Overwhelmed by the warm awareness spreading across her chest, between her thighs, she couldn’t move, couldn’t react.
Slowly he pulled back and ran a thumb over her cheek, a slight smile on his oh-so-kissable lips that only made her want to press her mouth to his again. “I figured if I was going to take the blame for all of this, I should get a few of the benefits, as well,” he said softly. “And kissing you is definitely a bonus.” He slid his hand over hers. “Let’s go see what we’re dealing with to get your purse.” He headed to the stairs with her in tow, and she was still a bit dazed and confused by how easily he’d melted her resolve.
The fact that his hand was big and warm didn’t help matters. Nor did the fact that she couldn’t help but notice his nice tight backside in those faded jeans. The view was good and she was human. And weak, she chided herself.
Shay snapped her attention upward, refusing to look at his nice tight backside one second longer. Instead, she opened her mouth to chide him as she had herself, to say a few precise words that would disconnect her from the wildfire he’d set off inside her. But she couldn’t find even one witty word to keep him away. It had to be the jeans. There was no other explanation. At least, not one she wanted to consider.
Of course, it wasn’t long until she had more to consider than the way Caleb’s jeans fit. They stood by her car, and Caleb inspected the door. “Nice car,” he commented. “I didn’t take you for a silver kind of girl, though. Maybe blue.”
Shay hugged herself. Caleb knew her so well, it was frightening. “Blue was on back order. It was a splurge, and I was afraid I’d talk myself out of it if I waited. Can you open it?”
“Not a chance,” he said without a dash of hesitation. “Not without damage. You got a spare key at home?”
“Spare is at the bottom of Lake Travis,” she said. “It’s not a good story, but Kent and his boat are involved.”
“Ah, yes,” Caleb said. “One of Kent’s boat parties. Always…interesting. I’m surprised he got you out there.”
“I went to pick him up,” she said, telling the story despite her intention not to. “He didn’t want to drive. Said he’d had too many beers. Of course, that ride wasn’t possible since he decided to play football with my keys right by the water.”
“Ouch,” Caleb said. “I can only imagine the hurting you put on him the next morning.”
“I can’t blame him this time, though, can I?”
“Just me,” Caleb reminded her.
“Well, that’s true,” she agreed readily. “But we’ll talk about that later. Right now, I’m worried about my patient arriving and the fact that I can’t get into my office.” She frowned and eyed the dainty diamond watch her parents had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday, one of the only pieces of jewelry she owned. “He should have been here by now. George isn’t the kind of person who shows up late. Not by a minute.” Worry knotted in her chest. “Can I use your phone to call my service?”
He relaxed against the side of his truck, snatched his phone off his belt and handed her a BlackBerry. Shay hesitated before making her call, feeling stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I have to have a phone number where my service can reach me. Can I give them your number until I can swing by a store and pick up a temporary phone?”
“Just keep my phone until tomorrow,” he said. “You can give it back when we meet up at the house to see your parents off. By then, we’ll have your keys, and phone, in hand.”
“What if you need your phone?”
“I’m not a doctor,” he said. “And I don’t mind.”
Reluctantly, she agreed, and a few minutes later, Shay hung up with her answering service and dialed the number they’d given her for George, then updated Caleb. “He didn’t call to cancel. I’m really worried now. He hasn’t shown up, yet he was desperate to reach me. This isn’t like him.”
“Maybe the service screwed up,” Caleb offered. “Lost a call.”
“Maybe,” she said, hoping he was right. George’s phone rang three times before his answering machine picked up. Shay covered the phone. Using Caleb’s phone number for her service and handing out his number to patients were two different things. “Can I leave this number for the patient directly?”
“Anything to help,” he said, and Shay felt a flutter in her stomach. He meant it. Anything. He was that kind of person. Always had been. It wasn’t that he had kissed her or wanted to kiss her again. It was just Caleb.
