Jill Shalvis - Aussie Rules

An oncoming car slashed light over his tense features as he turned to her. “Because you called.”

“But you’re mad at me.”

“One thing has nothing to do with the other.”

Her head was beginning to spin, and with a sound of distress, she put her hand to it.

He swore, then jerked the truck to the side of the road and braked hard.

“I’m not going to get sick in your truck,” she said. “I’m not that drunk. A pity, really, because believe me, the night sucked.”

“I’m not worried about you getting sick. You know how to hold your alcohol. Which isn’t a compliment, by the way.” A raindrop slid down his jaw, plopped onto his chest. His shirt was plastered to his torso. “I can be pissed as hell at you, Deem, and still be there when you need me. I wish you’d get that through your thick skull.”

She couldn’t breathe. She could only draw air into her lungs. “That’s a foolish thing to tell me. It gives me the upper hand.”

His eyes were dark, and extremely solemn as he shook his head. “Actually, what I was hoping it would give you is a sense of…I don’t know. Security.”

Security. Her greatest fantasy, and because it had continually eluded her, also her greatest fear. That he’d so cavalierly throw it around confused her.

And hurt. “You know what? I gotta go.” She fumbled for the door handle, but Danny beat her to it, locking it, waiting until she turned to glare at him.

“Go ahead and be pissed,” he said. “That’ll make us a fine pair.”

“Danny-”

“I’m taking you home,” he grated out. “All the way home.”

“No.” She grappled with the lock, but became both horrified and humiliated to find her hands shaking. Shaking. “Oh, God.” She set her forehead to the glass. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I shouldn’t have let you come for me. Not you.”

Gripping her shoulders, he pulled her around to look at him, his usually soft, melting eyes furious. “Why, because I hate knowing you’re out there every night, all night? Because I hate knowing that one day a phone call in the middle of the night won’t be necessary because you won’t be able to make a phone call?”

Backing away as far as she could, until the door handle dug into her back, she crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to come out here tonight. I’m sorry I’ve made you mad.” She swallowed, blinked back tears. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I don’t know why I did that, I never do that.”

He frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t like to kiss.”

He looked floored. “What?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.” She turned away. “And anyway, this is all your own fault.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

She looked out the window, staring blindly into the night and uttered the truth for once. “Because you’ve never made a move on me,” she whispered.

He pulled back as if she’d slapped him. She felt his gaze boring into her but she had exhausted herself with that last outburst and didn’t look at him, instead pressed her hot forehead to the cool glass.

The beat of silence stretched out, and in it she wanted to die. Thankfully, without another word, Danny shoved the truck into gear and steered back onto the highway and drove her home.

Which was good, really, because she didn’t want to hear him apologize for not wanting her. She’d had enough humiliation for one night.

When he finally pulled into her driveway, she fumbled with the door, unable to get out quickly enough.

“Dimi-”

“Thank you,” she muttered, and ran out of his truck and into her place before he could do anything stupid. Before she could do anything stupid.

Like beg him to come in.

The San Francisco Regatta Hotel was big and far fancier than Mel would have picked on her own, but the Huttons had insisted that she and Bo join them-so they all climbed into the Huttons’ limo waiting at the airport, and drove to the hotel.

Mel was quite certain the Huttons’s credit card hadn’t groaned and nearly keeled over on the spot at the front desk from the night’s rate. Still muttering about it, she entered her posh, elegant hotel room and stood there feeling a bit like a bull in a china shop. Tossing her duffel bag onto the fancy, silky, perfectly made bed, she took a deep, calming breath.

Which backed up into her throat when she realized two things at once. One, her hotel door hadn’t shut behind her. And two, that was because Bo stood in the opened doorway, watching her.

Damn it, she was still a little shaky from the adrenaline rush of the rough flight. She couldn’t deal with him now, standing there looking disheveled and sexy.

“That was some flying,” he said.

She turned away and told herself that her stomach jangled because she was still shaken. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for getting on a flight you hadn’t planned on.”

“Can’t plan out your whole life, you know.”

Maybe not, but she’d tried. Planning meant a lot to her. It gave her a sense of routine, and routine was what had gotten her through some incredibly tough times.

He stepped closer. “Sometimes you’ve just got to wing it.”

Such as having sex with him, she supposed. Wild, erotic, earthy, glorious sex during which she knew she’d come with such ease it still blew her mind.

Not fair that he made her yearn and burn, and not just for another orgasm. He made her yearn and burn to be what she’d always secretly wished that she could be: spontaneous, easygoing, and…dare she even think it?…sexy.

With a soft laugh, he tugged lightly at her hair. “Earth to Mel.”

“I’m here.”

He looked at her for a moment. “That was a tough flight, and I meant what I said. You pulled it off with grace.”

“Imagine that. Me with grace.”

He didn’t laugh with her. In fact, his face remained utterly solemn as he lifted his other hand and cupped her face.

Oh, God. “Don’t,” she said shakily.

“Don’t what? Touch you?”

“Right. And don’t look at me like that, either. Like you’re proud of me, like you care about me.”

“Too bad, since both apply.”

“No, they don’t. Not really.” She took a step back. “Look, I’m a difficult woman-”

“Wow, there’s a news flash.”

“I’m serious.”

“Me, too. Now, about that servicing.”

Her entire body leapt to attention at that, and she took another step back. Her thighs hit the mattress.

He came forward some more, and her hands came up to his chest. Beneath her fingers she could feel the steady beat of his heart. Hers wasn’t nearly as steady, but she told herself that that was lingering adrenaline from the flight. She opened her mouth to say something, she had no idea what, but her cell vibrated in her pocket. The ID was foreign, possibly Mexican, and now her poor overworked heart skipped a beat entirely.

Bo cut his eyes to the cell. “Sally.”

She hurriedly flipped it open. “Hello?” Nothing. “Hello? Sally?”

More nothing.

She and Bo stared at each other. “Bad connection,” she said slowly, closing the phone with great reluctance. They looked at it for a long moment, both more strained than they’d been on the crazy flight here, but it didn’t ring again.

“Call back,” Bo said tightly.

She punched in all the numbers, then locked gazes with him while it rang somewhere far away, her heart pounding, pounding…

No one answered.

“It could have been a wrong number,” she murmured. “Not Sally-”

Bo put a finger over her lips, his eyes hot, dark, and fascinating. “I can take a lot, Mel, and have, but no more lies, not from you.”