Chapter 1
“Ya know CPR, right?” Shep asked.
“What?” Kelsey Durrand didn’t bother to glance up from the open files on the reception desk. She’d known Linus Shepherd long enough to understand when to ignore him. Which was usually. And when to encourage him, which was never.
“No need for them paddles.” He made a jerking motion with his hands as if shocking the life back into a would-be corpse. “Or that chest compression shit.”
She rose to her feet, irritated, under the proverbial gun, and distracted. She’d been left in charge of Eddy’s Angels, the detective agency conceived by Jennifer Edwards, her boss, sister-in-law, and all around kickass friend. Or at least they had been friends until Eddy took off with Gabe eight days earlier. The newlyweds said they were following a missing persons lead. But Kelsey was pretty sure that was PC speak for taking a second honeymoon. Or maybe a first if one didn’t consider running down an ex-con in Aruba the proper start to a marriage. “What are you talking about, Shepherd?”
“Mouth to mouth. It’s a helluva lot more personal.” He turned with her as she strode across the room. “And the least ya can do when ya knock a man dead with them eyes.”
She stopped short, stared at the wall above the file cabinet for one disbelieving second, then twisted toward him. “Seriously?” she asked. Linus Shepherd, better known by those who tolerated his dubious sense of humor as Shep, was, despite a number of recent disputes, her brother’s best friend. They’d saved each other’s asses on a thousand blood-chilling occasions, both as Army Rangers and civilians. A few months ago, however, the two had gone their separate ways after a disastrous stint in Tehran. Gabe to nurse his wounds in the hills of Tennessee, Shepherd to join a privately funded operation in Colombia. That mission had been even more devastating than the one in Iran.
“What d’ya think?” he asked.
She raised a brow. Shepherd would have very likely died in the jungle had her brother not come to his rescue. Shortly after their return stateside, however, Shep had returned to his old ways as thrill seeker, part-time mercenary, and full-time player. She wasn’t sure which of those unlikely pastimes made Eddy decide he could be an asset to the Angels. “That’s the best you’ve got?”
He grinned and shrugged, a leisurely bump of chambray-clad shoulders. The shoulders were pretty impressive. But the smile was absolutely top-shelf, known to knock unsuspecting women off their feet at fifty yards. Luckily, Kelsey had been around long enough to suspect everything. “Naw,” he drawled, “not my best.”
Bending, she pulled open the cabinet’s bottom drawer to shove her papers in the appropriate file. “I don’t know how I feel about you throwing me a second-rate line, Shepherd.”
“Well, darlin’,”—she could actually hear the grin twine smokily with the drawl in his Southern Comfort voice—“I don’t wanna do no damage.”
“Damage?” she asked and returned to the desk.
Another half-hearted shrug. “Gabe’d kick me here to Sunday if I injured the mother of his niece.”
She watched him, half perturbed, half amused. “You’re worried about hurting me.”
He lifted his hands, palms up. “Ya know what they say.”
“Not sure I do, actually.”
“With great power comes great responsibility.”
She considered that for one judicious moment then, “Can your ego really be that big?”
“My ego!” He didn’t look affronted so much as surprised. “Ya got this all sideways, Kels.”
“Do I?”
“I just don’t want ya to get hurt.”
She gave him a head tilt.
“While throwin’ yourself at me.”
She snorted, abandoning her task for a moment. “All right, give it your best shot.”
He shook his head, eyes alight with humor. “I don’t wanna be contrary, sweetheart, but…I’m afraid ya can’t handle my best.”
She narrowed her eyes as if in deep thought. “You know, I don’t want to upset Gabe, either. I mean, despite your recent SNAFU, he loves you like a brother…albeit a dumbass, retarded brother who screws up with the regularity of a Swiss watch,” she admitted then held his gaze in a steely stare-down as she raised one haughty brow. “But if I hear one more lame come-on slither out of your mouth, I’m gonna finish what the last woman started.”
He stared at her in surprise. “Ya mean this little thing?” he asked and tapped the biceps of his left arm. Rumor suggested that his latest conquest had, at some point in their less than tranquil relationship, tried to off him. Apparently, she’d failed, but not before putting him in the ER with some pretty impressive lacerations and an acute infection.