Shay left a message on George’s phone. “I have a really bad feeling about my patient.” She fisted her hand at her belly. “Right here. A knot. I have his address on my laptop at home. I need to go get that and stop by and check on him.” Then she eyed her car. “Of course, I can’t drive anywhere, and I don’t have keys to get into my house. And the dealership is going to be closed.” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “Great.”
Caleb reached for her and gently pulled her against him. “But you have me.”
“Caleb,” she said, her hands settling on his arms, fully intending to chide him for the intimacy he was creating, but knowing it wouldn’t be convincing even to her own ears. The truth was, this wasn’t the first time Caleb’s quiet strength and cool sensibilities had calmed her frazzled nerves. He had a way of bringing her down a notch, while Kent—bless her brother’s loving heart—had a way of taking her up a notch.
“Your house, I can get into,” Caleb assured her. “And I can take you to pick up a key at the dealership tomorrow, either before or after we go see your parents off. As for going by your patient’s house, it seems smarter to have the police check in.”
She shook her head in rejection. “I can’t do that,” she said. “If nothing is wrong, he’ll feel I’ve betrayed his confidence, invaded his privacy. I’ll lose the ability to help him.”
“Does he live in an apartment?” he asked. “The leasing office could check on him.”
Her brows dipped. “I don’t know, but that’s a great idea. We could…I mean I…” It was so easy to use that word—we. They’d been we many times growing up. Another kiss and suddenly she was questioning if it was okay to use that word.
She stepped away from his arms. “We should go.” We. She’d said we again.
“Yes,” he said softly, holding on to her hand despite her step backward, bringing her hand to his lips. “We should go.” He dropped her hand and held open the door.
Soon they were in the truck together, and Shay felt the crackling awareness that had lived between them for so many years shift and change to a relaxed intimacy. She wasn’t going to kid herself. She wanted him. If he pushed her hard enough—heck, if he pushed her at all—she’d be naked with him in two seconds flat. So she set her resolve on one small goal. Don’t get naked with him tonight. Give him until tomorrow, when she was sure his cold feet would kick in.
7
“THAT TOOK YOU ALL of two minutes.”
“Try two seconds,” Caleb said, pushing to his feet and opening the door of Shay’s house, a redbrick, one-story number, not more than a mile from her office. “Why don’t you have dead bolts?”
“They were supposed to be installed as part of the deal when I bought the place six months ago,” she said. “When they weren’t, I was so excited about finally having my student loans paid off and actually being able to buy a place, that I let it go.” She flipped on the light. “But after seeing how fast you can get in, I’m officially moving dead bolts to the top of my ‘things to do’ list.” Shay motioned him inside.
Caleb followed her, his boots scraping glossy, light-oak hardwood. “A locksmith is expensive,” he said. “I can do what you need to have done. And I’ll make sure I check the whole place for safety. Doors and windows.”
“I’d say you don’t have to do that,” she said, “but I know you. You’ve made up your mind. You’re going to do it.” With a lift of her chin, she indicated the room to her left, a kitchen of rich redwood and gray granite counters. “Plenty of Dr Pepper in the fridge. I’ll j
ust be in the other room looking up that address.” She sashayed her sweet, heart-shaped ass down a short stairwell, leaving him in the midst of a chuckle. He hated Dr Pepper, and she knew it.
Caleb took a step toward the stairs, when his eyes caught on the photo hanging above the rectangular decorative table. He remembered perfectly when the picture was taken. It was “the” day. Shay’s eighteenth birthday. Family and a dozen or so friends had gathered at Shay’s favorite Mexican-food joint to celebrate, and they’d hijacked the waiter to take a picture. Chairs were scooted close, arms draped shoulders, memories were documented.
And there he was, sitting next to Shay, in all her birthday glow, a smile on her lips as she looked at him, not the camera. And he was looking at her, too, oblivious to the rest of the group. The picture said a million words. They were in private conversation; the connection between Shay and him—the attraction—all too evident. It had been one of two big scares with Shay. The other had been at her college graduation dinner, another milestone in her life that had almost turned into another kiss. He hadn’t come home much after that. Even before the kiss they’d shared, he’d known what was between them. And he’d known it was only a matter of time before everyone else would know, too.
