he would have been.”

But since they had known Trace, the odds of him reaching her had been diminished. Sending Dare had upped her chances of being rescued, but had been oh-so-much-more dangerous for Dare.

Alani swallowed. “If I’d been paying better attention that day at the beach—”

“Then you might not have been taken. And God only knows what would have happened to Molly.”

She jerked her head up to stare at him. Solemn, serious, gaze direct, Dare stared back at her.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

He gave one small nod. “No way in hell did I ever want you to go through all that, hon. You know that. But sometimes things happen for a reason. I like to think I was there for you so I could get Molly out, too.”

Her eyes burned. She threw her arms around Dare and squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Dare.” In his simple, caring way, he’d just lightened her burden.

Hugging her right off her feet, Dare kissed the top of her head and said, “Anytime, sweetie.” He levered her back, grinned suddenly and then actually laughed.

A little affronted, Alani frowned at him. “What’s funny?”

“The look on Jackson’s face.”

Oh! She turned—and there Jackson stood, his reddened eyes burning with an excess of emotion, his shoulders bunched, his jaw taut.

Trace stood behind him, his mouth twisted with irony. “I told him to stay put, but he didn’t listen.”

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