But she wanted more than that. Needed more than that, and she thought maybe she knew what to do.

If she dared…

But she’d always been bold, especially in front of a camera. And if she closed her eyes, she could be bold here as well.

Doing just that, she then reached up, pulling out the end of the towel from between her breasts, and let the thing drop.

It hit the floor with a soft thud.

Naked as a jay bird, she opened her eyes.

Aidan, unflappable, cool, calm as the eye-of-a-storm Aidan, had gone still as stone, his only movement his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard.

She held out a hand for the proffered T-shirt.

He didn’t let go of it, seemingly frozen into place, as he looked her over from head to toes and back again.

She’d never thought of herself as particularly vengeful, and especially didn’t wish him harm after he’d saved her life, but he’d once been able to walk away from her without a backward glance, and that had not only broken her heart, but destroyed her confidence.

The look on his face took a good part of that remembered pain away. “Thank you,” she said, tugging on the T-shirt, practically having to pry it out of his fingers.

He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to. The bulge behind the button fly of his jeans said it all, and with a little shimmying movement, she pulled the shirt over her head, letting it cover her body, before turning and walking out of the room, a real smile on her face for the first time since she’d heard about Blake’s death.

6

THE MOMENT HE WAS ALONE in his bedroom, Aidan let out a long, slow breath. He needed to go after Kenzie to tell her she could have his bed to sleep in, but after the past sixty seconds, he needed a moment.

Or ten.

Or maybe a cold shower.

Bending for the towel she’d dropped, he winced. Still hard as a rock, but who wouldn’t be? She had the body that most red-blooded males fantasized about-all soft, warm curves, and then there’d been her tan lines, outlining what looked like a string bikini.

God bless tan lines.

Yeah, he was going to need another moment. He calculated a few multiplication problems in his head, and then went after her. She stood in his living room with her back to him, facing the large picture window that looked out on a darkening sky. She wore the T-shirt he’d lent her, which thanks to the show she’d given him a moment ago, he now knew she had nothing on beneath it. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, her hands at her sides.

And he had no idea what she was thinking.

“I wanted to spread Blake’s ashes into the ocean,” she said softly to the window. “Off the bluffs. He would have liked that.”

He let out a low breath, knowing what was coming next, hating what was coming next.

“Only there are no ashes.”

The pain reverberated in her voice, and somehow bounced off his own chest, rolling over his heart. Dammit. He headed toward her.

“All I can do is put a marker next to our parents’ graves.” Her voice wobbled at this, but she didn’t lose it, just stared out at the night. “He’s innocent, Aidan.”

The Kenzie he’d known had always believed the best of everyone, to a fault. Seemed that hadn’t changed, only this time it was going to bite her on the ass.

“And I would have thought you’d think so, too,” she said with more than a little accusation in her voice. She sighed, the sound soft and heart-breaking as it shuddered out of her.

“Look,” he said. “Why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep. You’ll feel better if you do.”

“I doubt that.” But she finally turned from the window. The last of the day’s light slanted in through the glass behind her, casting her in its soft glow, rendering the T-shirt just sheer enough to stop his heart.

Not sure how much more of her glorious body he could take without dropping to his knees and begging for mercy, he stayed right where he was instead of getting any closer to her.

Closer would be a mistake, especially with those hugely expressive eyes on his, and that look of grief all over her face.

“Sleep won’t change anything that I’m feeling,” she whispered. “He’ll still be innocent.”

“Kenzie, they found a scrapbook of all the fires in Blake’s house. He was keeping track of them.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

“What does it mean?”

“Something else.” She hugged herself, looking miserable and alone, and hurting. “I wish we were friends,” she said very quietly. “I wish that you hadn’t hurt me, and that I didn’t have the urge to hurt you back.”

Feeling bad, feeling a whole host of things he shouldn’t be feeling at all, he took her hand. “I’m sorry I hurt you back then. I’m sorry I let you go. But I was young and stupid, Kenz. I was a complete ass.”

She lifted a shoulder, tacitly agreeing with him.

“I’d like to think that if we were seeing each other now,” he said softly, “and one of us wanted out, that we’d do better. That we’d make the friendship work.”

