Jill Shalvis - Flashback

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

Aidan strode right past her, going to his dresser.

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

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

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

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

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

If she dared…

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

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

It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Naked as a jay bird, she opened her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or ten.

Or maybe a cold shower.

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

God bless tan lines.

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

And he had no idea what she was thinking.

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

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

“Only there are no ashes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

“What does it mean?”

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

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

She lifted a shoulder, tacitly agreeing with him.

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

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

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

Be the good guy.

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

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

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

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

As was he.

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

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I-”

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

“Kenzie-”

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

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

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

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

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