Skye pushed past the morning Metro commuters and fumbled for the lanyard at her neck, not interested in dealing with Ash.

Along with the bundled travelers, the frigid wind spilled down the long escalators heading into the DC Metro. A true feat of engineering, the warren of Metro lines and the cavernous design of the platforms kept the busy subway system of the nation’s capital one of the cleanest among large metropolitan cities.

Why was he chasing her? The last thing she needed was some cocksure asshole trying to pick her up.

“Goddamn it. Stop!” Ash yelled.

She ignored him and fished out her Metro pass, but then his hand fell on her shoulder, yanking her to a stop.

With a yelp, she reached for his wrist—or tried to. She’d forgotten about her drink. The top popped off, and hot cocoa spewed directly toward his chest. The steaming liquid splattered across his taut white cotton shirt. Many of those passing by gawked, but as a whole, the crowd parted around them.

“Oh my God!” The empty paper cup tumbled to the floor, more hot cocoa flying, and Skye shook out her hand.

Droplets splattered his jeans and the tops of his Converse sneakers. The tail end of the dark chocolaty goodness coated his hand as well as his shirt.

“Fuck.” He pulled the fabric away from his chest.

Only then did she notice her backpack slung over his shoulder. Her attention shifted from the brown stain on his shirt to the hot cocoa dripping off his hand and back to her bag.

“I’m so sorry.” She prayed the liquid had cooled enough not to scald him.

His nose scrunched. “What the fuck is this?” He leveled the full intensity of his gaze on her. Then, he sniffed his shirt. “That’s not coffee.”

The wet T-shirt outlined a six-pack beneath the fabric, and she couldn’t help but stare.

“It’s cocoa.”

“Isn’t that a kiddie drink?”

“I like it,” she said with a huff.

“Whatever.” He thrust her bag forward. “You left this.”

She tried to take her bag, but his grip stayed firm.

Ash closed the distance between them. “Why did you run?”

The combination of cocoa and his scent did strange things to her insides. There was no rational answer for why she’d run, so she shook her head and tugged on her bag, but he didn’t let go. Instead, the tip of his finger lifted her chin, and forced her to meet the most amazing eyes.

Emerald irises flecked with gold pulsed with a magnetism that drew her in. Dark hair curled over his forehead and swept to the side. His hair framed a strong jaw and square chin peppered with a day’s growth of beard. Her mouth dropped as her attention dipped downward to the expanse of hot cocoa drenching his shirt.

“Give me my bag.”

“What? No, thank-you?” Ash’s eyes sparked with mischief. “And, here I thought I was the one who was raised by wolves and lacked all manners. You know, I didn’t have to brave the cold to chase you down. I could have left your bag there for you to find later, but I figured you might need it.” His brow arched. “Call it my good deed for the day.”

Her eyes flicked to the passersby bundled in wool jackets, scarves, and mittens while he wore nothing but a shirt and jeans. There went that burning in her cheeks again—part thank-you, part guilty shame, part hello, good-looking. Now that her drink saturated his shirt—well, wet T-shirts weren’t just for men to admire.

“I appreciate it. More than you know.”

He rubbed his neck. “You know, it’s been a really long time since anyone’s had the balls to call me out on anything, let alone call me an ass. And I can’t remember the last time a woman ran away from me.”

“Yeah, well, about that…” She couldn’t believe she’d done it either. If it weren’t for all those volatile feelings regarding Spencer, she never would’ve lashed out. Conflict avoidance had been branded into her from a very young age. It was the best way to survive.

He brushed aside her hair and gave a fractional shake of his head. “Don’t.”

Skye jerked back, not comfortable with such an intimate gesture. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Who said I was going to apologize?”

He scrunched his forehead. “Well, you should. You were rude.”

There was a quality about him she couldn’t ignore. When Ash smiled, he lifted her up inside.

“You just told me not to. Besides, you deserved it.” Then, she laughed, playfully punching him on the chest, violating his personal space the same way he had hers.

Holy shit, had she just done that?

“You and your friends were acting like asses, and I was just calling you out on it.”

His hand flew to his chest, as if her words had wounded him. “Point taken. I guess we’ve just kind of gotten used to…” His words trailed off as he released her bag, giving her an opportunity to step back and place distance between them.

She needed that. His proximity was disarming. His smile truly was a thing of beauty. With his good looks and killer smile, he probably got away with a lot, but she wasn’t going to let him use his charm against her.

He breathed out a long sigh and glanced at the escalators and then back down at his shirt. “Sorry about your coffee—um, kiddie drink.”

