Flashback (11 page)

J
AIL WASN'T NEARLY
as adventurous as it'd been that time Kenzie had been arrested on her soap. Then she'd had a costume director and a makeup artist. Oh, and nice, soft, flattering lights. Plus she'd been able to walk off the set when the director had yelled “cut”, and had sipped her iced tea and laughed it all off.

No such luxuries today.

Real life sucked.

She was given her phone call—which went to her attorney, who promised to work on getting her out. With Kenzie's own checkbook, of course.

After several hours in a holding cell, during which she contemplated the odd and unwelcome turn her life had taken, and also chewed on a few nails, she was handed her see-through baggie of personal belongings—that was twice in two days—and shown the door.

Standing in front of it wasn't her attorney, but her own gorgeous, personal savior.

Aidan was dressed in his firefighter uniform, which told her he'd come right from the job. He still wore his firefighter badass expression, too, and was looking more than a little bit temperamental as well.

Yeah.
Not exactly thrilled to see her.

Nor was she thrilled to see him.

Okay, so a little part of her was. The bad girl part of her, which reared its horny head and begged
Oh, please can we have him just one more time?

She ignored that and her quivery belly, and tried to brush past him.

“What, no thank you?” He shifted so that she was forced to bump into him.

Backing up, she put her hands on her hips and sent him a glare as mean as she could conjure up after a few hours spent in jail. “I didn't call you.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

There were several people milling around, all from a different part of society than she was used to. The guy closest to her might have been fifty, or a hundred and fifty, it was hard to tell with the multitude of hats and coats he was wearing, despite it being summer. He pulled out a cigarette and a match, and even though she saw it coming, when he struck the match to the matchbox and the little
whoosh
hit her ears, she cringed.

Aidan was there in a second, holding her steady, which only further embarrassed her. “Easy.”

“Damn.” She let out a shaky breath. “What
is
that?”

“Post traumatic—”

She waggled a finger in his face. “Don't say it.”

“—stress. Why didn't you call me, Kenzie?”

“Who did?”

“Tommy.”

“Rat-fink bastard.” It was coming back to her, her childhood here—the small town mentality, the utter lack of secrets, the way everyone stuck their nose in everyone else's business. She'd had enough of that from her early years to last her a lifetime.

She and Blake had been kept together as they'd gone into the child care protective services, where they'd landed in a total of three foster homes, each as kind and as warm as they could possibly be, and for that she was more than grateful, she was also lucky—but she'd never really settled into any of them. She didn't tend to settle, didn't tend to get comfortable; it was what had made her so certain Aidan was the one.

Look how that had blown up in her face.

When she'd gone off to Los Angeles and begun acting, she'd found heaven. Pretending to live someone else's life, already all scripted out? Perfect. She'd loved it.
Still
loved it.

But a small part of her knew that she couldn't always rely on a script. That at some point she would have to wing it. She'd eventually need a life, a
real
one, and she'd always figured that life would somehow be entwined with her brother's, maybe even right here in Santa Rey….

But now there was nothing for her here, nothing except proving Blake's innocence.

Aidan caught her arm as she stepped outside. She yanked free and he put up his hands, letting her step away from him as they walked outside. He leaned a hip against a tree, looking big and tall and attitude-ridden as he eyed her like she was a lit fuse.

His hair had been finger-combed at best. She could smell soap and man, and the potent mix of testosterone and pheromones boggled her mind. If she lived to be two hundred years old, she'd never understand her attraction to him. Back in her L.A. world, she had access to dozens of gorgeous men. Hundreds.

But while some had been nice dalliances, none of them had ever really gotten anywhere. Probably because a good number of the men she met were like her.

Pretend.

Not Aidan. He lived life with his eyes wide open, no script needed. His job demanded a lot of him, and he was tough because of it, but he hadn't ever shied away from something just because it was hard. Except for her.

“Thanks for bailing me out,” she conceded.

“Need a ride to your car? Or are you going to manage that on your own, too?”

The sun was warm and bright, and she stood still in it for a moment, tilting her head up to it, inhaling deeply. Then she turned to the man who had once been her everything. Whether she liked it or not—and for the record, she didn't—he could still stop her heart, make her pulse race, and worst of all, make her hormones stand up and shimmy. “Yeah. A ride would be great, if you don't mind.”

He let out a sound that told her what he thought of that, and took her to his truck.

“About that ride…” She slowed, dragging her feet. “Everything's still booked. Maybe there's something—”

“You know where there's something.” He turned on the engine and pulled out of the lot. “At my place.”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Yeah no?”

She sighed. “It's just that staying with you seems like a whole lot of trouble I don't want to face.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to lead you on.”

“I thought you enjoyed exacting your revenge on my body.”

With more than a slight twinge of regret and,
dammit,
guilt, she avoided his gaze.

“Come on, Kenz, be honest. You're not afraid of hurting me. You're afraid
you'll
get hurt.”

Wasn't that the plain ugly truth.

