“Oh, a little of this, a little of that—” Realizing her gown was twisted very high up on her thighs—which, of course, was nothing to what he’d just seen—she grabbed her blanket and tried to cover herself up. A little like closing the barn door after the horse had escaped, she knew, but she was mortified. Except the movement made her want to throw up, and she reached up, holding her head tightly.
“Here.” He took over the task of covering her, quickly extricating his hands when he was done, not quite meeting her gaze as he sat at her side.
Awkward moment…“So,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking in on you.”
Yep. And he’d gotten to look in on far more than he’d probably intended.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Depends on your definition of all right.”
At that, his eyes cut to hers and he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, his fingers rasping over the growth there. He looked and sounded exhausted. “I’m sorry, Kenzie.”
“For what? That I just mooned you, or that I’m here at all?”
Aidan got to his feet, pulling the curtain shut again to give them privacy, privacy that she wasn’t sure she wanted.
He’d changed his clothes. He wore a pair of jeans now, loose on his long legs, low on his hips, with a long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned over a gray T-shirt that seemed to emphasize his broad shoulders and tough, athletic build. “Your shirt isn’t red,” she said slowly.
“What?”
“Before, somebody in a red shirt was looking at me.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her temples. “I’m out of it.”
“It was a tough night.”
“Yeah.” But he didn’t look like he’d just worked his ass off and managed to save her life to boot; he looked casual, relaxed.
Cool as a cucumber.
And so hauntingly familiar, not to mention gorgeous, that she couldn’t keep her eyes on him. How unfair was it that he’d gotten even better-looking with age? “Thanks for stopping by, Aidan, but you can see I’m fine. You can go.”
He looked doubtful.
“Seriously. I’m really okay.”
She almost had him, she could tell, but then she ruined it by shivering.
Without a word, he grabbed another blanket and settled it over her. She appreciated his sense of duty, but what she would appreciate even more would be his vanishing.
Or her.
Yeah, that might bebetter. If she could just vanish on the spot. Poof. “Okay, now I’m good, thanks. Really.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I mean you can’t even look at me, so—”
Lifting his head, he met her eyes, his hot enough to singe her skin.
“Oh,” she breathed, feeling her heart kick, hard.
“I can’t look at you?” he repeated in low disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Kenzie, I can’t do anything but look at you.”
Chapter 4
AT AIDAN’S WORDS, Kenzie’s breath caught and held. She didn’t know how to take him, especially the way he was looking at her, as if maybe he could see all the way through her, to her heart and soul, right to the very center of her being, where all the hurt was so carefully bottled up.
She’d gotten over him. Years ago. She really had. She’d gotten over how he’d once made her laugh, made her think, made her happy…
Made her come…
No way could he possibly reach her now. Not with that hard body, not with the look in his eyes and definitely not with the memories.
Okay, maybe the memories got to her, just a little bit. For one glorious summer, he’d been the best part of her life—before he’d walked away without so much as a glance back, that is.
Good. There was her anger, which would hopefully negate the fact that he was standing right here in the flesh looking good enough to…well…That thought made her want to sweat. But apparently she could be both over him and turned on by him at the same time, which confused her to say the least. She had no idea what that was about. No idea at all.
None.
She’d moved on years ago from that young, sweet, innocent girl. Now she was a woman with a backbone of sheer steel that had gotten her through some tough times.
She knew people tended to look at her carefully cultivated outer package—thank you, stylist to the stars—an outer package that was petite and willowy, even fragile-looking, and completely underestimate her.
But on the inside she was one-hundred-percent survivor, thank you very much. She’d lived through losing her parents early, through a happy-as-it-could-be teenage-hood with just Blake. She’d lived through being in the public eye, through the ups and downs of TV fame and most recently, through the death of her brother. All of that would have cracked most women, but she wasn’t easily cracked.
She would get to the bottom of this mess, no matter what she had to do in order to get there. No matter what. Even if she had to use her beauty, her checking account, her damn body.
She would do it.
Whatever it took.
For Blake.
”I heard you talking to the investigator,” she said softly.
Aidan’s eyes met hers, and she wished like hell she could read his mind. But she couldn’t, and he didn’t say another word to help.
“I think he’s wondering if I’m guilty of something.”
He just looked at her some more.
“The only thing I’m guilty of is knowing that he hasn’t done his job if he thinks Blake did those things.”
At that, his face softened, and regret filled his eyes, along with a grimness that had her shaking her head before he even spoke.
“Don’t say it,” she warned, not willing to hear it, not from him. Not from anyone. Not when she was this close to a breakdown. A grief breakdown. “Don’t.” She knew Blake, goddammit. She did. She didn’t remember much about her parents before they’d died in a car crash, but she remembered Blake. Every bit of him. He was the boy who’d held her hand every time they’d had to move to a new foster home. He was the
