“Tessa, come on. Lie down.”

Only a moment ago she’d been holding it together just fine, and then Reilly had to bring that long, sleekly muscled body of his close. Didn’t he know what that magnificent near nudity did to a woman?

Tessa shook her head, not sure whether she was refusing his command or trying to rid herself of the images his husky voice brought to mind. Images of hot summer nights, satin sheets and wild, sweet lovemaking…

Reilly took matters into his own hands. He led her to the cot and helped her sit. “Just lie down, right here.”

His head was bent close to hers…his lips definitely within kissing distance. The room shrank in size until it was just about the two of them, their breaths mingling.

“So, tell me, Reilly.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “If I lie down, do I get a good-night kiss?”

Dear Reader,

It’s Harlequin Temptation’s twentieth birthday and we’re ready to do some celebrating. After all, we’re young, we’re legal (well, almost) and we’re old enough to get into trouble! Who could resist?

We’ve been publishing outstanding novels for the past twenty years, and there are many more where those came from. Don’t miss upcoming books by your favorite authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson, Kate Hoffmann, Kristine Rolofson, Jill Shalvis and Leslie Kelly. And Harlequin Temptation has always offered talented new authors to add to your collection. In the next few months look for stories from some of these exciting new finds: Emily McKay, Tanya Michaels, Cami Dalton and Mara Fox.

To celebrate our birthday, we’re bringing back one of our most popular miniseries, Editor’s Choice. Whenever we have a book that’s new, innovative, extraordinary, look for the Editor’s Choice flash. And the first one’s out this month! In Cover Me, talented Stephanie Bond tells the hilarious tale of a native New Yorker who finds herself out of her element and loving it. Written totally in the first person, Cover Me is a real treat. And don’t miss the rest of this month’s irresistible offerings—a naughty Wrong Bed book by Jill Shalvis, another installment of the True Blue Calhouns by Julie Kistler and a delightful Valentine tale by Kate Hoffmann.

So, come be a part of the next generation of Harlequin Temptation. We might be a little wild, but we’re having a whole lot of fun. And who knows—some of the thrill might rub off….

Enjoy,

Brenda Chin

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Temptation

Back in the Bedroom
Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR…

I love books where the hero and heroine are forced into proximity right from the get-go. So I really had fun with this heroine who walks into a burglary and ends up locked in a tiny room with a tall, gorgeous man without his clothes. Tessa and Reilly have one thing in common—they want out. Only, a little thing happens along the way…this almost unbearable attraction.

I feel really fortunate to be included in the twentieth anniversary along with some good friends. Happy birthday, Temptation!

Happy reading,

Jill Shalvis

P.S. I love to hear from readers! Visit my Web site at www.jillshalvis.com.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

1

TESSA DELACANTRO ALWAYS PAID her taxes, ate at least one serving of fruit or veggies a day and generally was a rule follower. But that didn’t mean she didn’t yearn for adventure.

In fact, she yearned a lot.

It was why she’d agreed to watch her boss’s posh house in La Canada for the weekend while he took his latest fling to Cabo San Lucas.

Tessa had her own place but it didn’t have ten thousand square feet or cable or even a degree of poshness, so she looked forward to living like the rich and famous for two nights. As an Art History major without a lot of prospects in the field, she’d spent the past few years as an office clerk here and there, doing some accounting, doing some secretarial work, learning how to run Microsoft programs without crashing anyone’s system.

What she hadn’t done was figure out how to work in any of that adventure and excitement she wanted, but this was California, Southern California, to boot. The land of opportunity. She was open to anything, and liked to keep her options free. She had high hopes for her latest job as a temp in an agency run by the colorful Eddie Ledger. The sharp, debonair, electrifying man had a myriad of businesses in his empire, most of which ran themselves, leaving him free to do things like go to Cabo on a whim.

She could get into that lifestyle. She parked her car at the top of Eddie’s long, curvy driveway, which protected the Tudor-style mansion from view of the street. It had a beautiful yellow-and-white front, with flowers everywhere, lining the grass and steps to the porch.

Letting herself in with the key Eddie had given her, she dropped her purse and keys on the tiled foyer that was bigger than her entire apartment and sighed. From here she could see the large living room and so many windows showing off stunning views of the Angeles Crest Mountains she felt a little dizzy.

Or maybe it was a lack of food. She’d come right from a long day of work and hadn’t yet grabbed dinner, so she headed in, looking for the kitchen. Eddie wouldn’t mind—her tall, dark and outrageously handsome boss had told her to help herself. He might be as sly as a fox and extremely fond of women, but when it came to his employees, he was sweet and warm and extremely kind.

The kitchen took her breath away. She took in the custom-made maple cabinetry, the granite counters and the Sub-Zero maple-faced fridge. The secret chef inside her salivated.

Her own kitchen could have fit inside the brand-spanking-new Russell six-burner range. If she wasn’t so tired, she’d run back out to the grocery store and get a bunch of exciting ingredients, then come back and cook away. It’d be fun if she had a date to cook for, but she didn’t. Maybe she’d call her sister to come over and they’d watch the new 007 movie. They could sigh and eat, eat and sigh….

Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the granite tiles, warm from the setting sun beaming in through the myriad of windows here, too. She reached for the handle on the fridge, just to get a quick snack, but hesitated at the loud thump that definitely wasn’t her stomach growling. With a frown, she headed out of the kitchen, back into the huge, open living room, and looked down the wide, oak-lined hallway that arched off to the left and vanished.

Someone was down there.

The maid, maybe, but Tessa wasn’t sure Eddie had a maid. In any case, she wasn’t going to take any chances. La Canada residents were snooty and into their privacy. This house was no exception. Heavily wooded and a bit secluded, she could scream until the cows came home and no one would hear. At home in Glendale—only a few minutes from here, but a world away as far as neighborhoods went—she’d have grabbed her trusty baseball bat and the phone to call the police.

No baseball bat here, and at first glance around the fancy place, she couldn’t even find a telephone. But she’d seen plenty of horror flicks in her twenty-six years, and had no intention of being the stupid chick. She’d just get out of the house and then call the police.

The front door seemed extremely far away so she whirled to the sliding glass door behind her instead. But she stopped short when she remembered she’d left her keys on the foyer floor with her purse. She needed those keys for an escape.

And then came another thump.

Spooked, she started running toward the foyer. Track had been her least-favorite sport, but she managed to move like lightning. Funny what fear did for motivation. Ten-thousand square feet was suddenly far too much space, and she felt grateful for her perpetual poverty and six-hundred square feet of closed-in apartment that would have only taken a blink of an eye to run through—

“Excuse me.”

The male voice sounded so polite, coming from behind her, that she actually stopped short and looked over her shoulder.

And faced a man carrying a DVD player. He looked to be twenty-something, and wore jeans and a grungy white thermal shirt on his large, beefy body. With a grimace, he set down the DVD player and straightened. “Another visitor. Terrific.” He cracked his knuckles and suddenly looked exceptionally big and menacing. He gestured with a jerk of his chin toward the back of the house. “Okay, sweetcakes, let’s go.”

She took a step back and shook her head.

He sent a frustrated glance heavenward. “Why me? Look, just tell me you’re not a martial arts expert like the other guy.”

She eyed the growing bruise on his cheekbone and took another careful step backward. Gee, only fifty more and she’d make it. “What are you doing here while Eddie’s out of town?”

“I’m here to mess the place up.” His voice was pure annoyance. A put-out bear of a man. “And I get to take whatever I want while I’m at it. Those are my orders. If he’s out of town, so much the better.”

“G-go ahead, I’ll…just wait outside.” She took another step, wondering if he could see that she was shaking like a leaf. Forty-nine more steps…

He shook his big head. “Don’t even bother. We both know I’m not going to let you go until I’m done here and long gone, so I’ll repeat myself. This way.”

Step forty-eight—

“Goddammit.” He lumbered after her.

Whirling, she ordered her feet to move. Forty-seven, forty-six— An arm hooked around her neck, hauling her back against a rock-hard body, withholding her inherent right to breathe. She opened her mouth to scream, but he slapped a hand against her mouth and nose—she definitely wasn’t breathing any time soon. Lifting her off her feet, he started walking.

Spots danced in front of her eyes. Out of pure desperation for air, she reached back and grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Ouch! Holy shit, lady!” He gripped her wrist and jerked it down, squeezing her neck at the same time.

Her head was going to pop right off. The spots blossomed into full Technicolor, and now she had an aching wrist to go with them as he dragged her along, back through the kitchen. Her life passed in front of her eyes; her mom and dad, her sister and brother, her cute little apartment where she cooked, read, lived…and then without warning he let go of her and shoved.

She landed on a hard tile floor and spent a moment on her hands and knees concentrating on dragging air into her lungs. A door slammed and she jerked her head up. It was nearly dark outside now and there wasn’t a light on in the small room she found herself in, which was maybe eight feet by eight feet. But there did appear to be a floodlight right outside the very small window on the far wall. Thank goodness for timers, she thought, and tried not to panic. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was gray and bare. The only piece of furniture in the place was a narrow cot—

Oh God. A narrow cot that was filled with the prone body of a man wearing nothing but black knit boxers. Long, sleek and powerful, there wasn’t an inch of excess on him. Even in the meager light she could see he was sinewy, lean and hard, and she took him all in, including the myriad of interesting scars like the long, jagged one on his right pec, and another small puckered one—like a bullet wound?—low on his flat, corrugated belly.

Still breathing like a misused racehorse, still shaky, she stared at him as he groaned, slowly sat up and blinked.

So did she, because he was the spitting image of her boss—the forty-nine-year-old, gorgeous Eddie Ledger—only younger and far more serious than she’d ever seen the perpetually smiling Eddie—

He staggered to his feet and put a hand to the back of his head, then pulled it away and stared at his fingers, which came away sticky with…she blinked in the dim light. Blood. Oh God. She really didn’t do well with blood—

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Given the force of his voice, he wasn’t mortally injured. And given the incredible sharpness of his eyes and body, he wasn’t the type to be easily laid flat. She stood there uneasily, not sure who were the good guys and who were the bad. But this man, this six-foot-tall, lean, mean, nearly naked fighting machine looked so much like her boss….