“It’s not a kiddie drink. It’s hot cocoa. I don’t like coffee.”

“Will you let me buy you another? I feel like I owe you one.”

“Owe me? I ruined your shirt. Let me pay to get it cleaned.” She unzipped the leather pouch hanging from the lanyard and dug out a twenty.

He pushed her hand away. “I’ve got plenty of shirts.”

“But no jackets? You know, it’s below freezing. Most people wear more than a T-shirt in DC during the wintertime.”

“We were stopping for a cup of coffee, not planning on taking a stroll—thus the whole running into the store before freezing our asses off.” He gave another wink and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

“I have to get to work.”

He seemed to consider the situation and then nodded. “It’s definitely warmer in here than out there.” He looked at the ticket machines. “Maybe I can ride with you and buy you one at the other end? How do these things work?”

“Seriously? You’ve never bought a pass before?”

His lips curved at the corners. “Nope.”

“Come on, I’ll show you how this works.”

He followed her to the banks of ticket machines and fished out change from his pockets for the fare to her stop.

“There’s a place that sells coffee at my stop, and I can buy you a shirt there, too.”

“No worries.” He waved off her offer.

She placed a hand on a firm bicep and paused to take a breath. “I insist. I pay for what I break.”

He laughed. “Shirt’s not broken, babe. Just smells like chocolate.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nevertheless, I’m buying you a shirt. It’s the least I can do.”

“And I’m buying your damn kiddie drink.”

When Skye protested, he put an arm around her waist and drew her in. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. The gesture may have been sweet and innocent, but her head spun with the intimacy of that kiss. She held her breath until he let her go.

Ash’s Metro pass popped out of the machine, and he bent to retrieve it, releasing her in the process. She stared at the way the denim of his jeans hung low on his ass and then averted her gaze before he caught her staring again.

She led him toward the turnstile. What the hell was she doing?

With a wave of her commuter pass over the scanner, the red circle turned to a green arrow, letting her through. He followed, whistling a hauntingly familiar tune.

She had no idea what she was doing, but she didn’t really want to think about it.

He certainly was attentive as they moved through the crowds. He stood beside her on the escalator and even placed a hand on the small of her back when they boarded the train. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve such kindness, but perhaps the universe was trying to even out its karmic balance for the crap it had thrown her way with Spencer. And she didn’t feel guilty about being with another man, needing a distraction from the image of skinny female legs wrapped around Spencer's hips.

Ash leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Where’s this coffee shop?”

People moved around them, exiting the Metro and dispersing into the underground shopping area. She glanced at her cell phone. Still twenty minutes until her shift.

“We should get you a clean shirt first.” She led him to a shop selling tourist shirts and rock-band tees.

As she fished through a pile of shirts, he studied the crowd. Several young girls openly stared, but she could understand that. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous.

His lips twitched into a frown, and he grabbed a ball cap from a rack. He put it on as she pulled out a black T-shirt and held it up.

“What do you think of this one?”

He laughed. “Seriously? The Bangles? An eighties girl band? Is this some form of punishment? Or did you pick that one in honor of today being ‘Manic Monday’?” He picked up a pair of sunglasses with mirrored lenses and put them on.

She turned the shirt around and scanned the front. Heat rose to her cheeks. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking at the band’s name.” She glanced up and snorted. “You’re worried about wearing a Bangles T-shirt with those glasses?”

He took the offending shirt from her hands. With a flip and tuck, he had it folded and placed back in the stack. “What’s wrong with the glasses? Besides, I want a souvenir.”

He wasn’t local. The tension in her spine eased, and her shoulders loosened. She relaxed enough to smile and was willing to flirt a little, knowing he wouldn’t be around for long.

He pointed to a shirt in the window. “How about that one?”

She glanced at the T-shirt emblazoned with the words Angel Fire and the band’s iconic logo. “You want that one?”

“I was wondering what you thought of it.”

“The shirt or the band?”

Angel Fire definitely wasn’t an eighties girl band. They were hard rock to the core. And the shirt would look good on him. It was black with the outline of a guitar sporting angel wings on fire, an iconic picture from one of the most popular rock bands in recent history.

She pulled out an extra-large shirt and held it up to his chest to check the size. His eyes widened.

“Do you want it or not?” She lowered the shirt. “What’s the matter? You picked it out.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” He shook his head, a dark furrow etched between heavy brows. His eyes were hidden to her, buried behind the stupid mirrored lenses.