After ten years and thousands of miles behind them, that still appeared to be true. But they’d been kids then, young and incapable of maturely handling such circumstances. They weren’t kids anymore.
“Caleb!” Shay called. “You have a phone call.”
With one last glance at the picture, Caleb headed down the stairs to find a living area washed in the same warm feeling that was Shay, with a large, modern-looking stone fireplace as the centerpiece and a plasma TV mounted on the wall above—perfect for the UT football he’d missed too much of the past ten years. The couch was brown, as was the matching chair and ottoman, both decorated with light blue and brown throw pillows. Light blue candles. Brown picture frames. This was a home.
She held out the phone over the marble coffee table, where she’d set her laptop. Caleb didn’t miss the strained look on her face even before she said, “Jennifer.”
Somehow Caleb managed not to smile, and quickly reined in a moment of male satisfaction in which his ego screamed, hey-ho-yeah, baby, she was jealous. He’d felt that same pang of the green-eyed monster with Rick, and it was nice to know he wasn’t alone.
Caleb accepted the phone, his fingers brushing Shay’s on purpose. She snatched her hand back, and this time, he had to turn away to hide a smile.
“What’s up, Jennifer?” he asked, walking to Shay’s window and pulling up the wooden blinds to inspect her locks. Check. Need replacing.
Jennifer didn’t bother with a greeting. “Who the heck was that, and why don’t we know about her? I can’t imagine you ever letting a woman answer your phone. You’re too private. Which means she isn’t someone you just met.”
“We” meaning her and her husband, Bobby Evans, one of his best friends, a fellow Ace and, now, a business partner. “And your next question would be what?” Caleb asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Check,” she said. “You can’t talk or don’t want to. Fine. But expect the question again. I demand to know the scoop.”
“I’d expect nothing less from you,” Caleb assured her. He liked Jennifer. And he liked her with Bobby, who was the happiest he’d ever seen the man.
“Good,” she said, her tone saying he’d successfully dodged her question. For now. And just to be sure he got the “for now” part, she added, “Then we agree you’ll tell me about her later.” She didn’t give him time to argue. “Onward to the reason I called. We’re grilling burgers out at the Hotzone. So we borrowed a few things from your fridge. Mustard, pickles. A few things we forgot.”
His place was a small trailer at the back of the facility, meant to be temporary and offering him zero in privacy. “My place is your place. Since you asked and all.”
She laughed. “I knew you’d see it that way. I’ll save you a burger. Or you could head back now and bring whomever she is with you.”
Caleb turned to find Shay scribbling an address on a piece of paper. “Tonight’s not good,” he replied.
Shay’s gaze snapped to his. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I can deal with this myself.”
He held her stare and said to Jennifer, “Don’t keep Bobby up too late. We have a sunrise jump.” Shay’s eyes went wide before she looked away, although he saw the pink flush of her cheeks first.
Caleb ended the call. “Her husband, Bobby, is one of my partners.”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yeah. I guessed that.”
“There is no one else, Shay. Just you.”
Instantly, the air thickened with tension. “You didn’t have to tell me that.”
“And you?” he asked, muscles clenching in his back as he waited for the reply. The idea that she might be seeing someone else hit him with a punch. “Are you seeing anyone, Shay?”
Her lashes lowered, then lifted tentatively. “If I say yes?”
A rush of possessiveness filled him. “I’d say he must not be too compelling since you were in your parents’ pantry kissing me.”
She blinked and then laughed. “I believe your ego has expanded while you were off becoming some sort of super soldier, able to break into houses with a snap of your fingers.”
Caleb wasn’t laughing. He was thinking of the illogical dread he’d felt for that day when he might hear she was married. Relief would have been logical—if he didn’t really want her. But he did. He always had.