His laser, light-blue eyes looked her over, then met her gaze, and she swallowed hard. Had she really thought he looked like Eddie? Maybe the dark, spiky hair, the see-through eyes, the lean, shadowed jaw were the same, but even though she’d never seen Eddie nearly naked, she doubted he had such a hard, muscled, sleek look to him. He’d certainly never looked so intense, so unsmiling, so utterly edgy and terrifying in the month she’d been working for him.

Suddenly her last job, doing payroll for a local YMCA, didn’t seem so bad. If only they hadn’t had to reduce their staff, if only she hadn’t been the low person on the totem pole, if only…

“Who are you?” he repeated in that low, husky voice that would have resembled Eddie’s, if it didn’t have all the fury in it.

“T-Tessa Delacantro.” For the second time in a few minutes, she backed to a door. The handle hit her fingers and she jerked at it, but it didn’t budge.

“It’s locked, and like everything else in the house, it’s the best money can buy so it can’t be broken,” Eddie’s evil twin said.

She tried it again anyway, still eyeing him carefully. How many times had her sister told her ninety-nine percent of all men were scum? Not that she’d ever listened.

If she ever got out of here, she’d listen to Carolyn. Always.

He had one hand propped up against the wall as he contemplated her with an enigmatic expression that was probably supposed to be polite, not terrifying.

But he didn’t have the facial features for polite, not with those shocking light eyes and harsh frown. “What are you doing here?”

She tried not to stare, but it wasn’t every day she was so up close and personal to a nearly naked man while shaking in fear. In fact, she was hardly ever this close to a nearly naked man, scared or otherwise. “I’m watching the house for the weekend,” she said. “But…Eddie?”

A short, rough laugh escaped him at that, a sound that had nothing to do with mirth. “No.”

Her heart was flinging itself against her ribs so hard it was amazing they hadn’t all cracked. “Um…” She swallowed hard. “Eddie’s brother? Eddie’s…twin brother?”

His go-to-hell eyes frosted over. “No. I’m Reilly.” Body taut with tension, arms crossed now—which delineated his hard contours in interesting ways, not that she was noticing—he let out a breath. “His son.”

Eddie had told her he had a son, but by the indulgent smile on his face when he’d mentioned him, Tessa had imagined a little boy, certainly someone far younger than thirtyish and not quite so mind-bogglingly magnificent. “But—” She let out a sound of pure confusion and eyed the window. The place had been built on a hill, and naturally, she was hillside and at least forty feet up.

She looked at Reilly again. His stance implied strength and an innate confidence she could only dream of. There was no doubt, this man was in complete control of himself, even injured and half-naked.

Apparently unconcerned with that nakedness, he moved toward her. She flinched back against the door, but he kept coming, and took the hand she’d unconsciously held to her still-raw and aching throat.

Slowly but inexorably he pulled her hand up and stared at what he’d exposed.

Impossibly, his eyes hardened even more. “They hurt you, too.” He ran a finger over her skin then lifted his gaze to hers. “You were to watch the house for Eddie?”

“Yes.”

He made a rough sound. “That figures.”

“Figures how?”

“He favors the young and innocent.”

The words “young and innocent” came out as if those were the most irritating traits a person could have. How many times had she been told she looked ten years younger than her twenty-six? Plenty. So she looked young, big deal. Did people always have to use the word innocent when describing her?

She really resented the hell out of that.

“You interrupted them,” he guessed, and grimaced with what actually might have been concern. Then he took her other hand as well, the one she’d been cradling to her belly because her wrist still hurt, and turned it over to expose the mottled bruising already appearing there. He lifted his gaze and held hers for a long moment. “Where else did they get you?”

“Nowhere.”

Still holding her wrist, he looked her over thoroughly, and she let him because she didn’t feel up to doing anything else.

Besides, he had the air of a man well used to being in charge, the kind of man others would look to in a crisis. The kind of man that would be annoying in everyday life because of it.

Alpha male at its finest. And she preferred beta men. This guy didn’t appear to have a sensitive, compassionate bone in his body. He certainly didn’t feel the need to charm and cajole, or make everyone smile around him as his father did. He simply didn’t have the same easy warmth and charisma.

And in truth, he actually seemed far more dangerous than the thug who’d thrown her in here. She wondered how anyone had ever managed to hurt him, because all that carefully restrained strength was intimidating as hell. He must have been ambushed, and she doubted he’d gone down easily.

And yet the way he was looking her over for unseen injuries softened something inside her, just a little, at least until he touched the back of his head again and cursed, which made her jump. “You’re bleeding,” she said inanely.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you take a heavy, ridiculously overpriced vase to the head.”

He had been ambushed. “Sit down. Please—”

“I’m fine.”

