Читать книгу Savor the Danger - Lori Foster - Страница 9

IT WASN’T EASY for Alani to accept that he truly couldn’t recall a single detail. She’d suffered so much angst over her gullibility, over behavior that, for all intents and purposes, no longer mattered.

Except that she wanted to do it again.

Unwilling to expose her heart, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, darlin’. Something swayed you.” He tried a strained half smile. “Help me out here.”

Because Jackson looked so agonized, she tried to give him the simplest of truths. “It doesn’t matter anymore, but it was the things you said as much as anything you did.”

“Yeah?” He brought up her chin, leaving her no choice but to look into his deep green eyes. “Like what?”

He kept touching her with an implied intimacy, stroking, nuzzling. She’d just spent hours coming to grips with the idea that she’d succumbed to a one-night stand, yet he acted as though they’d just begun a long affair.

She discounted everything he’d said last night, but still…did he want more?

If so, how much more?

He trailed his fingers over her cheek, around her neck, over her bare shoulder.

She shivered. Jackson might be sick from whatever had taken his memory, but he was still the quintessential primal male. Always.

At least…that’s how he always was with her.

Was he like that with every woman? Probably. Even Dare’s and Trace’s wives had noted Jackson’s good looks and sex appeal.

Shaking her head, Alani refused to think about it. “It was just…things you said. That’s all.” Things he’d promised, commitments he’d insinuated. “I guess it’s the stuff guys say to women when they want to talk them into bed.”

That made him frown. “Like what? Compliments? Big deal. When have I ever not complimented you?”

Sure, Jackson did a lot of sweet-talking—while on the make. “No, this was different.” This had felt more genuine, wrought from emotion and not just lust.

“How?” His attention drifted to her chest. “I bet I told you how damn sexy you are.”

Resisting an eye roll wasn’t easy. Later he had called her sexy, but at that point they’d already been on a heated path to lovemaking and she’d felt sexy.

She wasn’t sure she could pinpoint the moment that she’d known she would sleep with him, but that day he’d been different. Not more intense, because that wasn’t possible. Jackson was always intense.

But from the second she’d walked in the door, he’d looked at her, touched her and spoken to her differently.

He’d spoken from his heart—or so she’d thought.

Renewed embarrassment made her defensive. “Actually, you said I’m pretty.” And that was both sweeter and more touching than claiming her “hot” or “sexy.” Those sentiments had been expressed by the men who’d taken her, the men who’d manhandled her, restrained her, touched her, the men who’d planned to—

“Hey.” As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Jackson pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, the bridge of her nose. Sounding much as he had last night, he said, “You are pretty, Alani. So damn pretty.” His mouth brushed her ear. “All over.”

Face warm, she shook off the remnants of old emotion, fear and desolation from her kidnapping, discomfort from her naiveté last night.

“Thank you.” Dare had killed her kidnappers, and her brother now focused on destroying all human traffickers. She wasn’t with those men anymore. She was with Jackson, and he was about all she could handle right now. “You also said I was sweet.”

His burning gaze zeroed in on the notch of her thighs. “God, I bet you are.”

Her knees went shaky, so she pushed back from him. Hoping for a few calm moments to think, she said, “We have to figure this out, Jackson, so leash the lust.”

His chin went up as he stared down at her. “Woman, you ask the impossible.”

“Do it anyway!”

Sighing, lifting his hands from her as if in surrender, he stepped back. “This is me trying.”

Though the situation couldn’t be more skewed, he remained strong and capable. She envied him that. “What do you think happened? Did you drink?”

“Doubt it.” He shook his head. “I can’t remember, but I’m not much of a drinker.” And then with a shrug, “Never have been.”

She knew that about him. It was a control thing. Her brother and Dare…they disdained alcohol because it could throw off reflexes or perception, and they were all about control—of themselves and others. If Jackson imbibed much, they wouldn’t trust him.

She didn’t know the whole story of how Jackson came to join their team, but not long after she’d been recovered from Tijuana, they’d brought him on board. Obviously they trusted him, and that meant Alani could trust him, too—at least about this.

