Abby was suddenly aware they were alone and the bed suddenly looked less inviting and a lot more threatening. Flann stood absolutely still only inches away, but she seemed to fill the space with pent-up energy and heat. Abby pulsed inside, a warning and a plea. She couldn’t look at her, didn’t dare see her own desire reflected in Flann’s dark gaze, couldn’t bear the disappointment if she didn’t. “Yes, well, you should get some sleep too.”

Somewhere else, anywhere but here. Go. Go away before I beg you not to.

“I will, in a little while. I never really thanked you for looking after me earlier,” Flann said.

Abby took a breath, chanced a glance into her eyes. God, she had beautiful eyes. Bittersweet chocolate this morning, flecked with gold. They spoke, her eyes, of passion and pleasure. “You don’t need to thank me. You might have saved my son’s life, and you got hurt in the process. And even if that hadn’t been the case, I wanted to look after you.”

“Did you?” Flann brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s throat. Her fingers lingered.

“Yes.”

“You think I need looking after, do you?”

“Oh no, not you. I forgot, you don’t need anything except a little fun and companionship.” Abby meant to say it lightly, but it came out more seriously than she intended. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate and—”

“You’re right, most of the time. You’re not right now, though.” Flann clasped her upper arms gently and drew her forward. “Right now I need something else. Something very, very specific.”

“Flann,” Abby protested.

“You, Abby. Right now I want you so much I can’t think.” Flann slid her palms from Abby’s shoulders and down onto her forearms, tugging her until they were a whisper apart. “You looked really good sitting at the table this morning. Like you belonged there. You fit this place, Abby, this world.”

“Flann, I don’t—”

“Don’t think.” Flann leaned close. “Just take, Abby. Take.”

Impossibly, Abby couldn’t think. Somewhere a voice, her voice, cried Yes, for once, yes, take.

Flann kissed her, the first silky caress of her mouth barely more than a whisper, gently at first, building with each teasing pass to possessive and sure.

Abby stiffened, swamped by a hunger she’d never experienced. A little afraid, and terribly greedy for more. Flann held her firmly, unapologetically, as if Abby belonged to her. She’d never been held with so much authority, never been kissed with so much assuredness. Their bodies weren’t quite touching, but heat enveloped her. She tilted her head to get more of Flann’s mouth, slid her arms around her neck, breathed her in. Her nipples tensed and her thighs trembled. Another kiss stole through her, lightning fast, heat lightning, setting her ablaze. She pressed closer, heard herself moan softly.

Flann groaned and swept her hand down Abby’s back, tugging her scrub shirt up and spreading her fingers over Abby’s lower back. Her touch was a claim. Mine. Mine. Abby arched into her, pressing close, closer, her heart beating against Flann’s.

“God, you feel so good.” Abby laced her fingers through Flann’s hair, cupping the back of her neck, sealing the kiss as Flann’s lips parted and they delved deeper.

“Abby,” Flann groaned again, leaning back on the door and dragging Abby hard against her. A dizzying swell of desire rocketed through her. Flames raced across her skin, burning her with pleasure. Abby tasted so sweet, like hot honey on fresh biscuits, rich and full. Her kisses were wild, and so, so ready. Flann swept her palms down Abby’s sides and up again, thumbs stroking the undersurfaces of her breasts. “I want my hands all over you.”

“Your leg,” Abby gasped.

“It’s fine,” Flann growled, kissing her again. Abby’s breasts were firm against her own, the pressure a tease that shot to the pit of her stomach. Abby’s skin was soft and Flann let her hand drift beneath the top of her scrub pants until her fingers feathered the swell of her ass. Abby fit, every curve and sensuous plane of her. Their bodies were perfectly aligned. Every tilt of her head, every sweep of her tongue and Abby was there, answering. Passion for passion, need for need.

“Come to bed,” Flann gasped against Abby’s ear.

Abby pressed her palms flat against Flann’s upper chest and pushed away an inch. “Flannery, we can’t. Your family’s right downstairs.”

“They’re downstairs, we’re up here.” Flann’s eyes were dangerously dark, ravenous.

“I’m not going to bed with you.”

“Why not?”

Abby shook her head. She’d lost her mind. She couldn’t be kissing Flannery Rivers. “Because I’m not. I’m not—I’m not a good-time girl, Flann. And this is a really, really bad idea.”