Well, he was indeed pretty darn fine, but wasn’t it just like a man not to admit when he was hurt. She turned back to the door and wriggled the handle again. It still didn’t give. At least her legs had stopped shaking. “Maybe we can somehow stop him, before he cleans Eddie out—”

“Are you kidding? No one can clean Eddie out, he’s got more money than God.”

“Well, we can’t just stand here.” She leaned against the door in frustration. This place was her responsibility this weekend and she took that responsibility seriously. “That guy said his job was to mess this place up. Maybe we can bang on the door, make nuisances of ourselves, until he comes back down here. Then one of us can distract him while the other—”

“You’re as crazy as Eddie.” He rubbed the back of his neck and let out a mirthless laugh. “And here’s a news flash. There’s four of them, all apparently intent on getting good old Dad’s toys, of which he has many.”

“Four?”

“I took two of them out and was working on the third when the last one knocked me on the head from behind.” He gritted his teeth, his jaw tight. “I’d have gotten him, too, but they caught me distracted.”

Tessa’s mouth had fallen open. There’d been four of them. And he’d taken out three.

By himself.

She eyed his bare chest only inches from her nose and tried not to ogle. “So you’re the martial arts expert the guy was grumbling about.”

He nodded.

“What happened to your clothes?”

He looked away. “When I hit the floor, they found my gun.”

“Your…gun.”

“And then they strip-searched me for more weapons.”

She could only stare at him. She’d imagined him dangerous. Edgy. But…armed? “Wow.”

He ground his teeth but didn’t say anything else.

“Four,” she repeated softly.

“And now two of them are armed,” he said. “Courtesy of moi. So even if we could distract them and bring them back this way, it’s not the wisest move. Unless you’re wearing a bulletproof vest…? No?” he asked when she shook her head. “See, bad move.” Gingerly, as if he had a headache, which he no doubt did, he sank back to the cot.

“Who would do this?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Your guess is as good as mine. Eddie certainly has plenty of enemies.”

How was that possible? The Eddie she knew wouldn’t harm a fly. “So we’re just going to stand here and wait for them to decide we’re not exactly an asset?”

“I’m not going to stand.” He lay back, put his feet up, and closed his eyes.

She stared at him. “You’re not serious.”

He drew in a deep breath, and, as if they were attached to his body by strings, her eyes followed the motion of his broad chest rising and falling, followed the way his six-pack belly caved in, and how his knit boxers lovingly cupped his…package.

And, oh my, what a package.

A little shocked at herself, she turned her back on him. “I can’t believe this.” She took a good look around the small, spartan room. There was nothing in it but the cot, and yet the rest of the house was so absolutely beautifully done. It was strange. “Where are we anyway?”

“The servants’ quarters.”

She turned around to look at him, but he hadn’t budged nor opened his eyes. “Did you grow up here?”

“No.”

“Did you—”

“How many more questions do you figure you have, because I’d like to sleep off this headache.”

She’d been manhandled, terrified and trapped, and she could deal with that. But it would have been nice if it’d happened with a warmer, more compassionate man, a man who put others’ needs and fears ahead of his own need for a nap.

Certainly someone more in touch with his own emotions.

In other words, this man’s polar opposite. “You shouldn’t go to sleep,” she said, unable to just ignore him. She had a feeling he could be fully dressed and she still wouldn’t be able to ignore him. “You could be concussed.”

He didn’t answer. His body took up the entire cot and more, a good portion of his long legs were hanging off the cot. His wide shoulders barely fit onto the thin mattress.

But what if she’d wanted to lie down? What then? She’d have to be snuggled right up against all that bare sinewy flesh.

Not that he’d even care, as he appeared to not have given her a second thought. Wasn’t that ever so flattering? “Are you really going to sleep?”

“Shhh.”

Unbelievable. She watched him breathe slowly and evenly for another moment before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Sleep.” Without a care to her own possible fears and pain. Wasn’t that just like an alpha?

She eyed the room again. The window was still too small, with no fire escape or way to climb down. Interestingly enough though, there appeared to be an attic access in the ceiling, a decent-sized one, too. Not that she could reach it alone, but they had to get out. Maybe if he helped— “Reilly?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “What?”

“I have another option than sleep.”

He opened his eyes, the look in them blatantly sexual. “Oh, yeah?”

Oh boy, definitely alpha. Extremely alpha. So why his low, husky tone and those suggestive words made her body tingle, she hadn’t a clue.

“What did you have in mind?” His voice dripped an earthy sensuality.

“Uh…” Oddly enough, the only thing she had in mind right now was X-rated. “I forgot.”

His gaze ran over her from head to toe, flared with heat, shocking her, before he closed his eyes. “Okay, then.”

Okay, then.

2

REILLY DRIFTED off pleasantly, to a place where his head didn’t hurt and he was wearing clothes—

“Reilly.” This extremely loud whisper was accompanied by a shove at his shoulder.

She was ba-a-ack. His father’s latest fling, the petite pixie with the shoulder-length brown hair and mossy-green eyes that flashed her every thought for the world to see.

Was she even of legal age?

“Reilly?”

He had no idea why she bothered to whisper, when she was doing it so loudly she could have woken the dead.

