Fifteen minutes later, Charlie walked back into the living room, intending to make sure Jake was set before she settled down to paint. But the sight that greeted her eyes stopped her short.

God, he was nice to look at. She didn’t indulge in gawking at her houseguest very often, but sometimes she couldn’t help it.

Clad in only lounge pants and his open robe, the light from the TV danced over his dark hair, playing across that deep chest that had been wreaking havoc with her dreams ever since she’d gotten to fall asleep on it. He looked completely at ease, one muscular arm thrown behind his head, the one on his injured side resting on the space she’d recently vacated. One thing was for sure, her couch had never had anything as yummy as Jake Harris on it. His sexy eyes were heavy lidded as he stared up at the screen. Then she noticed what he was watching.

Son of a bitch.

With a screech, she leapt across the room and snatched at the remote. Jake’s fingers tightened like a steel trap. Even when she pried at them, she couldn’t loosen his grip. She smacked his shoulder in pure frustration.

“Jake!”

“Ah, ah, ah.” He grinned up at her. “You’re assaulting an injured man.”

Flustered, she let go at once. Perching on the arm of the couch, she refused to look at the screen behind her, ignoring the breathy, unmistakable moans, her own voice taking on an injured tone. “You figured out my password?”

“The fact that you live alone and have a password protecting your porn says a lot about your trust issues.”

“I don’t have trust issues—people have issues being trustworthy.” She gave him a pointed look.

Jake raised an eyebrow, not bothering to suppress his grin. Even in the dim light, he could probably see that her face was bright red. “Who was on the phone?”

“My boss.”

“Well, shit. Sorry about the porn comment.” For once he had the grace to look chagrined. Then annoyed. “Why in Christ is your boss calling you this late on a Friday night?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

His forehead wrinkled. “Seriously, Charlie? Don’t you ever go out?”

“I guess I haven’t found my Winchester yet. And look at that, after eleven p.m. already. It’s time for your pill and bed.” Before he could stop her, she snatched the remote from his slackened grip, aiming it behind her head and shutting the video down without looking at it.

“Dammit. That was getting good, too.” With a sigh, Jake tried to get up. “Ow.” He winced, sank back into the cushions and looked at her expectantly. “Help a guy out?”

If she didn’t know better, she would swear Jake was looking for an excuse to touch her. And that was plain crazy. She knew better than to take his teasing to heart. Jake just suffered from being an incorrigible flirt. It meant nothing. Just look at her. Look at him.

Even if that moment in the kitchen earlier had gotten to her. Just a little. The way he had looked at her while tasting her cake, as if he’d rather have been tasting her.

Silly.

But she couldn’t help her shiver as she eased him to his feet and helped him to the bedroom.

“Cold?” he asked her, his arm tightening on her shoulders, enveloping her in his warm strength.

She swallowed hard, her voice a little thick. “No. I’m good.”

They walked down the hall in silence, Jake walking even slower than usual. As if he wanted to draw out their time together. But that was delusional, too. Wasn’t it?

“Charlie?” he asked as she opened the door, making her jump a little.

“Yeah?”

“I like your taste in porn. You should check out Barbarella XXX. You’ve never seen such a great—”

Laughter burst from her lips before she put a hand over his mouth. She’d touched Jake dozens of times, maybe hundreds, but this time, the feel of his lips against her skin made her snatch her hand away, her face flaming.

Just like that, the light, teasing mood Jake had conjured vanished. The prickle of awareness she’d felt earlier returned. She swallowed a nervous laugh and stepped back, but it was too late.

His eyes locked on hers. Something in them made her breath come short. When he stepped closer and dipped his head, her heart seemed to stop entirely.

“Jake . . . don’t.” His breath was warm against her lips, making it hard to get the words out.

“Why not?” he whispered. His low baritone sent shivers down her spine, shivers that melted into a warm rush of heated awareness right between her thighs. His hand opened on her back, a heavy weight, drawing her forward, pressing her up against him. Her breasts brushed his bare chest, tightening and tingling at the contact.

For a moment, she forgot why not. She forgot everything.

Jake’s mouth came closer. Her own lips parted.

With a breathless gasp, she yanked back. “Because you’ll hurt me.”

---

Jake froze. Charlie’s face flushed a vivid pink. “Because you don’t mean it,” she amended hastily. “You’re just bored. Antsy. You don’t really want to do this.”

“Is that what you think?” Something inside him got tight and hot and angry. He turned his back on her to walk the few steps to the bed. Never mind that her words echoed his exact thoughts from earlier in the kitchen. His side, forgotten all night, suddenly ached so badly he could barely breathe. What the fuck was he doing here?

“I know you’re not thinking straight.”