With anything more personal, like a romantic relationship, she just didn’t know.

He watched her every move. “I rummaged through my apartment, even the garbage, but I didn’t see any empty bottles. No sign of a drinking binge on my end.”

Suspicions crowded in, but for the moment, she pushed them aside. “Did you maybe fall and hit your head?”

That insulted him. “No.” He snorted. “Course not.”

“But you don’t remember, right? So how do you know?”

Roughly tousling his own hair, he said, “See? No bruises, no bumps.” He moved in again. “In fact, other than a few scratches that I’m hoping came from you, I don’t have any marks—no bruises or cuts or anything.”

“Scratches?”

His mouth quirked sensually. “On my shoulders. Small half moons right where a woman usually holds on tight when she’s—”

“So.” Interrupting seemed the safer course. “You probably weren’t involved in a scuffle, then.”

He shook his head. “Let’s talk about what might’ve happened…after.”

Would his possibilities mesh up with her suspicions? Likely. “After what?”

He pointed a finger at her. “Maybe you don’t understand how it is for me, how it’d be for any guy, but especially for me since I’ve been hot on your tail for a while now.”

The things he said, and how he said them, were both insulting and somehow…flattering. “Jackson…”

“To make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings, let me clue you in, okay? I’ve got a bad case for you.”

“Sexual chemistry. I know. You’ve told me.” Last night it had felt like more, but last night didn’t exist for him.

“Call it whatever you want, doesn’t matter to me.”

Sadly, what they called it mattered a lot to her. “I see.”

“Don’t go twisting my words, okay?” Jackson thrust out his chin. “Bottom line is that I have to know what we did. All of it.”

“I already told you.”

“We had sex, yeah. Got it. But that could mean a whole range of things. I need the particulars, like if it was nice and slow, or fast and furious.”

Oh. She peeked at him. “Both?”

He went still, then clasped his head and groaned again. In a croak, he asked, “Good old missionary, or did we mix it up a bit? Bedroom or living room?”

The first time had been in his bed. Then his shower. And later in the hall, against the wall. “All of the above.”

His nostrils flared. “How many times did I have you, anyway?”

She bit her lips then ventured… “All night?”

Jerking away, he stalked three steps, then rushed back to her. “Lights on or off?”

“On.” He’d insisted, but at that point, she hadn’t cared. She had enjoyed the concentrated way he’d looked at her, and she’d wanted to see him, too.

Not only had she forgotten any shyness over her nudity, she’d also forgotten about the past, about men who’d taken her and looked at her, handled her like property. With Jackson, she’d overcome a lot of hang-ups. Maybe too many, considering the night had been built on fraud.

His expression a mix of pleading and demand, he grabbed her shoulders. “Damn, baby, I need to see you again. All of you. I need to know how you sound when you’re excited, and when you come.” His busy fingers went to the shoulder strap of her sundress, touching almost idly, playing with it as if it tempted him greatly. “I need to taste you, smell you—”

Stunned, flustered and a little turned on, Alani grabbed his wrist. She hated to disappoint him—and herself—but she saw no other choice. Not right now. “Jackson,” she said gently, “you can’t seriously expect me to put aside everything that happened and just…”

“Pick up wherever we left off? Yeah.” He searched her gaze. “God, yeah.”

“Not happening.” But he looked very endearing in his need. No one had ever wanted her the way Jackson Savor did.

He also looked ready to collapse. Worried for him, she touched his jaw and forced her mind onto more immediate matters. “Have you eaten?”

He scowled. “No. Screw that.” He drew himself up. “You think I could wake up with you naked, soft and smiling one minute, pissed off and storming out the next, with no clue why or how, and I’d just go about my day?”

Yes, well, that did sound absurd. “Sorry.”

“After you left, I suffered through a cold shower, choked down three aspirin and prayed for even a kernel of memory. I got jack-shit. Nothing.”

And yet, when he should be resting in his bed, all he wanted was…her.

Her heart softened more, and her reservations waned. “Why do you think you’ve forgotten?”

Frustration clenched his jaw. His head dropped back on his shoulders, eyes closed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

How could she, especially with him looking so sick? “Of course not.”

