After Noah and Wade cleared away the dessert dishes—unsurprisingly, there was no leftover cheesecake to store—the three of them traipsed downstairs to the guest rooms. Tilly unlocked the room with the wooden shark sign above the door and hit the lights.

“This is…something.” Wade stared wide-eyed around at the shark-themed duvet cover, throw cushions, wall art, and even a shark-shaped table lamp that Tilly had decided was hideously gorgeous.

“Thought you’d like it.” Noah tossed his brother’s sports bag inside the door. “I’m sure you’ll get a better night’s sleep than on my couch.”

Wade snorted, crossing to the nightstand to turn on the shark lamp. “A good brother would’ve let me have his bed for a few nights, instead of kicking me out into a sharktopian nightmare—no offence.” He grinned at Tilly.

“None taken.” She dropped the keys onto a small table that held an electric kettle, mugs, and an assortment of tea and coffee sachets. “There are clean towels in the bathroom, but let the hot water run for about a minute before you enter the shower. I know this from experience.”

“Great.” Wade rubbed his hands together. “What’re we going to do now, bro?”

Noah folded his arms, arrowing a slitted glance down his nose. “You’re gonna stay here and get some beauty sleep. I’m going home.”

Wade’s gaze zip-zapped between her and Noah. “You’re going home, huh? Just keep in mind the floorboards in this house are old and they probably squeak like a bastard. I’m betting I’ll be able to hear every move Tilly makes up there.”

Tilly fisted her hands on her hips, willing the sudden prickle of heat spreading across her cheekbones to evaporate. “Well, ew. That’s not at all creepy and Norman Bates-ish.”

Wade laughed, sitting on the mattress edge and giving it a testing bounce. “Go on, then. I’ll just sit here and calculate how many sharks there are per square inch.”

“Have fun with that,” Noah said. “Later.”

“We’ll talk about Dad in the morning,” Wade called out, but Noah had already strolled away.

“Um. I hope you’ll be comfortable. ’Night.” Tilly sidled toward the door.

“Hey, Tilly?” 

She turned back to him. He’d toed off his boots and sat relaxed, hands braced behind him on the bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re his…neighbor.” He shot her a devilish grin, looking in that moment so much like his big brother that her heart gave a little leap. “And I sleep like the dead.”

“Good to know.”

Her gaze flicked sideways to where Noah waited for her at the end of the path. She’d have better luck doing math equations with Wade than she would preventing the ripple of awareness lighting up each and every nerve ending as his gaze skimmed over her. Her feet felt as though they’d sunk into wet concrete, heavy and uncooperative. Yet her blood fizzed and sparked, lighting little bubbling bombs deep in her stomach at the thought of what came next. Another smoking-hot good-night kiss? Or maybe it wouldn’t be good night at all.

She slid the glass door shut and walked toward Noah. He didn’t speak as they rounded the corner together and climbed the steps to the back porch. It seemed like months ago that she’d first stood there with him in his police blues, her in only a towel.

Fun times.

“Thanks for letting him stay,” Noah said. “I know you’ve got your hands full sorting out Mary’s estate.”

“It’s no problem. And now I can just stomp on the floor if I need a big manly man to rescue me during the night.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction and suddenly his hands were on her waist. He swept her off her feet and set her butt on the porch railing, leaving her no choice but to cling onto him or else topple over the edge. It was as good an excuse as any to touch him, because she was at less of a risk with Noah holding her than she was from falling over her own feet.

“All right. Who told you?” he asked.

The mock glare aiming down at her didn’t scare her in the slightest. Arching her eyebrows, she released one anaconda-like grip on his biceps and slid her hand up to rest on his shoulder. “Oh. Do you mean the Easter Gala tomorrow?”

She stroked her index finger down the strong column of his throat, loving the feel of his warm smooth skin—since he’d taken the time to shave. She was rewarded by the rapid movement of his Adam’s apple and a sharp inhale.

“Where you’re planning to prove how manly you are in the Manly Man of the Year competition?”

Noah’s mouth twisted and he scrunched up his nose. The word adorable didn’t factor into just how hot the man was.

“It’s for a good cause.”

She chuckled. “There were no complaints from the women I overheard in the grocery store this afternoon. You’re the favorite to take the title this year, they reckon.”

She was tempted to mention their giggling discussion on the odds of him winning the one-handed bra-removal portion of the competition. Apparently it was always a hit with the crowd, but considering the blood pumping through her veins like wildfire, perhaps discretion was the better part of valor.

“God. I’d kinda forgotten about the whole thing with Wade showing up out of the blue.” He dipped his head, resting his forehead against hers. “That, and other distracting things.”

