Jill Shalvis - Out Of The Blue

Why? Because Zach was standing right in front of her looking a bit wicked, definitely gorgeous, and just a tad dangerous. He was back and her tummy had gone all tight, her toes were still curled and all sorts of currents were racing through erogenous zones she hadn’t even known existed.

Because of one simple smile.

Damn Alexi and Tara for putting thoughts of wild sex in her mind.

Toilets, she reminded herself. Eleven of them in the inn. They were hers.

“Who knows when I’ll have a whole week to myself again,” he said, leaning back against the doorjamb and studying her in an openly assessing way. “I’ve been promising Alexi I’d come ever since the three of you opened this place.”

And he’d finally come.

Right now, tonight. Just as she’d decided maybe she should lose her virginity once and for all. At the thought of losing it with this tall, leanly muscled, rugged man she’d once known, she nearly slid to the floor in a boneless mass of jelly.

“It’s nice to be here,” he said, still smiling, still gorgeous.

Darn him.

“Well, it’s nice to have you,” she said, meaning it more than he could know. Alexi had been so worried about him, they’d all been. He’d nearly died, yet it seemed so surreal to think of that when he was standing there in the flesh, looking so...so alive. “Are you really okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, I’m really okay...or I will be after I sleep for a week.” He shook his head as he studied her. “It’s hard to believe how long it’s been. You’ve...” His gaze dipped downward slowly, past the ever-so-lovely apron she wore—not!—all the way to her sandals, then slowly back up again. “You’ve gone and grown up on me, Hannah.”

Oh boy. So had he.

He was still big, still powerfully built, standing there with the casualness of someone totally at ease anywhere. There was a toughness to him that reminded her of what he did for a living, an edge that hadn’t been there before, a dangerous one, tempered with restraint.

But it was just Zach. She knew him. Or she had. He dressed the same, in a simple polo shirt and faded, soft-looking jeans.

Nothing else looked soft though, not those long, powerful legs or—

A warm flush stole over her and she guiltily jerked her gaze up to meet his, and found herself just as fascinated by what she found there.

His mouth might still be curved in that sexy, slow, lazy smile, but he wasn’t amused, not really. In fact, Hannah would have bet her next paycheck that those fine lines fanning out from his baby blues were from exhaustion, maybe even pain. So was the slight slump to his mile-wide shoulders. His dark, silky-looking hair was on the wrong side of long, curling over his collar, and disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it often.

But it was the faint shadows beneath his eyes that grabbed her, and the tense way he held himself in spite of his smile, as if he were close to keeling over. He didn’t look like the decorated cop she knew he was. He looked tired, almost brooding, and unsettled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Confirming her suspicions, he yawned. “I’m just really beat,” he said simply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Long drive, long day. Six weeks out of commission and I’m out of shape.”

He didn’t look out of shape to her, not then, and not now when he stretched, the movement slow and unconsciously sensual. Hannah found her gaze glued to all those long limbs and fabulous muscles, her mouth suddenly dry.

“I really need a bed,” he told her.

Unbidden images flashed through her mind; silk sheets, bare, hot skin pressed against more bare, hot skin; long, drugging kisses... Oh my.

Could she really do it? Could she really make love with him?

As he stretched again, he let out a low, rough sound from deep in his throat.

Oh yeah. She could. Definitely. “Um... Does Alexi know you’re here?” An idea stirred, formed. “Never mind,” she said. “Just sit.” Gently, she pressed him into a chair, her hands burning from just touching his broad, exhausted shoulders, her mind racing with the possibilities. “I’ll go get you a room.”

“Sounds good.”

She hoped he still felt that way in a few moments, because no matter whose brother he was, there wasn’t a room to be had.

Which brought her to her plan. Her crazy plan.

Her how-to-get-un-virginal plan.

SO BONE-WEARY he could hardly climb the stairs, Zach shouldered his duffel bag and headed toward the room Hannah had just given him.

Hannah.

It’d been ten years since he’d set sight on her, a very long time given she’d been fourteen when he’d left. Fourteen and gangly and awkward, terribly self-conscious in a way that to his own nineteen years had seemed...well, very young.

Still, whenever he’d thought of Avila, a small part of him had always wondered if she’d kept that sweet smile, if she still had freckles dancing across her nose, if she’d ever grown into her long, skinny legs.

If he wasn’t so tired, he might have acknowledged that he now had the answers to those burning questions.

Yes, she still had that sweet, contagious smile, the one that made her green eyes shine like jade.

Yes, she still had a scattering of freckles dancing across her nose.

And most definitely yes, she’d grown into those long, long legs—legs that now could be registered as a lethal weapon, for she’d nearly stopped him in his tracks when he’d stumbled across her in the kitchen.

If he hadn’t been about to fall asleep on his feet, he might have been able to fully appreciate those unexpected, and delightful, changes.

He might have even enjoyed the décor of the lodge, knowing his sister and her friends were far more talented than he could have imagined. He might have wondered who Hannah had kicked out of the clearly full lodge in order to give him a place to crash.

But his mind had gone fuzzy, and amazing as it seemed for a man who hadn’t been with a woman for far too long, he couldn’t even think about it.

He needed sleep.

Beyond that, he probably needed some good food, too, and some serious brain rest, but if he didn’t take care of the sleep first, he was going to fall down on the spot.

Again, his job’s fault. Portraying someone else for an entire year on the undercover sting, then living on the edge for that long, always on guard and never being able to relax, was incredibly hard on the body.

Oh yes, and being shot.

That hadn’t helped, either.

He’d assumed he’d fully recuperate, but suddenly he had his doubts, and it scared him.

His job was his life. He hadn’t set out for it to be so, but he’d always wanted to be the best, and to do that, sacrifices had been made. His personal life, for one. He’d been so busy being a cop, being a good cop, he’d lost a part of himself. Strange how he’d been perfectly happy that way, until he couldn’t do his job.

Now, that life seemed...empty. No, that wasn’t right.

Maybe it was just exhaustion.

On the second-floor landing he came to a small sitting area. There was a fireplace, and several couches were nicely arranged for easy gathering.

Seated there was an older couple sharing a pot of tea. Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz, they were all too happy to tell him, when he made the mistake of pausing one second too long and they introduced themselves.

Mr. Schwartz gave him a sly smile. “You’re here to pick up babes, I bet. Saw a bunch on the beach today.”

Mrs. Schwartz turned on him. “You said you didn’t notice!”

“Only helping out the young man, dear.”

“Did he ask you for help? No!” Mrs. Schwartz took her husband’s cup of tea right out of his hands and placed it on the tray in front of them. “Always butting in, you are. I’m sure this nice young man doesn’t need any help finding a woman to keep his bed warm at night, especially from you. Isn’t that right?”