His eyes narrowed, and that, too, looked painful, prompting her to change tactics.

“This is ridiculous. You need to sit down.” She took his hand and led him back to her living room. At the couch, she stopped and pressed against his chest. “Sit.”

After a heartbeat where he looked as if he might argue, he more or less fell into the cushions, his strong limbs lax, his entire demeanor devastated. And the enormity of it all hit her, really hit her.

Even the strongest of men had moments of weakness. Jackson always seemed so indomitable, so confident.

But for right now, he needed her, in more ways than one.

Maybe she hadn’t been the only one played last night.

Sinking down next to him, Alani touched his forehead. As if surprised, he went very still.

“No fever.” She cupped his jaw, and felt it firm under her fingers. “Although you are warm.”

Warily, Jackson watched her.

She smoothed his unruly blond hair. It was a little too long, bleached by the sun. Cool and silky. Such a contrast to his inner strength and his external hardness.

Alani made up her mind. “We’re definitely going to talk about this, Jackson, you can believe that. But first I’m going to get you something to drink, and then something to eat. When did you take the aspirin?”

One eye twitched in rebellion. “Don’t start mothering me, Alani. That’s not what I want from you.”

She smiled at his surly tone. “Consider it friendly concern, okay?”

“Call it whatever you want, but I’d rather you lift up that dress, skim off those panties and straddle my lap.”

His audacity stole her breath and her aplomb. “Forget that idea.”

“With you touching me? Not likely.”

“It’s not my touch that’s doing it.” Playful, hoping to tease him into a less sexually aggressive mode, she nudged him with her shoulder. “It’s from all the provocative talking you’re doing.”

Slowly he shook his head. “It’s from you, babe. Talking to you, thinking about you.” His eyes closed for only a moment as he whispered, “Remembering you naked.” He rested a big, hot hand on her thigh, just under the hem of her sundress.

“You need to focus, Jackson.”

“I’m focused, believe me.”

Boy, was he ever. “On something other than sex.”

“I’m focused on you, and thoughts of sex automatically follow.” He tugged her closer. “But you know, I could be a lot more cooperative if you’d help me take the edge off first.”

And exactly how did he think to do that?

His hand slid higher while his voice went lower. “Just let me touch you—”

She grabbed his wrist. So thick, so solid. Dangerous waves of desire weakened her resistance. “We can’t do this.”

“We sure as hell can.” And then, “We already did. Right?”

Unnerved by how tempted she felt, Alani shook her head. “I can’t do this, not right now. So tell me, when did you take the aspirin?”

He stared at her mouth, and his fingers contracted. “Before I headed here, ’bout three hours ago.”

Relieved that he’d finally let up, she released a tight breath. “All right. I’ll get a couple more. Do you want to take off your boots?”

Slowly he nodded. “And my shirt.” His gaze came up to snare hers. “Maybe my pants, too.”

That was his most tempting offer so far. She hadn’t gotten nearly enough time to look at him last night, and this morning…well, he’d been vague, sick, and she’d been so insulted….

To remind herself as much as him, she said, “Forget it, Jackson. You’re not up for it.”

“Wrong.” His hand slid around to cup behind her knee. He tugged her leg toward him, over one of his thighs. “Trust me, I’m up.”

Don’t look, don’t look— Unbelievable. A full erection strained the worn denim of his jeans.

“Jackson.” Before things could get completely out of hand, Alani pushed up and away from him. “Be right back.”

She heard Jackson groan as she more or less fled the room.

When she returned minutes later with the aspirin, a cola and a sandwich, Jackson looked to be sleeping again. He had his head back, one forearm over his eyes, his body relaxed.

She wasn’t fooled; he still had an erection, so she knew he was wide-awake. “Here you go.”

Lowering the arm, he tracked her every move as she set the plate of food on the coffee table and sat down beside him to hand him the aspirin.

He eyed the glass of ice and foaming cola. “You open a new can?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t accept the aspirin. Showing his teeth in the semblance of a smile, he said, “Let’s strike a bargain.”