“You made sure I understood that you'd changed,” he said softly, looking over at her for a beat before returning his attention to the road. “Now you have to understand something. I've changed as well.”

Yes. Yes, he had.

“Look, you wanted to know what happened all those years ago?” he asked. “I got scared, that's what the hell happened. I'd always lived my life without letting people inside my heart, where they could hurt me. But you got in, and, yeah, that terrified me. You're doing it again, by the way, getting in, and I'm not any more thrilled about it now than I was then.”

Something warm slid through her at his words, and the low, rough tone in which they were spoken. Warm, and dangerously seductive.

He pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine, turning in his seat to face her. “You'll have to make do without the five-star rating.” He paused a beat. “Although there are certain five-star services I
do
offer.”

When she met his gaze she saw the sparkle of pure wicked trouble in his eyes.
Oh, boy.
“Aidan—”

“I'm talking about my breakfasts, which you happened to miss out on. And then there's my massage specialty.” He didn't add any obvious eyebrow waggle or other suggestive gesture, but his eyes crinkled and she knew he was
thinking
suggestively.

Yup.
Dangerously seductive. She already knew how erotic his touch could be, just how earthy, how naughty, and she wasn't ready to go back there. Not if she intended to be the one to walk away this time.

And there would be walking away when this was over…

Even while she was thinking it, he took her hand and led her to his door. Her instinct was to make a smartass comment to piss him off, chase him away, and yet she didn't do anything but allow him to open the door for her. Once she started to step inside, he stopped her. When she met his gaze, he asked, “You planning anything else I should know about?”

“Like?”

“Shit. Anything. It could be anything.”

The sun was bright. The surf behind them loud and choppy. She loved the scent of the ocean. She'd missed that, working long, long days on set in the middle of Los Angeles. Now that she'd been cancelled, she could see taking a laptop out on the beach and just writing to her heart's content if she wanted. “My immediate plans involve a shower.”

“That's all?” he asked so warily that she smiled.

“Yeah. That's all.”

He touched the corner of her smiling mouth. “That's a good look for you.”

“What are you talking about, I smile all the time.”

“On TV, maybe. But I haven't seen much of it here.”

“Well, maybe that's because I was in a fire, then facing the fact that my brother's dead, and then…” And then she'd been in his bed, naked, panting, sobbing his name, holding onto his head as his mouth and then his body had taken her to heaven—

“
That
look,” he said, pointing at her. “I want to know what you were thinking just then to put
that
look on your face.”

She crossed her arms over her suddenly aching breasts. “Nothing.”

“You are such a liar,” he chided softly.

He gestured her inside his place, and she took a better look around than she had when she'd been fresh out of the hospital, and then fresh out of his bed. She saw the pretty windows, the wood floors he'd done himself, and felt another ache, this one in her chest.

She knew that growing up, Aidan hadn't had much of a stable home life, either. He'd been shuffled around as much as she had. Going into the fire academy had changed his life, given him a team, but more than that, his first
real
friendships. The kind of friendships that would last, the kind of friend that had his back no matter what. He still hadn't had any real understanding of what that meant when she'd gone off to Los Angeles, but she could tell it had come to him in the years since. There was an easy confidence about him, an air that said he'd been well liked, well taken care of…

Well loved.

Her heart did a little flop at that because she hadn't given herself the same. Oh, sure, she was liked. She'd been taken care of. But loved by someone other than Blake?

No.

And if she took away the fame, leaving just small-town girl Kenzie Stafford, what would actually be left?

The answer was as unsettling as the thought, especially given that now she really was without that fancy job. “Aidan?”

He'd headed for the kitchen, but stopped and turned to her. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“For bailing me out. For waiting to make sure I was okay.”

He leaned back against the wall and studied her. “So why did you do it, Kenz? Why did you go back after I'd warned you not to—” He broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. I just heard my own words and realized
exactly
why you did it.
Because
I warned you not to.”

“Am I that stubborn?”

“Hell, yeah, you're that stubborn.”

She rolled her eyes, then caught the flash of humor in his. He was laughing at her, and not with her, which should have made her defensive and possibly bitchy, but in spite of herself, she let out a laugh, too. “Okay, so it wasn't the smartest thing I've done. But it was the right thing.”

“How about stealing my file, was that the right thing, too?”

She let out a low breath. “I was wondering when we were going to get to that.”

He just looked at her, big and bad and…patient. So damn patient. She pulled the file from her bag and handed it over. “Thanks.”

“I'd say you're welcome, if I'd given it to you.”

“You'd have done the same thing in my position.”

“You think so?”

She looked into his compelling eyes and felt her breath catch. “Okay, no. You would have asked. But maybe you're a better person than I am.”

His eyes expressed his surprise at that statement. They both knew she hadn't always considered him such a great guy. “People change,” she whispered, mirroring his words back to her. “Right?”

“That's right.” The smile hit his eyes before his lips slowly curved, and there was an answering quiver that began in her belly.
Oh, boy.
Not good. He was standing too close, and not being annoying or antagonistic, and suddenly it all seemed too intimate.