“I heard that little thing almost killed you.”
“Well, she was pretty excited at the time,” he admitted and laughed, remembering. “Do ya suppose it’s normal that you gals who can kick my ass get my blood up?”
“I don’t think anything about you is normal, Shepherd. Now give me your best line or get the hell out of my sight.”
“Ya sure you’re up for it?”
She crossed her arms over her modestly attired chest and honed her disgusted look. “I’m feeling pretty confident.”
“Maybe ya oughta sit down.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” she snapped and threw up her hands.
“Alright. Alright,” he said and shook his head as if taking a terrible risk. “If you’re sure.”
“Swear to God…” she began, but he was already crossing the floor toward her, all lean hips, Okie swagger, and killer eyes.
Reaching out, he took her hand in his. His fingers were long, tan, and roughened at the tips, which he eased, gentle as a daydream, along her meandering life line. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He tried to control his grin, almost succeeded, then pressed the pad of his thumb to the center of her palm. “Such a sweet little hand,” he said, “to be turnin’ my world upside down.”
Despite the fact that she was ex-military and tougher than shoe leather, feelings shivered up her arm, leaping off in a dozen forbidden directions. Yeah, she was a hardass, a triathlete, and a single mother. And, yes, she was pretty sure any one of those qualifiers should have made her immune to his idiotic charms. But, dammit, he packed a wallop. She would, however, take a round to the brainpan before she’d admit as much. So she scrunched her face into a disappointed mien and shook her head. “Sorry.” She hid away her smile and managed a shrug when his brows leapt up in surprise. “’Fraid that didn’t do a thing for me.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re wrong.”
“I’m not.”
His expression went quizzical as if he were trying to decipher an incomprehensible puzzle. “Ya had to feel somethin’.”
“Want to try again?”
He exhaled heavily. “Alright.” Spreading his booted feet, he took a firmer grip on her hand. “Hold onto your hat,” he ordered then smoothed out his tone and began again. “Just seein’ ya like this”—he paused, eyes a sapphire meld between intense and earnest—“just knowin’ there’s someone like you…someone so perfect in this big ol’ messed up world, makes me believe in magic.”
She watched him in silence, trying to look bored while encouraging her heart rate to drop back to normal. She wasn’t interested in him. Honest to God, she wasn’t. But she wasn’t dead either. So it took a moment for her uber-practical mind to remind her sadly ignored hormones that this was just a game…just a momentary distraction. “Maybe if I didn’t know so much about you,” she said finally.
“Really?” He reared back. “You didn’t feel nothin’?”
“Sorry.”
“You sure you’re female?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Want me to check?” he crooned and, switching gears with the dexterity of a street fighter, sidled closer.
She did the same, stepping forward until their bodies almost touched. Their gazes met and clashed. Pheromones sparked in the air like fireflies. She ignored them. “Want me to kick your balls into your esophagus?” she murmured in return.
Laughter sparkled in those celestial eyes, but before it escaped his lips, someone spoke from the doorway.
“Disculpe. This is the detective agency, sí?”
Kelsey tried to pull her hand from Shep’s, but his grip had tightened with sudden intensity. An angry muscle jerked once in his sculpted jaw.
She raised her brows in surprise. Honest to God, in all the years she’d known Linus Shepherd, she’d never seen him truly mad. Hell, she’d rarely seen him mildly miffed, but there was something different now, something precipitated by the Spanish-speaking woman who’d entered the room from behind him.
It took several seconds before he loosened his grip; longer until he spoke. “Carlotta,” he said finally and turned away, granting Kelsey her first unobstructed view of their visitor.
Her hair was long, wavy, and as black as a raven’s wing, her skin a flawless caramel confection, while her body seemed to have been crafted by a particularly benevolent god. The word gorgeous just barely scratched the surface.
Judging by her thunderstruck expression, however, the curvaceous señorita was even less enthusiastic about seeing Shepherd, than he was about setting eyes on her.
This, she thought with evil anticipation, is going to be interesting.