He swallowed hard and tried to ignore the fantasy images popping up in his head. He was a grown man. A pair of women’s panties shouldn’t get him that distracted. But apparently, his libido was starved enough to revert to teenager mode when activated. Panties…oooh. He took a deep breath, forcing his focus elsewhere, and headed toward the open closet door. “Uh, anything out of the ordinary in here?”
She moved into the doorway, and he heard her under-the-breath curse from behind him. He turned her way and found a look of mild horror on her face. She glanced at him, and then her gaze shifted away. “I, um, was in a hurry this morning.”
He cleared his throat. “Closet looks fine.” He moved to the next door and peeked into the attached bathroom. A stand-up shower and a claw-foot tub surrounded by a sea of white subway tile. Totally not picturing her naked in either one of those. Nope. Not at all. “Clear!”
“Great!” she said, her voice pitching high.
He turned to step out of the bathroom and almost ran into her. She had ditched the pepper mill and phone and had her dirty clothes clutched to her chest.
A tight smile jumped to her lips. “Guess we’re all good then. Why don’t you grab the food from the car, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen?”
Don’t look at the panties. Don’t look at the panties. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Right. Food. I’ll go get that.”
He cringed inwardly. Now he was turning into Tarzan. Me. Asshole. You. Hot.
A loud banging rattled the window, and Rebecca screamed. She dropped the clothes and leapt forward. Instinctively, he grabbed her, pulled her against him, and dragged her into the bathroom, his heartbeat thumping in his ears and the knife clutched in his hand.
But before he could figure out how to get them out of the room or to the phone, the banging came again. Not gunshots. A fist. “Hey, someone need a lock changed?”
The sound of the deep smoker’s voice had him releasing a breath. The locksmith.
&nb
sp; “Yeah, be right there,” Wes called out.
There was grumbling from the other side of the window as the guy trudged back to the front, and Wes could feel Rebecca shift against him.
Against him. Oh, hell. She was pressed along the wall, and they were body to body. Good parts to good parts.
And his good part was quickly taking notice.
He hurried to move away from her, give her some breathing room, but she clung to him, her face pressed to his shoulder. Only then did he realize she was trembling all over.
Uh-oh.
chapter
SIX
Rebecca did not want to be freaking out, but her whole body was shaking without her permission. When she’d heard the banging, she’d thought for sure those boys with the gun had come back. She’d braced for the shots she’d expected to shatter the window. Could already feel the glass cutting her skin, the bullet hitting. Wes had dragged her into the bathroom, blanketing her body with his, which had given her a sense of protection, but it’d also brought back horrid memories of feeling the weight of Finn on her and the pain in her leg when she’d been shot at the school.
Another hard tremor went through her.
“You okay?” Wes asked, his voice soft and urgent against her ear. “Talk to me.”
Only then did she realize that she was still huddled up against him, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt and her face pressed to his shoulder. Clinging. Oh, shit. She quickly released her hold on him, and he stepped back. She scrambled for words, trying to get her nerves in check. “I’m—I’m really sorry. That was…”
“A totally reasonable reaction,” he finished for her.
She looked up and curled her quivering fingers into her palms.
He scowled. “Who the hell goes banging on windows like that this late at night? Damn. Call my cell, man.”
She swallowed hard, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. “Right. But I’m sorry anyway. I’m not usually this…” Her hands fluttered helplessly. “I don’t know what I am tonight.”
“You’re someone recovering from a terrifying night. Seriously, give yourself a break. Even my brain went to gunshots first.” He walked back into the bedroom and set the knife down on the dresser. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
She followed him out, her legs feeling a little steadier beneath her but her muscles still tingling with adrenaline. “I know. I just hate acting like some damsel in distress. I’m usually more together than this and—”