Cue a butterfly explosion in her stomach. She traced her fingers through the crisp hairs at the back of his neck, then threaded them into his hair. It was a silkier texture than she’d expected, and she reflexively clenched her fist. “You don’t strike me as a man who’s easily distracted.”

“Usually, I’m not.” He sucked in a deep breath. Her breasts smooshed oh-so-deliciously against his chest. “I’ve been told I need to get out and have more fun.”

“Tomorrow sounds fun.” Then again, so would him taking her right there and then for some on the porch rail sexy times.

“Lady, you’ve got a disturbing idea of what constitutes fun.” His hand stroked up her spine to splay his fingers across her upper back. “Public humiliation while competing isn’t fun.”

She wanted to purr like a cat and rub against him as his fingertips slowly worked their way across her shoulder blades. “It’s only humiliating if you lose.”

Noah dipped his head to nuzzle at the sensitive point where her ear met jaw. She arched her throat and whispered kisses seared along her skin, falling away when he paused close to her lips.

“I don’t lose,” he said.

Or at least that’s what she thought he said. Hard to tell over the thudding in her ears and a heart that revved like a drag car ready to race. Her eyelids fluttered shut, honing her remaining senses to an unbearably sharp level. The crisp evening air emphasized the warmth of Noah’s arms around her, the heat of his chest under a cotton layer acting like a radiating heat source—a muscular-shaped man-heater. A clean, woodsy scent curled into her nose from his skin. Either his shave gel, cologne, or just a pheromone-drenched sexy male smell that some men had.

Finally, when her heartbeat grew so thunderous it was about to knock her off the porch rail, Noah claimed her mouth.

He tempted her with a hint of the peppermint tea they’d had with dessert, delivered on the flicker of his tongue as he explored her mouth thoroughly. Oh, so thoroughly. But he kept his kisses lazily sweet, sensuously slow—and he kept his hands and legs inside his vehicle at all times.

Metaphorically speaking.

He broke off the kiss and eased back. Tilly let out a low moan which any male with any game could translate as don’t stop—do me! Speaking of public humiliation…

Big hands spanned her waist and he lifted her down from the railing. Humiliation part two: her knees wobbled like a newborn colt. 

“I’m going now,” he said. 

She got some small measure of satisfaction that his voice was gritty-rough and his tone uneven. Nice to know she wasn’t the only one losing her mind over what was meant to be a good-night kiss. 

He cupped her jaw with one palm, stroking a thumb down her cheek. “I don’t want to, but I will. While Wade’s here.”

“Be a good role model for the little bro—gotcha.”

He chuckled, dropping his arm back to his side. “But if you need a man after midnight, you have my number.”

Tilly performed an award-worthy eye roll, mostly to hide the little shiver that rippled through her at the thought of him sneaking into her bed after Mary’s antique clock struck twelve. She ducked around him and opened the back door—before she changed her mind about letting him off the hook and dragged him into her lair. Turning back, her breath caught at the heat of his gaze, the message in it loud and clear. A few moments more and he’d be doing the dragging.

She cleared her throat from the tingling ball of lust expanding in it and went hand on hip, sass mode on full. “Just for that, the next movie we watch together will be Mamma Mia.”

“The threat of chick flicks won’t scare me off spending time with you. That ship has sailed.” The smile curving his mouth contained a promise of an intimate rain check, but also a quiet determination that both scared and excited her.

Because for the life of her she couldn’t think of one vaguely witty reply in that instant—the story of a writer’s life—she simply smiled back, muttered, “Good night,” and shut the door in his face.

Smooth, Montgomery. Real smooth.

She slumped against the door with Jell-O legs, listening as he jogged down the porch steps, his footsteps fading into the night. What the hell had she gotten herself into this time? Whatever it was, she needed to keep reminding herself of the rules of engagement.

Fun and games and booty calls were okay.

Letting her heart become involved with men who were emotional vampires, sucking out all her feels but giving nothing in return, were not okay.

“Daniels. Any movement in back? Report.”

“Negative.” Noah slipped a finger under his balaclava and helmet to adjust the earpiece. Though the evening was cool—and in less than twenty minutes it’d be past midnight—he was sweating under his ballistic vest and fifty-five pounds of kit. As if he were back in the grueling AOS training course where he and the other candidates had been forced to run endless miles in it. “PNT having any luck?” he added.

The Police Negotiating Team had moved into place once the neighbors surrounding the double-story house divided into two apartments had been evacuated and the street cordoned off. Noah, Jim, Dale, Mike, and their OC, Andy, took up positions surrounding the property to contain the offender. They’d gotten lucky with their negotiator on this callout. Senior Constable Miller was one of the best.

