“Kenzie? Do you want to take a shower?”

Yes, please. In her own place with her own things and her own thick, cozy, warm bathroom and fuzzy bunny slippers. And then she’d like a good DVD and a bag of popcorn, something to give her mind a mini-vacation from its current hell. “That would be nice, thanks.”

He offered her a hand. She stared at it, and then into his face, which was solemnly watching her. “Just a hand,” he murmured.

Knowing she was a bit wobbly, she put her hand in his bigger, warmer one and let him pull her up. She staggered into him, and for a moment he held her, and caving in to her own yearning, she pressed her face to his throat and was immediately overcome with memories.

But she didn’t do memories, at least not anymore, so she forced herself to step free of him.

He led her down the hall and into what must have been his bedroom. The walls were a soft cream, which went beautifully with the cedar ceilings. But what caught her eye was the biggest bed she’d ever seen, piled high with a thick navy-blue comforter and a mountain of pillows. It was made, sort of. It was boy-made, which meant the covers had been tugged up. His hamper appeared to be a pile of clothes in the corner, but other than that, the room was as warm and clean and welcoming as the rest of the house.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. The Aidan she’d known had been rough-and-tumble tough, always cool and calm and impenetrable no matter the circumstances, which she imagined served him well in his field. She’d seen that in action on the boat and in the water.

But much like his house, he had a warm, soft, welcoming center. It was what had made him so damn likeable.

Now, with the dubious honor of a few years and some maturing, that likeability had turned into an undeniable sex appeal she discovered while standing there staring at his bed, feeling a rather inexplicable stirring deep in her belly.

“Here.” With a hand to the small of her back, he gently nudged her all the way into the room, then passed by her, his arm brushing hers as he moved into the bathroom, which was all cool, white tile and more wood trim. He flipped on the shower, which was nearly as big as his entire kitchen.

“Wow,” she said, staring at it.

He shrugged. “I like showers.”

“I remember.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. Damn, she really needed a script writer for this real-life thing.

His gaze slid to hers. Very slowly, he arched an eyebrow.

She turned away to blush in peace, but he turned her back toward him with a careful hand on her arm. “Kenzie?”

She stared at his chest, her vision a little compromised by the nice little pill she’d taken, but not so much so that she couldn’t appreciate the view. “Yeah?”

“Do we need to talk?”

Absolutely not. “No.”

She didn’t want to discuss her carnal knowledge of his love of showering. Not when she remembered, in vivid Technicolor, taking more than a few with him. She remembered, for instance, the time he’d backed her up to the shower wall in his apartment, lifting her legs around his waist, thrusting into her until she couldn’t have told him her own name. She remembered the feel of him, hot and thick inside her, remembered how it felt to be pressed between the hard wall and his harder body, the water pounding down over the top of them until she’d cried out so loudly his roommate had pounded on the bathroom door to make sure she was okay… They’d laughed so hard they’d barely been able to finish, but they’d managed.

They’d always managed.

The humbling truth was, once upon a time, he’d been able to make her come in less than three minutes, using nothing more than his mouth and his portable showerhead.

God.

Just the reminder had her beginning to sweat and her knees wobbling. And if she was being honest, there were some other even more base reactions going on. She firmly ignored them all and lifted her chin. “No. We don’t need to talk.”

He nodded very solemnly, but she would have sworn his eyes had heated, and along with that heat was a sort of wry humor.

Oh, perfect. Now he was remembering, too.

But what really cooked her goose was while she was squirming, nipples hard, thighs trembling, he was amused.

She ought to slug him. She thought about it, but just then, from the plastic hospital bag came the muffled sound of her cell ringing. Since it could only be someone she didn’t want to talk to, like her agent wanting her to get in line for auditions before everyone else from her show snatched up all the jobs, she ignored it.

He gestured toward the steaming shower. “It was the first thing I redid in the house.”

Thinking about his shower was infinitely more appealing than thinking about being unemployed. Thinking about him in the shower? Priceless. But he was still looking just amused enough at her interest that she shrugged lightly. Look at me not caring…

But on the inside she was caring big-time, wondering how the hell to get him un-amused and hot, because dammit she wanted him hot.

Why the hell she wanted it made no sense to her, none whatsoever, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was hot, so he needed to be the same. Call it petty revenge on the guy who’d once walked away from her. Call it desperation for a diversion from her real reason for being here. But she wanted him to want her. Needed him to want her. She wanted that more than her next breath, and she wanted him to suffer for it.

Around them the steam started to rise, but instead of declaring his undying lust for her, he turned and walked back into his bedroom, vanishing from view.

Kenzie let out a breath. Weary, tired of her own smoky stench, she removed her splint and reached for the tie on her hospital gowns, then went still in surprise when Aidan reappeared.

His broad shoulders filling the doorway, his dark eyes met hers as he held out two folded towels. “You still like to use two?”

She blinked as he set them on the counter by the sink. “Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

Jaw a little tight, he nodded, and very carefully didn’t come any closer.

Huh. He didn’t look that amused now. He looked, dared she think it, a little…hot.

Interesting.

He was going to give her some privacy. Privacy that, shock of all shocks, she didn’t actually want. But there he went, turning away again.

“I’ll be in the other room if you need anything,” he said. “Just call for me.”

Wow. He was being considerate, sweet and sensitive, none of the traits she would have associated with him. “You know, this would probably be a lot easier on me if you could continue to be the asshole that you once were.”

“Yeah, there’s a problem with that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not the same guy I was then.”

She opened her mouth, not sure what she planned on saying, but it didn’t matter because he walked away, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Kenzie stared at the closed door before stripping and then getting into the shower. Once there, she hissed when the water hit her various cuts but she stood beneath the spray anyway, for a very long time, before finally soaping up. It took five shampoos to get out the smoke smell and even then she wasn’t sure she managed completely. By the time the hot water was gone, her skin was wrinkled like a prune and she smelled like Aidan. It was ridiculous but she kept lifting her arm to her nose so she could inhale the scent of him.

When she’d wrapped herself up in the towels, one on her head, one around her body, she opened the bathroom door and found Aidan sitting on the bed, his legs spread, his hands clasped between them, his face pensive. “Better?” he asked, looking for himself.

“Almost human.”

A brief smile curved his lips as he held out bandages and antiseptic cream for her injuries. “I was wondering if you planned on drowning yourself in there.”

“I’m angry and frustrated and devastated, but not stupid.”

He let out a slow nod, his gaze dropping from her face to her body, studying the towel covering her from just beneath her armpits to mid-thigh. She was gratified to see an absolute lack of humor now.

Slowly he stood up, and something surged within her. Lust, which she beat back. Triumph, which she let take over. Want me… Yeah, that worked for her, him wanting her. Because when he admitted that out loud, she was going to lift her chin, flat-out reject him and maybe feel just the tiniest bit better.

She hoped. God, she hoped. Because something had to ease this knot in her chest. Knot, hell. It was a ball, a huge ball, and it was suffocating her. If she gave too much thought to it, it swelled even bigger and threatened to overcome her.

Then he walked toward her, and she shivered in anticipation because here it came, the him wanting her portion of the evening.

But he simply held out her cell phone. “It went off again when you were in the shower. Local cell number.”

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

Aidan strode right past her, going to his dresser.

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

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

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

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