She thought of him day and night, and every evening prayed that one day, one day soon, those cool blue eyes that twinkled with humor when he teased her would become hot and dark with desire for her.
He’d looked at her like that before, like he wanted her, when they first met as teens.
His family had just moved in, and Megan had bumped into him as he helped unload their truck.
He had seemed stunned at his first sight of her, and he’d stared for what felt like minutes, all while
keeping a big box balanced on his shoulders. Then he’d smiled crookedly and said, “I’m Cody,” while an identical-looking fifteen-year-old with eyes not quite as intense stood looking on. He’d jerked his head toward that boy, too. “He’s Ivan.”
They were identical.
Except, maybe, the way they looked at her. One, with hot, friendly blue eyes. The other … with dull, shuttered ones.
“How can people tell you apart?” She’d surveyed them back then, trying to determine their differences.
But Cody had flashed her such an amazing smile, she felt like he—the one with the box and the gaze that made her toes curl—had just become the center of her universe. “That’s the fun part: They can’t.”
He’d made her laugh that day. But when she introduced herself as their next door neighbor and offered him help unloading boxes, he’d shaken his tousled blond head and said, “Nah, we’ve got it. Thanks though.”
But Megan had wanted to talk to him, could not make herself go home to her boring little room and her boring homework, so she’d grabbed a duffel anyway and helped lug it inside.
That had been the mark of their friendship.
Cody would always deny anything Megan offered, like he was too much of a gentleman to take something from her, but she always seemed to know what he really meant and gave it anyway. Then on that day long ago, they had walked into his house only to find Ivan …
The memory of the grisly scene made her heart stop. It had been surreal, like something out of a Freddy Krueger movie. Megan had been so shocked and appalled she’d just stood there as Cody brought himself to ask, to demand of his sixteen-year-old brother, “What have you done!”
She didn’t cry that day. Not when she saw the motionless bodies, saw Ivan toss the weapon aside and break into a run. She didn’t cry at the funeral of Cody’s parents either.
But Megan Banks cried the day they took Cody away from her.
She kept each and every letter she received from him during the years, and sent back letters of her own that told him how scared she was at night—she was certain that his brother Ivan would do something horrible to her family, too.
For years the police had searched and failed to find him, but Cody vowed to her that he would.
But the years passed, the letters stopped coming, and one accidental day while at the cemetery, Megan found herself staring at the shiny blond head of that somber boy to whom she’d confessed her every fear and weakness. Except now he was a man, and he hardly seemed to remember her.
He didn’t say much when she came over to say hi, but then it’s not like she had much to say, either. Her heart had been fluttering so hard she could barely remember what she’d said, or what he’d said back, she only remembered how fast she’d been back in her car, alone, and brokenhearted.
He also seemed to be haunted by that event, for he appeared on her doorstep and said he had three things to tell her: He’d joined the Phoenix Police Department, he’d captured his parents’ killer, and she didn’t need to be scared anymore—he’d be around if she needed him.
If it’s possible to lose your heart twice to the same person, then that was the second, and last, time, she fell in love with Cody Nordstrom.
But while her nightmares of murders were replaced by unsettling fantasies of her and Cody, the unsuspecting man of her dreams had been treating her like sister, friend, and nun for the past couple of years.
She’d been patiently waiting, wasting away the best years of her life while Cody saved the world from scumbags like his brother. She’d hoped that he would notice she wasn’t a little girl anymore, but he never did, so tonight, she’d put it all out on the table and seduce him.
She nervously glanced down at herself—sexy red heels, sheer leopard thong, matching sheer leopard bra, hair perfectly mussed for that just-got-tumbled look—or in this case, tumble-me-now look—plus lip gloss that matched her stilettos … a total transformation from the usual cardigans and jeans with ballet flats.
Cody might not even realize it was her. Oh, no, please please let him get turned on when he sees me.
Meg backed from the bedroom door when she heard a sound downstairs, her heart pounding in anticipation, her palms sweating. The front door creaked and, just as quickly, slammed shut. She tensed when she heard him below—
“Megan?”
His voice. Deep and lush, even from afar it stroked her insides, the sensual baritone a warm caress to her very soul. Her heart skittered as she realized that parking a couple of houses away in order not to spoil the surprise had been a big mistake—the guy was a detective and he rarely missed a thing. Obviously while he’d been out there, surveying the streets before coming into the house, he’d spotted her Altima by the Ellisons’ home.
Spurring herself into action, Megan quickly rushed across the room and jumped on the bed, assuming a sexy pose.