Flann grinned, a ferocious smile that reminded Abby of a lethal predator about to pounce, and tightened her hold on Abby’s waist. “It’s a fucking great idea. Just kiss me again.”

“Absolutely not. I’m sorry, I don’t have any excuse. I—”

Flann’s eyes sparked, flame in obsidian. “What excuse, Abby? We’re both adults. You want me, I want you. What’s so complicated about that?”

Abby jerked back. “Really? That’s all it takes? A little bit of lust and you just follow your hormones wherever they lead? Well, I don’t. I’ve got a lot more to think about than taking care of an itch.”

“Maybe you should try scratching that itch sometime. You might find out you like it.” Flann’s voice was low but nearly a snarl.

“When and if I decide to scratch, it’s not going to be with you.” Abby managed to extract herself from Flann’s grip. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to try to get a little sleep before I have to go back to work. I’d like you to leave.”

Flann’s jaw clenched, and she battled down the haze of lust. What the fuck was she doing, with Abby of all people? She reached behind her, found the doorknob. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I apologize for taking advantage where I wasn’t invited.”

Abby’s head spun. “Advantage? Hardly, I—”

“I can assure you, it won’t happen again.” Flann yanked the door open. “I’ll let Glenn know she’ll need to ride back to the hospital with you.”

“What? I…”

Flann disappeared, and Abby stared at the closed door. Dammit. How had she let that happen? Flann thought she’d taken advantage? Please. She’d practically climbed up Flannery like a tree. Where had all that need come from, and how did she get rid of it? Her lips still tingled. Her belly throbbed with the demand for release. She hadn’t let it happen, she’d wanted it, almost from the first moment she’d seen Flannery Rivers in the ER. Flannery was the forbidden fruit she’d secretly been longing to taste. Well, now she’d tasted her, and she’d just have to figure out a way to stop wanting more.

*

Flann stared at the closed door and cursed viciously under her breath. Of all the stupid, asinine moves she’d ever made in her life, jumping on Abby Remy had to be at the top of the list. She never made a move on a woman that she hadn’t planned in advance. She always judged the field, made sure she had a good read on the signals, analyzed the defense—and the offense, for that matter—and mapped her play down to the last detail. She didn’t like complications and had learned early on to recognize when she and her date weren’t working the same game plan. When she’d first discovered girls, she thought everyone was as eager and crazy to explore sex as she was. It didn’t take too many hysterical breakups and broken hearts—fortunately short-term at that age—for her to realize otherwise. By the time Harper had hauled her down to the tree house and lectured her on the right way to go about treating a girl, especially one she wanted to have sex with, she’d pretty much figured it out for herself. She’d gotten herself into a few other snags in college and medical school, mostly from dating more than one girl at a time, and she’d finally given that up too. Now she was strictly a serial dater—usually short-term—and she made sure the game plan was clear from the beginning.

Until tonight. She’d thrown away the playbook where Abby was concerned. She’d just walked up to the plate and started swinging away. Christ. She turned on her heel and stomped down the stairs, nearly bumping into Harper and Presley at the bottom.

“I thought you were headed to be—” Presley began.

“Changed my mind.” Flann swerved around them, avoided the kitchen and her mother, and escaped through the side door at the far end of the hall. Once outside she took a deep breath of morning air. A layer of ozone lingered, biting at her eyes, and her skin instantly misted with sweat. All the same, the sky was clear and promised a brilliant day. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for her heart rate to come down and her body to lose the razor edge of arousal that had stripped her control and her reason. When she had half a brain back, she strode toward the barn. She’d never be able to sleep, and even if she could, she wasn’t about to go back upstairs and stretch out on a bed with Abby a room away. The state she was in, she’d probably end up scratching at Abby’s door like some pitiful stray, begging to be let in for crumbs.

“Fuck.”

“What’s the matter, Flann?” Margie said, coming around the corner of the barn.

Flann growled. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Blake appeared behind Margie, his arms full of kittens. Belatedly, Flann noticed Margie had one tucked under her arm.

“I thought I told you not to go in that barn until—”

Glenn stepped into view. “Harper and I checked it out a few minutes ago. That one corner is pretty bad. You all are lucky no one got hurt any worse.” She scratched a tiny kitten head cradled in Blake’s arms. “These guys were raising hell in the hayloft. We put a ladder up against the side to get them out through the hatch. The kids didn’t go inside.”