“Is that so?” He lowered himself to the bed, gritting his teeth. Charlie didn’t reply. She darted into the bathroom, emerging a minute later with his pill and a glass of water.

She watched him take the medicine without comment, but there was still color in her cheeks, her pulse fluttering in that white throat and her lips trembling, lips he still wanted very much to kiss.

He averted his eyes because with unerring skill, Charlie had tapped her talented little fingers on exactly why he needed to stop this—whatever the fuck this was—from going any further.

He would hurt her.

Or his life would. Same difference, really. He knew better than anyone how shite he was at protecting the people he cared about.

As much as he hated to admit it, Stacia was right. For whatever reason, Charlie was getting to him. And that was too dangerous to be allowed, for everyone.

“Jake—”

“You’re right, Charlie. I’m not feeling myself. You should go, before any more mistakes are made.”

Her face pale, she closed the door without protesting, the soft click loud in his ears.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he reached for the cell phone Stacia had repaired for him. His conversation was short and to the point. When it was over, he lay awake for over an hour, the pain in his gut a dull ache, the heating pad once again forgotten on the nightstand.

---

Goodbyes weren’t her strong suit. Charlie hated them.

While Stacia hugged her and bussed her cheek, Charlie shuffled her feet, barely registering a word the woman was saying.

When Jake had told her he was leaving first thing this morning, she’d been shocked. Then hurt. Then mad.

Now she was just empty.

Jake stared at her over his sister’s shoulder, his eyes hooded. In just over a week, he’d become the closest thing she’d had to a friend in probably ten years. Most people might find that pathetic or sweet, but not her.

She found it scary. Terrifying, really.

Stupid girl.

Resisting the urge to slap her hands over her ears, she turned to Jake, her voice stiff. “Safe travels and all that.”

He looked from her hand to her face. With a muttered curse, he batted her outstretched arm out of the away and wrapped her in his arms.

She froze. Despite the weight she knew he had lost and the weakness from his injury, Jake was sturdy and solid and warm. For a moment, she sagged in those hard, wonderful arms. It’d been years since she’d been held like this. Her eyes filled.

“Thanks, Charlie. For everything,” he whispered in her ear, his voice rough.

She swallowed, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him right back and snuggle into that strength. Instead, she pushed away with a strangled laugh, watching his eyes narrow as she stepped back, blinking fast. “Anytime.”

Jake opened his mouth, shut it and stalked through the door without another word, his fists clenched at his sides.

With a sigh, Stacia watched him go before turning back to her. “Don’t forget, we’re going to have lunch next week. I need to talk you about something important.”

Numb, she nodded, barely registering Stacia’s reminder or her soft goodbye, hearing only the sound of Jake’s footsteps fading into nothing.

---

His sister looked pensive as she slid into the driver’s seat.

“Stop worrying about Darnell,” Jake bit out as he yanked the seatbelt into place and clicked it home. “He got away again, and I know it was my fault. But I swear, Stace—”

“This isn’t about him. This is about her. Your little Charlie.”

“She’s not my anything.” He chewed his lip and stared out the passenger side window, trying to erase her face from his mind. She looked like she’d been going to cry there, at the end. By now, he knew Charlie well enough to know she wasn’t a person inclined to tears. It had taken everything he had to turn and walk away. But he had to do it.

He had to.

He could feel Stacia’s eyes on him as she started the engine, but his sister didn’t say anything more until they were at the end of the block. “You hurt her. Leaving like this.”

“Well, better now than later, don’t you think?”

“Jake—”

He lifted a hand. “Leave it the fuck alone, Stace. It’s for the best.”

She chewed her lip as he sank back into his seat, resisting the urge to look back. He wouldn’t be able to see Charlie anyway. Even if she were watching, and she wouldn’t be. She was stubborn like that. He closed his eyes, ignoring the weight in his chest. “Has she agreed to the show?

“Not yet.” Stacia shook her head. “But she will.”

“Of course she will.” Despite himself, he smiled. Charlie’s art deserved to be displayed. Deserved to be appreciated and admired. Just like the woman herself. The smile dropped from his face as he watched the city flicker past in shades of gray and brown and white.

“You know, if I do this, her whole life is gonna change. You feel me, baby brother?”

“Maybe a change will do her good.” His hand clenched and his back tightened. God, he was still so stiff. He’d miss Charlie’s heating pad. Then he cursed. He could buy a damn heating pad.

“Yeah, maybe.” But a line of worry had worked its way between his twin’s dark brows.

He shrugged off her concern for his little savior. It was time he let go of the enigma that was Charlotte Gracen and focused on other things. Things he’d been neglecting while he was laid up.

Like finding and destroying the man who had killed their mother.