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  he could cover her up, she scooted over in open invitation.

  “You need your rest. You need to relax.”

  “Relaxing is out of the question.”

  “The doctor said—”

  “I know. I just . . .” She lifted a shoulder. “Can’t. There’s too much racing around in my brain. I can’t slow it down.”

  He made a soft sound of regret and kicked off his shoes. Then shrugged out of his shirt.

  Okay, she liked where this was going.

  But instead of stripping out of his pants, he only unbuttoned and unzipped, and then carefully lay down next to her.

  “You didn’t finish,” she said in great disappointment.

  He let out a low laugh. “You are not up for anything fun and naughty, so don’t even go there.” He pulled her in as if she was a China doll in danger of breaking, running his hands up and down her body in a gesture she was certain he meant to be soothing but instead began to warm her from the inside out.

  “I am so up for fun and naughty.” But she yawned, making him laugh again.

  “Just let your eyes close.” His fingers danced up her side.

  Her nipples hardened in hope.

  But he didn’t touch them.

  “Shayne.”

  “Shh.” He played with the straps of her bra as if he couldn’t help himself.

  “Still not relaxed. In case you were wondering.”

  “It’d help if you stopped talking.”

  “You know I’m not good at that.”

  “Try. You’ve got to try to relax.”

  “Any ideas on how I could do that?” Please, have some ideas.

  “No.” But as if maybe he really did, his hand slid down her back, toying with the low waistband of her panties.

  “Keep going.”

  With a laugh, he slipped his fingers just beneath the waistband.

  “More.”

  He breathed another sound, a half laugh, half groan as he stroked her.

  “Yeah,” she managed. “Seriously. That’s helping.”

  “Then why are you still talking?”

  “Good question. Maybe I’m not . . .” She wriggled, and felt him. Hard. “Distracted enough. More distraction, please.”

  “Now who’s bossy.” But he slid that talented hand lower.

  And . . . oh, my God, yes . . . even lower. “That’s w-working. But you should keep going. Just to make sure.”

  “Should I?”

  Sounding husky and aroused, he rolled her to her back, brushing his mouth to her ear. “Then stay,” he whispered. “And don’t move. Not an inch.” Following this command, he slid beneath the covers, vanishing from her view. She couldn’t follow his progress without moving her head, which would hurt. Plus he’d been pretty clear—don’t move.

  So she didn’t.

  She felt him unhook her bra, then skim it off, and then his mouth glided over first one breast and then the other, taking her to another place, where there were no headaches, no mysterious bad guys, nothing but this.

  How long had they’d known each other? A few days? And yet he knew just how to touch her, how to taste her, as if he understood her body even better than she did, and she arched up helplessly until he put a hand low on her belly, holding her down.

  Right. Don’t move.

  But staying still was so difficult, especially when that hand low on her belly slid down.

  And...

  Down . . .

  Then slowly slid her panties to her thighs, then off completely, after which he made himself a home between her thighs.

  He kissed her upper thigh.

  She fisted her hands in the sheets at her side. “Uh—”

  “A little bit more shhh would be good.” He kissed his way to her other thigh, which he gently nudged, further opening her to him, making way for his broad shoulders. “There,” he murmured in approval, using that low, husky voice with bunches of wicked promise in it.

  She loved that voice.

  Then he bent his head and made good on that implied promise, driving her with his voice, his tongue, his fingers, as he took her right to the edge.

  Then pushed her over.

  And when she came back to herself he was holding her against him, stroking her body with his hands. She wanted to speak, wanted to somehow return the favor, wanted . . . oh, she wanted so many things . . .

  But with his warm heat surrounding her, all that delicious strength soothing her, taking her right into dreamland where slumber awaited, she could do nothing but sigh in bliss and drift . . . off . . .

  Chapter 20

  The next morning Shayne woke up to Dani hustling about her bedroom. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a pair of socks. This’ll probably come as a shock, but I’m not the most organized of people.”

  He blinked. She was already dressed, complete with white bandage around her head, protecting her stitches. She pulled her hair into a low ponytail. Immediately strands began to slip out and brush her shoulders. She sighed in exasperation but left them.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Work.”

  He stared at her in shock. Not a hell of a lot shocked him, ever. But this woman, with the drownin-me eyes and the kiss that stirred him from the inside out, not to mention the sweet smile that always tipped his heart upside . . . she shocked him on a daily basis.

  Make that by the minute. She shocked him by the minute. “Dani. You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you have a concussion, and stitches.”

  “Had a concussion. Mild. I’m better, just a little headache.”

  “Your doctor told you to take it easy.”

  “I am. I will.”

  He’d always had low blood pressure, but he felt it rising now. “Okay, how about you don’t go to work. Because the last time you went to work, your head was nearly bashed in. And the time before that, someone shot at you.”

  “And missed,” she pointed out. “I’ve been wondering at that, Shayne. Why did they miss?”

  His heart actually skipped a beat at the thought of the bullet not missing, tearing through any single inch of that flesh he loved.

  “See, I think they missed on purpose.” Leaning into her mirror, she applied lip gloss.

  Peach, he was guessing by the color.

  He loved peach lip gloss. “Maybe you were just lucky.” His voice was a little hoarse. He’d gone a long time without overly engaging his damn heart, and she’d not only engaged it, she’d locked all missiles on it, in a matter of days.

  “See, that’s the thing. I’m not lucky.” She rolled her lips together, spreading the gloss. “I’ve never been lucky.” Her gaze locked on his in the mirror. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

  “Someone’s toying with you. I get that. But we’ve got a plan.”

  “The list is not a plan.”

  “Talking to everyone on it is.”

  “Talking? Is that what you were doing when you lifted Alan by the scruff of his shirt?”

  He’d never been much of a fighter. Brody had always taken that roll. Noah too, when it’d been required. Shayne had always been like the middle brother, the peacemaker, the pacifist. But he didn’t feel much like a pacifist at the moment. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  She stared at him, then let out a disgusted breath of air. “You are being such a guy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing someone with a penis would understand.” But she sighed. “You really think I should talk to my stepsiblings?”

  “Hell yes, we should.”

  She just looked at him, not missing the shift from “I” to “we,” but clearly deciding to pick her battles. “You have a flight today?”

  “Just to Vegas and back. We could leave right after that.”

  She sighed. “I’ll meet you at Sky High later, then.”

  “After you go into work?”

  �€