Another lift of her shoulder, with slightly less temper in it this time.

Okay, that was something, a step at least. Pulling her toward him, he turned to lead her back to his bed, where he was going to tuck her in and then walk away.

Be the good guy.

Only she tugged him back, and suddenly he was holding onto her and she was pressing her face into his throat and breathing in deep, and…and hell. He was in trouble, sinking fast. “I showered at the station,” he murmured into her hair. “But I need another. I still smell like smoke, Kenz, and-”

“Right.” Pulling free, she turned away. “Sorry.”

And now she thought he didn’t want to hold her, when that was all he wanted. “Kenzie-”

“No, you’re right. Absolutely right. Let’s not go there.” She smiled, and anyone who’d ever seen her smile for real would have recognized it as a first-class fake, but he didn’t dare say a word about it because he had the feeling she was barely hanging on.

As was he.

She turned away. “You’re right. Sleep might be best. But I’ll take the couch-”

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I-”

“Make no mistake, Aidan. I still want to hurt you. It’s immature and extremely juvenile of me, but it’s fact. So, no. I’m not sleeping in your bed.” She walked back to the couch.

“Kenzie-”

“Please,” she said, sinking down to the cushions and closing her eyes. “Could I have a blanket?”

“Of course.” He went and got several, came back and spread them over her.

She didn’t speak, or for that matter, move.

“Call me if you need anything,” he finally said.

She gave no response to that, either, and he nodded even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Okay then…night.” He paused, but she still didn’t say anything to release him from the strange torment he felt. In the end, he did as she seemed to want, and left her alone.

A FEW MINUTES LATER, Kenzie heard the shower go on, and in spite of herself, pictured Aidan stripping off his clothes and climbing in.

Soaping himself up…

Standing there beneath the steamy hot water all naked.

And unintentionally sexy.

Behind her, from somewhere else in the house, a phone rang. A machine clicked on and she heard Aidan’s voice saying, “You know what to do at the beep.”

Then came a “Hey, you” in a low, Marilyn Monroe-like purr. “It’s Lori. You didn’t call me back. I’ve been lonely for you, baby. Come over sometime soon, okay? I’ll be waiting…”

Kenzie listened to the click as the machine went off and silence filled the house.

Seemed Aidan was still the guy who left women feeling lonely for him. She should return the favor. She should go…somewhere.

But as she listened to the shower running, she let out a long breath and admitted to herself-as silly as it seemed-there was something undeniably consoling about being here with him. She’d told him she trusted him a little, and that was as truthful as it was unsettling. Yes, she had nowhere else to go, but it was far more than that. At the moment, he was the only familiar, comforting presence in her life. At the moment, she wanted to be there, she really did, even knowing that the longer they spent together, the more they would grow closer, whether she liked it or not.

Only, she was afraid she would like it. A lot more than was wise.

AIDAN SURFACED from a deep, deep sleep, aware that something had woken him, but not sure what. He opened his eyes and saw his dark bedroom lit up in black and white by the faint glow of the moon slanting in through his horizontal blinds.

There, by his bed, stood an angel.

An angel in his T-shirt, in the same white swaths of moonlight as his room.

She was hurting, sad, scared…and why the hell hadn’t he given her a suit of armor instead of just a T-shirt? Had he been looking for punishment? Because there it was, in flesh and blood and glorious curves and wild hair, and a face so hauntingly beautiful she took his breath. He was in trouble, deep trouble, because although he’d managed to resist opening his heart to her that first time, he wasn’t quite sure he would be able to manage it this time.

Without a single word, she lifted his covers and scooted into the bed.

With him.

He was exhausted, beyond exhausted, and was afraid he didn’t have the self-control to deal with this. “Jesus,” he gasped as she pressed her icy feet to his.

“Sorry.”

But she didn’t pull them back. Nope, she tucked them beneath his, sucking the warmth out of him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered.

He had no idea what she was talking about. There was no way she could clearly see his expression, she couldn’t see any more than he could in the strips of moonlight. He could see her eyes, not her nose. He could see her mouth, not her chin…