Jordan until eight that evening. The rash was still going strong, but the doctor had ordered medication to relieve the itching and help her sleep. Kate waited until she’d fallen asleep again, then drove Jordan’s car back to her apartment and took a long, hot shower.
She closed her eyes and let the water cascade over her shoulders. Maybe it would wash away some of the tension. However, each time she tried to clear her mind, visions of her sisters and her company and Reece and mountains of bills swirled through her head.
No, not tonight, she thought. She would not do this tonight. She wasn’t going to let herself get all worked up about the future tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Her stomach began to gnaw at her, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She toweled off and slipped into her pajamas, a soft gray T-shirt and a pair of gray-and-navy-striped boxer shorts, and headed for the kitchen. Jordan always kept a supply of crackers and jars of peanut butter on hand. There were several old TV dinners in the freezer. Kate was pretty sure they’d been there since Jordan had moved into the apartment. Kate opted for the crackers. She got a fresh box out of the cabinet, put it on the counter, and then opened the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. She was unscrewing the top when, without any warning at all, the tears started.
Within seconds she was sobbing. She leaned back against the refrigerator, bowed her head, and cried like a baby. The release felt good. She could have kept it up for at least another half hour if someone hadn’t intruded. She heard a knock on the door, grabbed a paper towel to wipe the tears from her face, and stood frozen hoping whoever it was would go away.
No such luck. Another knock, more insistent this time. She did not want company. Barefoot, she crept to the door and looked through the peephole. Her heart dropped.
There stood Dylan Buchanan, the bane of her existence. God, he looked good. She shook herself. Stop that. He wore a pale blue shirt neatly tucked into his jeans. The shirt was just fitted enough to show off his broad chest and thick biceps. His dark hair was short, and as usual not a strand was out of place.
All of the Buchanan boys were ruggedly good-looking, but Dylan had a little extra something going for him. She thought maybe it was his slow, sexy smile. She only knew one thing for certain. When he turned on the charm, he could melt the most frigid of hearts. Jordan referred to her older brother as the sex machine. Kate thought he had earned the dubious nickname because of all the women he had dated—and no doubt taken to bed—while he was in college. She didn’t think he had slowed down much since then, except maybe for a couple of weeks after he’d been shot. The bullet might have slowed him a little.
He looked tired, she thought.
He pushed the doorbell again and leaned against the wall behind him balancing a pizza box and a six-pack of beer on one hand.
Had he heard the floorboard squeak when she’d stepped on that loose one? She moved away from the door, waited a couple of seconds, and then peeked again. Her heart began to pound. It was an instantaneous reaction and one she couldn’t seem to control. The conditioned response stemmed from the night he had walked in on her in the shower. He’d had a mighty fine time teasing her about it ever since. She simply wasn’t up to sparring with him tonight. In her vulnerable state, he’d eat her alive.
When he winked, she knew he was perfectly aware that she was standing on the other side of the door.
She was going to have to be grown up about this. She would simply open the door and tell him to go away. She looked through the peephole one last time.
The man was a force to be reckoned with, and she was not in the mood tonight. She needed to finish crying and go to bed.
Get it over with, she told herself. She unlocked the double deadbolts and pulled the door open as she said, “Jordan’s
She closed her eyes and let the water cascade over her shoulders. Maybe it would wash away some of the tension. However, each time she tried to clear her mind, visions of her sisters and her company and Reece and mountains of bills swirled through her head.
No, not tonight, she thought. She would not do this tonight. She wasn’t going to let herself get all worked up about the future tonight. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Her stomach began to gnaw at her, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She toweled off and slipped into her pajamas, a soft gray T-shirt and a pair of gray-and-navy-striped boxer shorts, and headed for the kitchen. Jordan always kept a supply of crackers and jars of peanut butter on hand. There were several old TV dinners in the freezer. Kate was pretty sure they’d been there since Jordan had moved into the apartment. Kate opted for the crackers. She got a fresh box out of the cabinet, put it on the counter, and then opened the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. She was unscrewing the top when, without any warning at all, the tears started.
Within seconds she was sobbing. She leaned back against the refrigerator, bowed her head, and cried like a baby. The release felt good. She could have kept it up for at least another half hour if someone hadn’t intruded. She heard a knock on the door, grabbed a paper towel to wipe the tears from her face, and stood frozen hoping whoever it was would go away.
No such luck. Another knock, more insistent this time. She did not want company. Barefoot, she crept to the door and looked through the peephole. Her heart dropped.
There stood Dylan Buchanan, the bane of her existence. God, he looked good. She shook herself. Stop that. He wore a pale blue shirt neatly tucked into his jeans. The shirt was just fitted enough to show off his broad chest and thick biceps. His dark hair was short, and as usual not a strand was out of place.
All of the Buchanan boys were ruggedly good-looking, but Dylan had a little extra something going for him. She thought maybe it was his slow, sexy smile. She only knew one thing for certain. When he turned on the charm, he could melt the most frigid of hearts. Jordan referred to her older brother as the sex machine. Kate thought he had earned the dubious nickname because of all the women he had dated—and no doubt taken to bed—while he was in college. She didn’t think he had slowed down much since then, except maybe for a couple of weeks after he’d been shot. The bullet might have slowed him a little.
He looked tired, she thought.
He pushed the doorbell again and leaned against the wall behind him balancing a pizza box and a six-pack of beer on one hand.
Had he heard the floorboard squeak when she’d stepped on that loose one? She moved away from the door, waited a couple of seconds, and then peeked again. Her heart began to pound. It was an instantaneous reaction and one she couldn’t seem to control. The conditioned response stemmed from the night he had walked in on her in the shower. He’d had a mighty fine time teasing her about it ever since. She simply wasn’t up to sparring with him tonight. In her vulnerable state, he’d eat her alive.
When he winked, she knew he was perfectly aware that she was standing on the other side of the door.
She was going to have to be grown up about this. She would simply open the door and tell him to go away. She looked through the peephole one last time.
The man was a force to be reckoned with, and she was not in the mood tonight. She needed to finish crying and go to bed.
Get it over with, she told herself. She unlocked the double deadbolts and pulled the door open as she said, “Jordan’s
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