“Answer, Shay,” he ordered softly.
Shay turned serious. “No,” she said. “I’m not seeing anyone.” She firmed her lips. “Including you.”
Satisfaction filled him. They’d see about that before this night was over.
“THIS IS IT,” Shay said, pointing out a stucco-style house nestled in the expensive West Austin area, with lots of trees and hills surrounding it. “I don’t see a car, unless it’s in the garage, but it looks like there are lights on in the house.”
“Didn’t you say this guy is a schoolteacher?” Caleb asked, as he pulled into the driveway. “Because teachers don’t make this kind of dime.”
“He’s written some textbooks,” she said. “Maybe that pays well. We’ve never really talked about his financial position.” Which, now that she thought about it, he seemed to steer away from in their sessions.
“I doubt that,” Caleb said, and eyed the house. “Let’s go see good ol’ George.”
He reached for the truck door, and Shay grabbed his arm. “No. I should go alone. I don’t want him to feel I’ve betrayed his trust by letting someone else know that he’s a patient.”
“He’ll see me in the truck,” he said.
“And I’ll tell him you are a friend who knows nothing,” she said. “But if you hear me talk with him, that won’t play true. Seriously, Caleb. Talking about a case without a name is much different ethically than putting a face to the case. I need to do this alone.”
His jaw clenched visibly despite the darkness of the cab. “Don’t go inside.”
“All right,” she said and reached for her door.
Caleb shackled her arm. “I mean it, Shay. Don’t go in or I’ll come in after you. You never know what someone is capable of, especially someone already unstable.”
Shay should have been irritated, but she wasn’t. He’d done a lot for her tonight, and she liked feeling cared about. Still, she had to give him a hard time. “Are all soldiers this paranoid or is this a special quality you’ve honed all on your own?”
“I’m cautious,” he said. “But that’s not why I’m stopping you now.” He motioned to the window.
Shay frowned and followed his direction, gaping at what she saw. In the upstairs window, a couple had appeared, or rather the silhouette of a naked couple.
“He stood me up to have sex,” she gasped.
“Looks like,” Caleb responded. “In the man’s defense, though, you d
id say he’s been reclusive for the three years since his wife died. If this woman showed up and made him an offer while he was in that kind of deprived state, he was probably pretty powerless to say no.”
“Hold on a minute. ‘I need to make a phone call’ sounds pretty simple to me,” she said smartly.
He laughed and started the engine. “I say Mexican food and margaritas are in order.”
Shay sighed and said, “Yes. Please.” She was beyond denying herself time with Caleb. She enjoyed him. She wanted to hear about the last ten years. And they needed to talk. In public, if not on the phone. In public being the operative phrase here. That meant she could maintain her “hands off for the night” decision, no matter how hot it might get between her and Caleb. It was a safe plan—she was sure of it.
8
AN HOUR LATER, AFTER George’s scandalous window show, Shay sat in a booth across from Caleb in the far dark corner of a hole-in-the-wall Mexican-food joint. A bit off the beaten path, Jose’s had less traffic than the busy restaurant scene of Austin on a Saturday night. And darn, was it underrated—both in atmosphere and quality.
Shay ran her hand over her midsection as the waiter took her plate. Her stomach was officially full and happy, and it cared not a bit about the old, scuffed hardwood or the red, weathered booth with a rip here and there. But then, Caleb was enough visual for Shay. The urge to reach over and caress the light stubble dusting his jaw had all but won out at least three times. Four. Right now was four.
She curled her fingers in her lap and quickly distracted herself with another memory—one of many they’d shared over dinner. “Remember the fake ID debacle?”
He paused, beer near his lips. “You mean when Kent tried to sneak into the horse races with an ID that said he was twenty-five, when he was sixteen with peach fuzz?” He chuckled and took his drink.
“Wait,” Shay said, leaning forward, flattening her hands on the table. “There was more than one ID debacle?”