Given the look in his eyes, Alani already had an idea what he’d say. She had tried to use her time in the kitchen to collect herself. One look at Jackson, and she was lost again. “What kind of bargain?”

He caught her wrist and tugged her toward him. “Kiss me, and I’ll take the aspirin.”

She wanted to so badly. “Only a kiss?” she asked doubtfully.

“For now.”

She hesitated. He didn’t.

Taking her lack of denial as agreement, he drew her closer saying, “C’mon now, you can at least give me that.”

“I…” Was it even possible to resist him? She didn’t think so. “All right.”

She’d barely gotten the words out before his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was soft, hot.

Deep.

Before she knew it, he had her on her back on the sofa. He still held her wrist as he settled between her legs, pinning her down with his big body. He turned his head for a more complete fit, his tongue moving past her teeth, teasing hers.

Alani quickly lost the fight, already wanting him, needing him—and he freed her mouth.

Balanced over her, he dragged in a breath. “I’m coming on too strong.”

“Yes.” But she actually liked it.

He sawed his teeth together. “Just so you know, honey. You can trust me. No means no to me. If you say it—”

“I will.”

Panting, he pushed up on stiffened arms and said, “Give me the damn aspirin.” But he didn’t wait for her. He took them from her hand, tossed them back and reached for the drink. After downing half the glass, he plunked it back to the coffee table and stared at her. “We going for round two?”

“Round two?”

He gave one sharp nod. “You want me to eat, you gotta kiss me again.”

Forget bargains. His obvious need made everything else unimportant. Already reaching for him, she said, “Okay.”

His eyes blazed. He lowered himself to her.

And a knock sounded on her front door.

Alani went stiff with apprehension.

Jackson cursed under his breath.

The knock sounded again, more urgent this time, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock.

Ohmigod. That had to be her brother; no one else had a key to her place. She shoved frantically at Jackson’s shoulders. “Jackson, move!”

On a ragged groan, he started to do just that—and the door opened.

They both swiveled their heads.

Not only her brother stood there, but Dare, too. Both men froze.

Alani’s heart shot into her throat. She was trying to think of what to say, how to ease the awkwardness, when Jackson sat up and pulled her into his side.

As if awkward situations didn’t faze him at all, he said, “I’d shoot you both for rotten timing, but I guess we had to do this sooner or later.”

His face drawn from his surprise, his eyes narrowed and his demeanor mean, Trace slammed the door. “Yeah,” he said, and he started forward. “Let’s do this now.”

JACKSON WAS MORE than a little amazed when, before he could even decide if he wanted to face off with Trace or not, Alani jumped up to stand in front of him. She spread her slim arms wide and braced her feet apart. “Knock it off, Trace. Right now.”

Furious, Trace drew up short. “I knew you were fibbing when you told me you were at the movies.”

“Sorry about that.” Alani squirmed in guilt. “I just… I needed some time.”

“So I see.”

Brows climbing high, Dare leaned around Trace to see Jackson. “She’s protecting you?”

Suffering his own surprise, Jackson settled back into the couch. “Guess so.”

With his first good look at Jackson, Dare recoiled. “Jesus, man. You look like—”

“Shit. I know.” He caught Alani’s waist and plunked her down…right into his lap. Her backbone went stiff, probably from shock at his daring.

To her brother, he said, “Get a grip, Trace. We need to talk.”

Held back by Alani’s displeasure and probably his own sense of fair play, Trace locked his jaw. “It hardly needs explanation.”

“’Fraid it does.”

Stiffening even more, Alani gasped and jerked around to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

Her appalled tone quadrupled Dare and Trace’s curiosity. Trace asked, “Don’t dare do what?”

Jackson didn’t want to embarrass her, so it was with a lot of regret that he said reasonably, “They have to know, honey.”

“Jackson…” she warned.

“One of you better spit it out,” Dare said. “My imagination is in hyperdrive.”

“I think someone drugged me.”

Dare and Trace pulled back. “Well, hell,” Dare said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

Alani tried to leave him, but Jackson held on, and short of causing a scene, she couldn’t.

Trace, never one to miss a thing, glared.