“Negative. Howard’s still refusing to come out. The bastard’s still hiding behind the woman whenever he approaches the windows.”

Movement in Noah’s upper left periphery had his attention and the barrel of his rifle swinging to the corner window. The kitchen window, according to the OC. The light inside the apartment was muted, as if Howard needed some visibility to control his hostage but didn’t want enough to present a target to the officers outside.

Noah narrowed his eyes behind his protective goggles, but the motion didn’t repeat. He continued to silently observe. There was a small empty deck and a narrow flight of stairs leading to it which would force Noah and Mike into single file if the order to enter came. In the shadows across the backyard—the lack of kid crap on the straggly grass a hopeful indication that a child didn’t live there—Mike lifted a silent hand and pointed to Noah’s right.

Opposite window, living room. The long drapes twitched, parted. A woman’s face appeared in the crack, her skin pale in the dim light, and a glint of metal at her throat. Kitchen knife? Hunting knife? She turned her face slightly in Noah’s direction, the knife tip pressed to the underside of her jaw. She froze, even though she couldn’t possibly see him dressed as he was in head-to-toe black, concealed beside a midsized leafy tree.

“If they don’t leave now, I’ll slit your throat. Useless bitch.”

Howard’s raised voice, just loud enough to carry into the still night air, was chilling. He must have moved from behind her as a flash of brighter light fell on the woman’s head, highlighting her long, candy-apple-red dreadlocks before she was pulled out of sight.

His earpiece crackled and Mike’s deep voice spoke his report into Noah and the team’s ears with brisk, calm efficiency. Noah’s heart continued to slam against his ribs. He forced his focus away from what he couldn’t control to what he could.

Cordon, contain, appeal, was the code the AOS operated by. And finally, apprehend—by lethal force if they had no other choice. The offender inside was contained, and appeals for the safety of himself and his hostage from Miller weren’t having a positive result. The squad was prepared for Howard to surrender, which was normally the case when you had an armed-to-the-teeth group of big, adrenaline-pumped men pointing guns at your head. The squad was also prepared for Howard to run. Dale had his police dog, Victor, at his side from his current position on the street. They were prepared, at the risk of their own safety, to follow the OC’s order to enter by force if necessary, and they were prepared, with no other option, to neutralise the threat of Tristan Howard.

A woman’s scream split the night, and there was no more time to think. Training took over.

---

Noah startled out of a doze. His leg muscles, already tensed and strained, jerked in that nasty falling-off-a-cliff sensation. He rasped in a lungful of air and bolted upright. Invisible concrete encased his ribs and he fisted the sheets at his side.

“Son of a bitch,” he told the empty room, his voice quaking in the silence.

He felt both sweaty and chilled at the same time, so he flipped back the covers and headed into the shower. The only way to blast the lingering nightmare from his brain was a cold shower then hot coffee.

Half an hour later he stood at Tilly’s place balancing three takeout coffees and a bag of Erin’s muffins. With no free hands, Noah gently kicked the bottom of her front door with the toe of his boot. The hollow boom cued an instant flashback to battering down an offender’s door. He winced, willing the creep of ice threading its way through his gut to cease. The reliving of his own personal nightmare hadn’t made an appearance for months. He’d thought he was done with it—had dealt with it years ago in the excruciating peeling back of himself with a police-recommended therapist.

Tilly flung open the door, looking rumpled and gorgeous in her hastily tied robe and bed hair. Her slight pouty scowl vanished when her gaze dropped from his face to his hands.

“God, I love you,” she said.

The ice speckle in his gut was blasted away with a lava tide of heat, followed by a one-two punch of pure male panic.

Whoa, now! Holy hell!

Her gaze flicked up to his face. Apparently he wasn’t as good a poker player as he thought as she flashed him a sharp smile.

“I mean the muffins, big guy.” She rolled her eyes and stepped back, allowing him to enter. “I’m assuming that’s what you’ve got in there.”

Noah held out the bag, willing his pulse to quit racing around his body like something was chasing it. “Two walnut and coffee, two cheese and smoked paprika, and two raspberry and white chocolate. I also got you a flat white with Erin’s special coffee blend of the week, Manly Man’s Hair of the Dog.”

Tilly laughed and took the bag from him. “Nicely done, Erin.”

She led the way into the kitchen, where he spotted an open laptop on the dining table. She casually slapped the lid shut as she circled around to the cabinet containing plates.

“Three plates?” she asked. “I’m guessing you’re currying favor with Wade by bringing him breakfast?”