“I think you should wake up now,” she said, and added another teeth-rattling shake. “Come on. Get up and count to ten or something.”

Honest to God, the woman talked more than any woman he’d ever met.

“Just to make sure you don’t go into a coma.” Another shake. “It’s only been five minutes but I can’t remember how long you’re supposed to let someone with a bleeding head injury sleep.”

“I’m not in a coma,” he said with his eyes still closed. It wasn’t really sleep he was interested in, but a way to pass the time other than looking at the oddly sweet and sexy Tessa. “And my head is no longer bleeding.”

“I still don’t think you should sleep.”

All those years in the army and then the CIA, one thing had stuck with him—how to catch quality Zs in five short little minutes. He’d rather have had longer than five minutes. Say the whole night, so the time would have passed painlessly, but slowly he opened his eyes, staring into her wide green ones. “I’m fine.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” She wriggled three in front of his nose.

He grabbed them. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

“Fine enough to go up the attic access in the ceiling? I think it has good escape potential.”

In the meager but adequate light he took in her slight little form bending over him, her hand on his chest. Not that he minded a woman’s fingers on him, but his head felt like it was going to roll right off his shoulders. And if she shoved him one more time, yet again jarring his head, he was going to roll her pretty little body beneath his to hold her still. “Escape potential,” he repeated, and she smiled at him and nodded.

“All you have to do is climb up. Then shimmy your way through whatever is up there, and drop down through another access in another room. Voilà, escape. I know you said you didn’t grow up here, but you could probably find a phone, right?”

He’d had his cell on him, before he’d made the mistake of actually coming here to see Eddie. Before he’d knocked out three of the four idiots, then realized too late there was one more idiot behind him. Suddenly, he’d seen stars from the hit with a vase probably worth enough to feed a small country.

Which made him the idiot.

And to think, all he’d wanted was to tell his father to knock it off, to stop sending sexy little temps to his office and to stop sending him messages to come visit.

Instead, he’d ended up on the wrong end of a strip search, being held hostage by his own gun no less. He, a guy who knew how to kill a man in more ways than he could count, had been taken down by a few punks with a vendetta against his father.

If that didn’t bite, watching them mess with his gun while he sat in his shorts sure did. And if that didn’t also say how much he’d lost his edge, how dead-on-target his decision had been to get out of the CIA, he didn’t know what did.

He supposed it could have been worse.

They could have killed him.

“Can you? Find a phone?”

The cute young thing was still talking. He let out a long breath and opened his eyes. “Probably.”

“So…will you?”

“No.”

She blinked. “What?”

“No,” he repeated clearly.

“But…why not?”

“Because it’s dark.”

She eyed him from head to toe, making him glad he’d been allowed to keep his shorts because for some reason, even though she drove him crazy, his body didn’t seem to want to agree with his brain on that assessment.

“The dark shouldn’t bother a guy like you,” she finally said.

Think again, sweetheart. “I’ll go at daylight.”

“But…”

“Daylight. Now…was there something you wanted to do to pass the time?”

“No,” she squeaked.

“Fine.” He tried to forget he was stuck with one of his father’s babes. She looked like heaven, he’d give her that, but she talked too much. At the ripe old age of thirty-one, Reilly had come to realize he liked women, he liked them a lot, but he liked them quiet, reserved and controlled…much like himself, actually.

But this one couldn’t be quiet to save her life, much less be restrained and controlled. She was pacing the floor right this very second. “We’re not going to get out of here for a few hours, so you might as well stop wearing a hole in that tile.”

She stopped and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

And in truth, maybe he had. Certainly the old Reilly would have gotten up and rescued the damsel in distress.

The new Reilly, no longer of CIA, no longer of anything or anyone else except Reilly Ledger of Accountant-4-Hire, his small accounting firm with clients as reclusive as he was. He pushed papers around when and how he felt like it, didn’t take orders from anyone but himself, and never, ever rescued damsels in distress.

Unless it was accounting-related, and, in that case, he charged by the hour.

She put her hands on her hips, a gesture it appeared she used a lot to compensate for being so short, but it did draw his attention to her mid-thigh sundress. It was pale-green with flowers on it and was actually quite demure, except that every time she moved it danced around her tanned, toned legs.

Very distracting, those legs.

“There’s no good reason why we have to stay in here,” she said.

“Other than we’re trapped?”

“Honestly, all you have to do is crawl through—”

“I said no.”

She crossed her arms, plumping up the breasts he imagined could use a little plumping. “Give me one good reason other than you won’t be able to see.”

He stretched, and winced at the ache at the base of his skull. “That’s the reason.”

She stared at him, then tilted her head up and eyed the access, which was indeed wide enough for his body, and indeed a most excellent escape route. “You can’t be afraid of the dark.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t buy it. That would make you a sensitive man, and frankly, I’m not getting a lot of sensitivity here.”

“You’re not getting out tonight.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to do it. I will.” She dropped her arms and straightened, visibly swallowing while she mustered up all her courage. If he hadn’t been pissed and hurting, he might have admired her.

“Boost me up,” she said.