Dare sat on the edge of the chair, patience personified. “All right, let’s hear it.”

Alani struggled anew, and that prodded Trace’s anger. In a deadly whisper, he ordered, “Let her go.”

His deadly whispers didn’t faze Jackson. “Not happening.”

Trace started forward.

And just that quick, Alani stopped fighting him and instead went back to defending him. “Stop right there, Trace! I mean it.”

Trace pulled up short, his left eye twitching.

No sense in dragging this out and making it worse, Jackson decided. “I woke up this morning with—”

“Jackson!”

“—Alani in bed with me.”

A collective breath-holding took place. Hell, he could almost hear heartbeats, it got so damn quiet. Jackson looked at Dare and then Trace.

Giving Alani a slight hug, he said, “Thing is, I have no recollection at all of getting her there.”

Beyond their slack-jawed surprise, neither Dare nor Trace reacted.

Jackson shrugged. “For a few hours this morning I was sick as hell, seeing double, light-headed, weak.”

Alani looked guilty, probably because she’d stormed out on him. But he understood her reaction. Always, whenever he’d considered getting her under him, he’d thought in terms of gentleness, easing her into things, showing deference to her lack of experience and the trauma of her past.

Had he been gentle with her? God, he hoped so, because her proverbial “morning after” sure had sucked. It’d been memorable—for being so awful.

Jackson hugged her again. Of course Dare and Trace both noticed.

“All I can think is that someone drugged me, but I don’t know who would do that, or how or why. Far as I can remember, I spent the day working on my house.” The place was livable but far from complete, so he preferred to stay in his current residence still. His plan had been to get Alani involved, using her expertise as a professional decorator. Whether she’d accepted it or not, he knew the sexual spark was there between them, and time together, alone, would only work in his favor.

But now…hell, he could maybe use the plan to soften her up after whatever had transpired yesterday.

“You see anyone while you were working?”

Jackson shook his head. “Not that I can remember.”

Silence reigned.

Since Alani burned with embarrassment and Trace looked lethal, Dare took over.

“If you were drugged, it could’ve been Rohypnol. Easy enough to slip that into a drink. It’s a sedative, so it could make you sick, and it can cause that amnesiatic effect.”

Jackson’s brain throbbed even more. “A date-rape drug? Seriously?”

Alani panicked. “We need to take him to the hospital!”

“No.” Jackson held her when she started to stand. He had no intention of getting on anyone’s radar. When he found out who had done this, he’d handle it himself, without the interference of local officials.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Alani told him with venom.

“Too late,” Trace said.

Jackson ignored the insult. He got where Trace was coming from. Alani’s brother didn’t like being blindsided with the idea that his baby sister was in a sexual relationship. Understandable.

Jackson only wished he could remember the sexual relationship.

Again, Dare interceded. “I’m not sure the hospital would do him much good, hon. Urine screens don’t look for Rohypnol. A blood test would be better but usually hospital labs don’t have the equipment to screen for it, so it’d have to be a send-out—and that takes time.”

“And by then, I’ll be fine,” Jackson told her. He ran his hands up and down her arms, hoping to reassure her. “I’m already feeling better, in fact.” A lot better, given how she’d kissed him, how quickly she’d melted once he got his mouth on hers.

Soon as he could get rid of Dare and Trace, he’d show her how great he felt.

Course, he needed to get it together. He absolutely couldn’t continue the hot and heavy relentless pursuit. Alani could take it as a lack of respect, maybe think he only wanted one thing from her, when in fact, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted.

Sex, definitely. Conversation, sure. He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him. What all that meant, he couldn’t say. He refused to jump the gun and mire himself in emotional restraints.

Once he had her, he’d be able to regroup and become a gentleman again. Maybe. With the way she pushed all his buttons, he couldn’t be sure—

Alani fretted. “I don’t know…”

“If we’re assuming he was given a roofie, then he can ride it out,” Dare told her.

“Well…” She looked at Jackson again, full of soft concern and maybe even caring. “Okay.”

Trace shook his head in disgust. “It wasn’t really up to you, Alani.”