“Yeah.” He set the takeout coffees on the table. “I’ll give him an old-school heads-up if you don’t mind me going into Mary’s room?” 

“Be my guest.” 

He backtracked into the hall and into the center of the master bedroom. He stomped three times, cocked his head to listen, and grinned at his brother’s cursing from somewhere below. He sent a follow-up text telling him there was food and hot coffee upstairs, and returned to the kitchen. Tilly was seated in front of the laptop, fingers pecking rapidly across the keypad. 

She glanced up at him. “Inspiration struck and I…dammit.” Her glance turned into a glare. “Don’t look at me like that—you made me forget my train of thought.”

He held up his palms. “I wasn’t looking at you like anything.”

Which was a flat-out lie. He’d been thinking how beautiful she looked with her hair spilling down her back and a dreamy expression on her face. It was the kind of expression a man liked to see on his woman’s face after he’d made her come for the second time.

“Get back to it—pretend I’m not here.”

She pulled a face and closed the laptop again. “Too late.”

He slid into a chair opposite her and passed over one of the coffees. A peace offering. “Sorry. Were you working on your K-Road script?”

“No.” She peeled open the coffee lid and took a sniff, making a soft hum of approval that shot straight to his groin. “A screenplay for a feature film I’ve been working on forever.”

Her tone and the smear of pink rising on her cheekbones were a curious development. “Is it for an X-rated, Fifty Shades kind of thing?”

She took a sip of her coffee, eyelids slipping down for a moment. Then her box-cutter-sharp gaze sliced into him again. “Why on earth would you think that?”

He studied her over the rim of his cup. “Because I’d offer to do a read through with you if it was.” And that was the flat-out truth.

Tilly barked out a laugh, her eyes sparkling. The sound prickled pleasurably over his skin and he found himself laughing with her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to the light and warmth her company provided until it seeped through his skin and drove away the last of his foul mood.

“Seriously,” he said. “Tell me about this feature film of yours.”

“You won’t laugh?”

“Not unless it’s a romantic comedy and I’m supposed to.”

Tilly’s mouth twisted to one side for a moment. “It’s a sci-fi thriller adventure with a big dash of romance. It’s fluff and fun with no deep and meaningful layers of theme or moralistic teaching opportunities.” She whuffed out a sigh. “My father’s peers would sneer and say I’m selling out—even more than writing for a television drama.” Frown lines appeared on her brow and her fingers tightened around the takeout cup.

Noah set down his coffee and reached across to gently pry the cup from her hands. He placed her coffee beside his and captured her hand. “What would your dad think?”

Her shoulders hunched forward. “I think he was a little disappointed I decided to work in television, but he was supportive of me as his daughter. He always said no matter what path my passion for the written word took, he believed in me.” 

When her lower lip gave a little wobble, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “And what do you think?”

She stared at their joined hands a moment longer, then her spine straightened. “I think sometimes we need fluff and fun to take us out of our everyday lives for a few hours.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He squeezed her hand then released her, snagging the bag of muffins from the table and offering her first pick. “Tell me more about this sci-fi thriller.”

Tilly shot him a grateful smile and selected a muffin, drawing him into her imagination with the word pictures she created as she described her screenplay. While they ate, he listened. Not just to the plot and characters and cool space battles, but to the enthusiasm that brightened her tone so she sounded almost childlike in her excitement. He couldn’t help but compare her reaction to when she’d described K-Road to him.

Wade interrupted them about fifteen minutes into their conversation, slumping inside the kitchen via the back door, his eyes slitted and entirely focused on the last remaining coffee. He snatched up the takeout cup and chugged it, even though it would’ve been stone cold.

Then, wiping a foam mustache from his upper lip, he switched his gaze to Tilly. “Morning.”

“Good morning to you, too,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

Considering Noah had seen his younger brother looking better after a callout that involved crawling through paddocks and sheep poo, he suspected not.

“Sleep? With what sounded like a tsunami rolling in every five seconds,” Wade grumbled. “And if it wasn’t the waves, it was a bunch of hyperactive birds partying outside my window.”

“Lots of nocturnal activity is part of life on the island,” Noah said mildly. He pushed a plate with the remaining two muffins on it across the table. “Maybe you should catch the morning ferry back to the mainland.”

Wade grunted and broke off a chunk of muffin, stuffing it into his mouth. “Nah, I’m good.” He continued to chew with focused dedication. 

Little bro must’ve had a rough night, because even around a gobful of his breakfast, he didn’t make a wisecrack about what sort of nocturnal activities Noah and Tilly might’ve got up to during the night.

The sort of activities Noah couldn’t stop thinking about.