From flat on his back, he laughed, his first all night. “Let me get this straight. You’ll go crawling through the attic in the pitch dark, drop into a room you don’t know, possibly into the waiting arms of the guy I didn’t knock out, and then what? Let them have another stab at you?”

Her determined expression faltered, and the terror came through. “You’re right,” she whispered. “This is really serious, and I think it’s just hitting me. I’m sorry.” Then she blinked those wide, expressive eyes and hugged herself. He felt like a jerk.

He closed his eyes. “You’re just going to have to wait. Eddie will figure out you’re missing and come looking for you.”

“He’s in Cabo with his girlfriend for two days.”

That had his eyes opening again. “I thought you, Statutory Rape Lawsuit Walking, were the girlfriend.”

“You— I—” She sputtered, then laughed. She laughed hard and so genuinely, he actually felt the knot loosen in his belly because she was being honest, which meant his father hadn’t seduced this woman who was too cute and too young for him.

“I’m twenty-six years old,” she finally informed him. “Quite legal. And not that this is any of your business, but I am not your father’s girlfriend. I work in his temp agency.”

“Ah.” He didn’t want to think about why that made him feel a lot better, so he closed his eyes again.

A thunk sounded and with a sigh, he cracked open an eye. Looking small and defenseless, she’d sat on the floor against the far wall, beside the locked door, still hugging herself. Her knees were up, her head down on her arms.

Fine. That was a good place for her, far away from him, with her mouth thankfully shut for once.

He might have been able to pretend he was somewhere else other than lying on a damn cot with no clothes and a bump on the back of his head…if she hadn’t shivered.

He closed his eyes against it but he could have sworn he could hear her teeth rattling together. “Damn it. Get over here.”

She lifted her head, and in the glow from the light outside the window, he saw her expression. Gone was the temporary bravado. Gone were all signs that she was holding up under what even he could admit had been a fairly traumatizing experience. Wet now, her eyes were the color of rain-soaked leaves, and her mouth trembled. The bruises on her throat had blossomed.

Hell. “You all right?”

“Give me a minute.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know I’m talking, talking, talking, but that’s nerves and fear. I’ll try to stop, I promise.”

Slowly he sat up. No dizziness, which he figured was a good thing, so he risked standing. Barefoot, bare everything except the essentials, he took the few steps that brought him close. “You take the cot.”

She stared at his knees and shook her head.

“Tessa.”

She ignored him. Since he’d been trying to ignore her for half an hour now, he understood and appreciated the sentiment. But it was possible she was going into delayed shock, and that even he couldn’t ignore, as his training was too ingrained. He hunkered down beside her and, wanting to check her pulse, reached for her wrist.

Startled, she jerked back and into the wall, crying out at the contact and wincing away from him at the same time.

“Go away,” she whispered, mortified to find her eyes spilling over. But he’d scared her, and she really hated that. Before tonight, nothing had scared her.

“Hey.” Lifting his hands, watching her from those light, light eyes, he spoke softly. “It’s just me.”

“I know.” And she did, but it was just that for one bad moment, she’d been transported back into Eddie’s living room, back to that guy in the dirty long underwear shirt, and he’d been reaching for her—

Reilly took her hand. “Just me,” he repeated very quietly.

“I know that.”

“I want you to lie down and try to relax.”

“Relax.” She bit back her hysterical laughter. “Sure. I’ll relax.”

“Great, because you’re wound up tighter than a clock.”

“Yes, well, this hasn’t been exactly a good day.”

“I know.” He contemplated her in silence for a while. “Are you cold?”

Yes. She was cold. And hungry. And tired. And, apparently, letting this whole situation really get to her.

“Come on,” he said. Still on his knees before her, he wriggled his fingers, clearly indicating she could take his hand.

Tessa closed her eyes. She didn’t want to take his hand. She wanted to crawl in a hole and have a meltdown. She wanted to be alone while doing it, thank you very much. “Go to sleep,” she said.

“I can’t do that now,” said the contrary man.

Of course not. Because heaven forbid one thing go her way tonight.

3

“TESSA, COME ON. Lie down.”

Only a moment ago she’d been holding it together just fine, and then Reilly had to come close with that long, sleekly muscled body glowing in the faint light and go all sweet and sensitive on her.

Ha! As if he could ever even pretend to be sweet and sensitive.

“Come on,” he said gently. Gently.

Didn’t he know that was how to break a woman down—show a tender insight and perception, along with near nudity so magnificent it made her mouth water?

“Tessa?”

And the way he said her name in that low, husky voice… It brought to mind hot summer nights and satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking.

Not that she knew much about hot summer nights combined with satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking, but a girl had her fantasies.

And he was a walking fantasy.

Taking her hand in his, he rose. “Up you go.” He led her to the cot with a hand at the small of her back. As if he was kind and compassionate. “Lie down right here.”

No questions at the end of his sentences, not for Reilly. Nope, he never said, “Okay?” or “Would you like?” He was a guy, through and through, and an extremely confident one at that. Not to mention demanding, because really, why ask when clearly he knew everything?

“Tess. Lie down.”