No, it wasn’t. Never would Jackson let a woman dictate to him. It wasn’t in his nature. But to soften that reality, he said, “Trust me, Alani, I’m okay.”

Her censuring gaze swept the room. “As if any of you would admit to needing help.”

Dare took that as her agreement. “Great, then that’s settled. Now on to the rest.” He gave Alani a pointed look. “You spent the night with him?”

Her chin went up. “Yes.”

“What time did you get to his place?”

At the no-nonsense questioning and lack of condemnation—at least from Dare—she calmed a little. “Around dinnertime yesterday.”

“He was okay when you got there?”

“He was…” She glanced at Jackson, lifted a shoulder. “I suppose so. That is, he seemed a little off, but still—”

Trace suddenly lost it. With disbelief, he said, “Jackson, Alani? Really?”

She shouted right back, “Yes, really.”

“Without a single date? Without a damn clue? Or is that something you’ve kept from me?”

“No!” Then she flushed and cast a harassed look at Jackson. “That is…”

“He knows what it is, honey.” Not about to let her brother badger her into ending things before he even had a chance to figure out what he wanted, Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Get used to it, Trace.”

Dare held up a hand. “Do you think we could keep it civil so we can figure out what happened?”

Jackson shrugged. “Fine by me.” Never mind that he’d been slipped a mickey, that his head still pounded and his strength hadn’t completely returned. Alani was a warm, soft weight on his lap.

With every breath, he inhaled the unique perfume of her body. For the first time ever, he was able to stroke his fingers through her long blond hair, as he did right now. He could touch her skin, kiss her—and he did, lifting her delicate hand to brush his mouth over her knuckles.

She shivered, but otherwise tried to pretend the kiss meant nothing.

Trace looked apoplectic, but what the hell? Jackson couldn’t stop himself. Her brother was damn lucky he hadn’t already thrown him out so that he and Alani could get back to business.

But then again, why kick Trace out when his presence goaded Alani into showing her true feelings?

At any other time, having a woman—having anyone—act protective would insult the hell out of him. He could damn well face any problem head-on without help; he’d been doing it all his life. He didn’t need anyone shielding him.

But Alani wasn’t just any woman. She was special, so he relished this new twist. It beat the hell out of her telling him “no” any day.

Dare said to Trace, “Well?”

“Fine. But let’s get on with it.”

“Stop rushing him. He’s been through enough.”

Jackson hid his grin. When he’d first met Alani, he’d known she wasn’t the fainthearted flower her brother made her out to be. Sure, she was a delicate little thing, especially compared to his height and physicality. But she had the same strength of character, the same conviction, stubbornness and independence as Trace.

Losing their parents young had to have been rough. But Trace had overcompensated. He’d sheltered Alani more than she needed, pampered her beyond reason.

And then she’d been taken by human traffickers, and…

Jackson put his arms around her and pressed his face into her neck. He hadn’t known her then, but he couldn’t think about it without wanting to kill men who were already dead.

Mistaking his reaction for something altogether different, Alani touched his hair with a gentle hand. “Jackson, are you okay? Do you feel sick again? We can put off the inquisition until later, if you need more time.”

Trace growled in annoyance.

“He’s fine, Alani.” Dare gave Jackson a pointed look until he sat up straight again. “But he won’t be if he doesn’t start explaining soon.”

“Can’t.” Knowing more discussion would embarrass Alani further, but seeing no help for it, Jackson rolled a shoulder. “All I remember is finding Alani in my bed. I was wasted, she walked out on me, and that’s all I know. You’re going to have to grill her for the nitty-gritty.” And maybe in the bargain, he’d find out a few things, too.

Her elbow came back sharp and hard into his ribs. So much for her concern.

Trace’s face went red. Jackson knew he wanted to curse, but he tried hard to curb his language around his sister.

“Then it’s up to you, hon,” Dare said to Alani. “Did you notice anything off, anything different, when you went to his place?”

Alani licked her lips. “Actually, I did.” She cast a furtive glance at Jackson.

“He acted different? Drugged?” Trace asked. “And you still slept with him?”

She glared at her brother. “No. That is, other than seeming somehow…more sincere—”

“I was ever insincere?” Jackson asked her.