“Yes. I ruined your shirt. Honestly though, I need to get going.” She pulled out her cell phone and checked the screen. “My shift starts in ten minutes.” She lifted the shirt. “Yes or no? Bangles or Angel Fire?” She found another one. “Or what about Metallica?”

He laughed. “I’m definitely an Angel Fire man. Although Metallica rocks.”

“Good.” She took the Angel Fire shirt to the cashier and pulled out her credit card from the lanyard at her neck.

“You’re not like most girls,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Ash pointed at the lanyard. “That’s a pretty odd-looking purse.”

“Well, when you work in a hospital, purses don’t work. You learn to keep what you need close at hand.”

He grabbed the lanyard, and his fingers brushed against her breast. It was a quick motion, but was it intentional?

He took a closer look at her ID while the cashier rung up the sale. “Skye. Pretty name.” He looked over the top of the glasses. “You’re a nurse?”

Typical. “Really? I’m female, so that’s what you assume?” She pointed to the two letters after her name. “MD. That means doctor. I hate stereotypes.” She waited for his apology.

The cashier finished her sale and rung up Ash’s ball cap and ugly glasses. He paid cash and wore them out of the shop after pulling off the tags. “I’m full of charm today, aren’t I?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face, but her laughter died in her throat when he pulled off the soiled shirt and tossed it in the trash. Holy hell, six-pack anyone? A woman walking past stared as well. The unfortunate woman was so focused on Ash’s bare chest that she plowed into the trash can in front of her. Skye smothered a laugh.

Ash took the bag from her hand and fished out the Angel Fire T-shirt. In the blink of an eye, all that glorious flesh was covered by black cotton and a guitar with flaming wings.

“Now, tell me where this coffee shop is, and I’ll buy you that drink.”

“Sorry. Time’s up. Gotta go.”

It was a shame they didn’t have more time.

“Can’t you be a few minutes late?”

“I don’t like being late. Besides, after a twelve-hour shift, you’re pretty beat. It’s nice when your relief shows up early.”

“Well, at least let me walk you there.”

Skye nodded because she really wasn’t ready to see him go.

He led her through the underground mall and up to street level, and then he pulled up short as Forest Skye Memorial Hospital dominated the landscape.

She had to tug him forward. “Come on. I work in the emergency department.”

“Damn, that place is huge.” The behemoth structure of metal and glass glittered in the early morning light.

“It opened less than four years ago. Took seven years to build. I was in the first group of residents who trained here, and now, I’m on the staff.”

Ash pulled at her lanyard and checked her badge. His gaze darted to the glowing hospital signage and dipped back to her name. “Forest Skye Memorial Hospital. Any relation?”

Skye blurted one mild, “Ha!” and tossed her head back. Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled him along the sidewalk, unwilling to answer that question. “Come on. It’s freezing.”

She enjoyed the way his hand enveloped hers but frowned as a gust of chilled air swirled around them. The hairs on his arms stood on end although he didn’t seem otherwise affected by the cold.

“I should have bought you a sweatshirt.”

He tugged her close. “You can keep me warm.”

“You don’t have to walk me to work.” But if she were honest with herself, she wasn’t ready to let him go. A few more minutes of his captivating smile would make the rest of her day so much better.

“I know, but I want to.”

Normally, she would have pulled away. Ash was a stranger, but there was an easiness between them, a familiarity she hadn’t experienced in a long time. And it was cold, the perfect excuse to snuggle into the warmth of his body.

He brought her to the doors of the emergency department and pulled up short, giving a low whistle. “Big place.”

Empty ambulances filled two of the five loading bays. She pulled him over to the staff entrance, an awning sheltering them from the cold. With a practiced flick of her badge, she activated the exterior security lock that opened the outer set of doors. She gestured for him to follow her inside to the small antechamber.

For a moment, the world narrowed down to the two of them. One set of doors led to the frigid world outside. The other set would take her into the chaos of one of the country’s busiest trauma centers. But, for now, they were alone. Sadly, their time was almost at an end. She tried to memorize the planes of his face and the hard angle of his jaw.

He pressed the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. “I feel bad about your drink.”

Her knees nearly bucked, weakened under the press of that thumb. He had found a way inside her private bubble, and the way he took her in with those mesmerizing eyes made her world tilt and tremble.

When he cupped her jaw, her stomach tumbled. Pressing her palm to her belly did nothing to calm the riot going on in there.

And then it happened. His eyes shifted between her mouth and her eyes, and he leaned in for a kiss.