He shortened her name. No one else had ever done that, and it seemed…extremely intimate, and on his lips, almost unbearably sexy.

Suddenly the room felt so small, too small. She needed wide open space and she needed it now. Forget adventure, had she ever said she wanted adventure like this? No! She wanted her cozy little apartment, her sister’s nightly visit bearing ice cream and a good movie. Maybe a call from her brother just to say hi.

“Sit.”

She shivered again—what was the matter with her? She was safe, she was fine, and now she was going to fall apart? But she sat on the cot. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, and didn’t have any covers on it. “I don’t understand this room,” she said, and shivered again, knowing she was talking out of nervous reaction, but unable to help herself. “The rest of the house is so beautiful and warm and comfortable.”

Reilly looked around him and shrugged. “For all Eddie’s wild and extravagant living, he doesn’t like servants—it’s the subservient thing, I guess. At least ones who don’t sleep in his bedroom. Fixing this room would be a waste of his time, he probably never even uses it.”

He talked about Eddie as though he didn’t like him. She didn’t understand that either. “Your father is a wonderful man.”

“What does that have to do with the fact he goes through women like some of us go through water?”

Since she couldn’t deny that, she lay down and curled on her side facing away from him. “I’m not a bed hog. You can have half.”

“It’s not big enough.”

Fine. No skin off her nose. Tessa planned to lie there and wait for dawn, but the late hour, combined with her heavy workweek, not to mention the evening’s events, had taken a greater toll than she’d imagined, and miraculously, she drifted off…

Only to dream about being grabbed from behind, about the thick, muscled forearm cutting off her air—

She jerked straight off the cot and gasped for the breath to scream but when she blinked into focus the small, rather dark room and the silent man standing there propping up the far wall, she sagged.

“Just a dream,” he said.

Imagine that.

“Go back to sleep.”

Right. She sat down, and realized she was chilled to the bone.

“Sleep,” he said. “Not sit.”

“I’m cold.”

He tipped his head back and glanced at the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. He moved forward until his knees bumped the cot. “There’s no blanket.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself and kept her eyes straight ahead, which landed them…oh, only about eye level with the best-looking male stomach ever.

“Lie down.”

She had no idea why she obeyed him, but with another shiver, she did, and then went flat onto her back, where she held her breath as he lowered himself onto the cot as well. He lay on his side facing her. He held up his head with his hand, setting his other very lightly on her stomach.

Her belly quivered. Other parts did, too, and she looked for a diversion. She found it in the closed access above them. If only he’d just climb up there—

His fingers tightened on her and he leaned in, just a little. “Sleep.”

Right. Since his broad shoulders, chest and amazing eyes filled her vision, she closed her eyes. Only problem, without a visual, her other senses kicked in. His scent came to her, a little soapy, a little woodsy and a lot male. His heat and strength seemed to seep into her chilled bones and, helplessly, she relaxed a bit, because maybe, just maybe, he really was kind and sweet and sensitive behind all that…

“You don’t snore do you?”

Her eyes flew open. “No. Do you?”

“No.” He lowered his head to the cot and closed his eyes.

Hmm. New problem. Now their faces were only an inch apart. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, she guessed, given the shadow on his lean jaw. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes. A complete waste on a man, especially this man. There was a white jagged scar running along one eyebrow, another high on his forehead. Where had he gotten such scars? His nose was long and straight, his mouth fixed in a grim, hard line. His dark hair was so short it stood straight up, and she imagined he rarely bothered with a comb. She wondered if it was soft or—

“Are you going to think this loudly all night?” he asked, but then another shiver wracked her and he let out a long breath. “Okay, but only in the name of shared body heat…” He gripped her around the waist and tugged, turning her at the same time, until she was snuggled firmly against him, her spine to his chest, the backs of her legs to the front of his and all the spots in between perfectly aligned. All in the “name of shared body heat.”

Oh boy.

She tried to go to sleep, she really did. It proved an impossibility while she was holding her breath as she was. Behind her, Reilly lay utterly silent, utterly still, not pressing any of his…parts…against her unduly.

And she’d already noticed he had parts. Oh my, did he have parts.

Scooting free so that she could roll onto her back and look at him, she instantly wished she hadn’t. He was so close, and so warm and well…sexy as hell.

And also annoyed, very annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that…it’s all hitting me.” She was horrified to hear her voice waver and blamed it on adrenaline. Anyone would be feeling it, she assured herself. “It’s making my mind rush and my body shake, and I hate that. I don’t mean to keep you up, but I can’t stop wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“Are they still out there, and what if they decide to come back—”

He put a finger to her lips and waited. When she didn’t try to talk around him, his mouth curved. “There. See if you can hold still, just like that.”

She grabbed his wrist and freed her mouth. “I realize that you can turn off the feelings and emotions with ease, but I can’t. I’m scared, if you want the truth, and I’m feeling a little claustrophobic here. I want…”

His eyes heated. “What?”

“Comfort,” she whispered, and trembled again, her body betraying her, which really made her mad.