“Will you all stop interrupting?”

Dare encouraged her, saying, “Go on, Alani.”

With an effort, she gathered herself. “Jackson mostly seemed the same as always. Cocky, flirting, trying to charm the pants off every woman.”

Trace said, “I don’t need to hear this.”

“I don’t mean me.” But then she added, a little abashed, “Well, yes—me, too—I guess.”

Jackson gave her another squeeze.

“But I was talking about his neighbor.”

Everyone spoke at once, with Dare asking, “What neighbor? A woman?” and Trace saying, “You saw him flirting with her and still you stayed?”

Jackson announced, “I don’t flirt with my neighbors.”

Still on his lap, Alani raised a hand to quiet them all and then twisted to face Jackson. “I was going to tell you about this, but I wanted you to eat first.”

“He doesn’t need to be babied,” Trace grumbled.

“You be quiet!”

Her outburst left Trace bemused—and silent.

Hoping to calm her, to be a contrast to Trace’s animosity, which wasn’t winning him any points with Alani, Jackson bit back his automatic rebellion against her concern. “He’s right, honey. I keep telling you I’m fine.”

She turned back to Jackson. “You were really sick.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her closer to whisper, “Otherwise we’d still be in bed right now.”

Though he couldn’t have heard, Dare said, “Knock it off, Jackson. You’re wasting valuable time.”

Grim, Jackson said, “The only female neighbor I talk with much is Mrs. Guthrie, but she has to be sixty.”

Alani shook her head. “I assumed she was a neighbor because she was barefoot.”

The men all shared a look. If she’d been barefoot, maybe it was for the sake of stealth.

“But I didn’t watch her leave,” Alani explained, “so I don’t know where she went after she walked out your door. Maybe she wasn’t a neighbor. Maybe she was a…a date.”

Unable to think of any woman he’d have invited to his apartment, Jackson said, “Describe her.”

Alani shrugged. “I’d say in her early thirties.”

“No.”

She frowned. “Being thirty removes her from your radar?”

Not since meeting Alani had he gotten overly involved with anyone. He took care of business and ended it there. Period.

He did not invite any woman into his home.

No way in hell would he admit that to Alani, though, much less in front of Trace and Dare. “I’m just saying I’m not seeing any women in their thirties.”

“Short brown hair.”

“How short?”

Her face pinched with annoyance. “Pixie cut.”

He shook his head—and lifted a long hank of Alani’s silky fair hair to admire it. It was straighter and paler and a whole lot softer than his own. “Nope.”

Alani refused to be diverted. “Dresses like a hooker?”

“In her thirties? No.” There had been that one broad… No. That was ages ago and couldn’t even be called a one-night stand. Maybe an hour-long stand… He snorted. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“And I suppose you know every woman who lives near enough to drop in?”

“Didn’t say that.” But, like any other red-blooded male, he’d noted the more attractive ladies. “Hell, if any of my neighbors were good-looking, and if I wasn’t expending all my energy chasing you, I still wouldn’t go that route.”

Dare nodded. “Too close for comfort.”

“Exactly.”

Alani frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Complications,” Trace explained as he paced.

Suspicion narrowed her eyes. “What kind of complications?”

“The kind where, after the sex is done and the interest gone, you’re stuck with an annoyed woman in close proximity to where you live.”

Slowly, taut with judgment, Alani swiveled around with a dark frown aimed at Jackson.

He said, “Uh…” Trace wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to spell it out to her like that.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Trace saved him by slashing his hand through the air. “Does she sound like anyone you’ve been with?”

Jackson shook his head. “Nope.”

To Alani, Trace asked, “Did you speak to her?”

“Well…yes.” With renewed annoyance, Alani glared at Jackson again. “She answered your door for you.”

Jackson’s brows shot up. “Where the hell was I?”

“On the couch.” She poked him in the chest. “You were all lounged back, comfortable, your feet up on the coffee table. I was ready to leave since you appeared otherwise involved, but then you got up when you saw it was me at the door, and the woman said she had to go anyway, and…”

“Jesus, Alani.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.” She turned her cannon on her brother again. “Did Jackson do anything you haven’t done?”