A sigh rumbled from him and he settled one big hand at her hip and pulled her closer. There. The comfort she’d wanted. Yet with him looking down at her with that disconcerting gaze, with his body so close, so big and warm and unintentionally sexy—and it was unintentional, she knew he wasn’t trying to drive her crazy—what she felt was far, far from comfort. In an almost out-of-body experience, she whispered his name in a voice no longer quivering with trepidation but with something else entirely.

Something that felt shockingly like…hunger. Need.

She had no idea what was happening to her but it was so much better than being afraid. Infinitely better than the cold. She came up onto her side, so that they were once again body-to-body, only now face-to-face. Reaching up, she slowly slid her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him closer.

His fingers, in the act of gently skimming up and down her hip in the name of shared body heat and comfort, froze. “Tess—”

If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. If it was indeed an out-of-body experience, she wouldn’t complain, but something made her put her mouth to the very corner of his.

He held perfectly still. Unnaturally still but she didn’t care. The connection of their mouths had spread warmth through her like nothing else ever had, so she nibbled at the other side, too. Adrenaline? Fear? She didn’t know, didn’t care, because the ball of warmth deep inside her started smoking now. To stoke it into a full-blown fire, she opened her mouth and took his bottom lip in her teeth.

This wrenched a deep rumble from his throat, a warning from the beast, which should have stopped her, would have in any other place and time, but not tonight.

“Tessa. This is—”

Crazy. She knew that. Just as she knew it was the events of the night making her feel this way, but she didn’t care. She settled her mouth on his, hoping he’d give into it, too, so that she wasn’t the only fool.

But Reilly was still rigid, holding himself back with a restraint that she’d admire another time. For now she arched against him, enough to know that his thin shorts couldn’t hide what he was beginning to feel.

“Tess—” he growled with unmistakable warning.

Nope, she didn’t want him to talk. Not now. She opened her lips and touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth, and in doing so, finally, finally unleashed the beast.

He dove headfirst into the kiss then, wrapping his arms around her body and bringing it more snugly to his, thrusting a muscled thigh between hers, opening his mouth wide for a hot, deep, wet kiss that would surely highlight her dreams instead of the nightmares this day had afforded her.

Oh, yes, this was perfect. This was just what the doctor had ordered for her shock. She slid her fingers into his hair, taking notice that it was soft, as not very much else of him was. Her other hand went on a tour of his tight shoulders and solid chest, feeling the smooth glide of muscle beneath skin, and she knew if she had all night it wouldn’t be long enough.

Given how he held her, with the fingers of one hand spread wide, holding her head for the sexy forays of his plundering tongue, Reilly felt the same. His other hand skimmed over her hip, her belly and ribs, so that his long fingers rested just beneath her breast.

More, she thought. She had to have more, she had to feel his touch. Straining against him, she slid down an inch, just enough to have those fingers of his brushing the very underside of her breast, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.

At the sound, he moved of his own accord, cupping her breast in his big hand, rasping his thumb over her nipple and making her toes curl.

She wanted out of her clothes and she wanted him out of his. She wanted to be skin-to-skin, wanted to feel all his impressive strength and heat against her so that she could forget what had happened to her earlier, what could still happen.

Just thinking it made her let out a little cry, and he pulled her closer. “Shh,” he murmured. “Just me. Just you and me…” He danced a hand up her spine, then down again, until she relaxed into him once more, until she was clinging and back on her way to the mindlessness she needed desperately. Then he had her bottom cupped in his palm, pressing her against an impressive erection she wanted cradled more firmly between her aching thighs. Oh, yes.

To get more, she hooked a leg over his, opening herself up so that he could thrust against her, and he did, one glorious thrust, before he went utterly, totally, carefully still.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her mouth, his breathing not nearly as steady as it had been.

“That was quite a bedtime story,” he said, and flipped her over again, to her other side, so that she could no longer see his face.

“But…”

“Shh,” he said again.

She ground her teeth. “I can’t shh.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But…don’t you want more?”

His laugh was low and mirthless. “Hell, yes.”

“Well, then—”

“It’s not going to happen, Tess.”

“Reilly—”

He reached an arm over her shoulder and put his fingers against her mouth. “Shh.”

How could he just turn it off? She squirmed a little, and felt his erection against her bottom.

So he hadn’t just turned it off at all. “But—”

“Be good and go to sleep.”

Be good?

Go to sleep?

Was he kidding? The man kissed like no one she’d ever met, touched like no one she’d ever met, and he thought she could just turn it off and go to sleep? “Reilly…”

A soft snore sounded in her ear, making her want to scream in frustration. She couldn’t decide if she hated him or wanted him. Her body was still humming and twitching, so that meant she wanted him, but he’d firmly set her away as if it’d been nothing.

Definitely she hated him, she decided.

Eventually she set her head down on his arm and tried to follow him into slumberland. As far as pillows went, he wasn’t soft and giving, but he sure was warm and smelled like heaven.

And—this was such a terrible thought she couldn’t even believe she’d had it—she was glad he’d been stripped, because feeling his body against hers could take her mind off her troubles as nothing else could.

Unless, of course, he’d kept kissing her.

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