“He was with another woman!”

She started to bolt off Jackson’s lap, but when he held on to her hips, she subsided, too anxious to fight her brother to quibble over her position. “So? We didn’t have any kind of understanding—”

“We do now,” Jackson announced, just in case she’d missed that important fact.

“—and he said he was thrilled to see me.”

Whoa. On a gut level, Jackson rejected that wording. “Thrilled?” Sure, he might have been thrilled, but would he really have been that obvious?

Dare grinned, shook his head and repeated, “Thrilled,” with clear mockery.

“And that’s all it took?” Trace asked.

She strangled on a deep inhale. “Are you calling me easy?”

“No!” Now Trace looked appalled. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Jackson’s sincerity was enough for me to stay. And then…well…”

They all waited.

“Oh, forget it!” And this time she got away from Jackson. “It happened, okay? Get over it so we can concentrate on the fact that he was drugged.”

“No one is forgetting that, hon.”

She glared at Dare. “We need to know who she is.”

“And if she worked alone,” Jackson said.

“Doesn’t seem likely.” Silently fuming, Trace stepped up close to frown down at Alani. “What about your financier?”

Oh, hell. Jackson had forgotten all about Marc Tobin. Sitting forward, he stated, “That’s over.” Or at least it better be.

At the same time, Alani said, “I broke things off with him.”

Tension washed out of Jackson’s shoulders, leaving him with a certain sort of contentment. The persistent throbbing in his temples faded.

Trace looked from Alani to Jackson and back again. “Since when?”

“A little more than a week ago.”

A whole week? And she hadn’t come to him right away? Damn, had she been grieving over the breakup?

“Did you give him a reason?” Dare wanted to know.

“None of your business.”

Trace brought her chin back around. “Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe you don’t know how this works, but under the circumstances, we need to hear everything. It’s the only way we can really analyze the potential danger.”

“You actually think Marc could be involved?”

“He’d have reason to be furious with Jackson—or with you.”

Surprise held her silent for a heartbeat before she scoffed. “You think I’m in danger? That’s absurd. Jackson is the one who was drugged.”

Unable to hide his smirk, Trace said, “Getting all the facts is the only way we can protect Jackson, too.”

Oh, now, that burned his ass. “I don’t need—”

Before Jackson could finish protesting, Alani faltered. “But…Marc wouldn’t have had anything to do with—”

“Jackson getting doped? Probably not, so don’t get alarmed. But I want you to tell me everything anyway.”

Jackson noticed so many things—the way her lips trembled, the new tautness in her shoulders, her pallor and shallow breaths.

“Trace,” he said low. “Back off, will you?” Sure, she needed to be sheltered, but scaring her wouldn’t accomplish anything.

Trace narrowed his eyes and cupped Alani’s shoulder. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, honey. This is just a precaution.”

She swallowed hard and averted her gaze from one and all. “I told him I was thinking of seeing…someone else.”

Dare put his elbows on his knees. “You mentioned Jackson to him?”

“No, of course not.” She shook her head. “That would have been needlessly rude.”

Since Alani was the epitome of graciousness, Trace accepted that explanation. “Did anyone know you were coming to see Jackson yesterday?”

“Jackson knew.”

Doing a double take, Jackson asked, “I did?”

“I called you.” Her sad smile came and went. “But I suppose you’ve forgotten that, too. I called you before leaving work.”

“Anyone overhear that call?” Dare asked.

“I was in my office, so I doubt it.” And then, head high and shoulders back, she turned to leave the room. “I’m going to put on coffee.”

“Alani…” Knowing the idea of danger had shaken her, Jackson started to stand.

“No.” She stopped him by raising an imperious hand. She pointed a finger at the food she’d brought him and gave a succinct order. “Eat.”

No one gave him orders.

Jackson considered her. She’d left her rich boyfriend in the dust. She’d freely defended him to her brother.

She’d slept with him, whether he remembered it or not.

Overall, he was pretty damn happy with her, so he gave her a salute. “Yes, darlin’. Whatever you say.”