“Shay?” His voice was strained with disbelief. He leaned back, and his weight shifted, pressing his lower body against hers. A finger touched her hair and then brushed her face, like a blind man searching for proof. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He was supposed to be out of the country, as usual, trying to save the world from deranged dictators and terrorists.
“I thought someone had broken in. I didn’t know you were coming.”
Stillness settled around them again. The only movement, breaths mingling, chests moving in unison, and was that a stirring of another sort, lower? The memories started a fresh assault. She shoved against his shoulders. “Get off me.”
“Sorry.” The weight lifted, and he helped her to her feet. She yanked free, using the five steps it took to reach the light switch to compose her face. She’d always wondered what she would do if she saw him again, what she would say. What he would say. She’d never pictured it happening like this. Her hand hovered over the switch. Drawing in a steadying breath, she flipped on the light, squinting at the brightness, and turned. Her mouth dropped open.
The essence of him was still there; the boy next door who’d kept her secrets, bandaged her scrapes, and comforted her against his scrawny chest, but there was nothing scrawny about him now. He was tall, with broad shoulders and lean muscles undisguised by his soft gray T-shirt and worn jeans. Dark hair brushed his collar, giving him a rugged, dangerous look. His face was still stunning. Strong jaw, straight nose, and those intense hazel eyes that even at nineteen had tempted married women to watch as he walked past. Her gaze caught on the scar above his eyebrow, a trophy from the motorcycle wreck when he was sixteen, and she remembered the terror of finding him sprawled on the rocky hill, so still she thought he was dead.
He appeared dumbstruck as well, staring as if she were the ghost. He swallowed hard, eyes moving down her body and back up.
Shay remembered what she wasn’t wearing. She grabbed the edge of her damp T-shirt and stretched it down as far as she could, which further outlined her breasts. “Could you hand me that sweater on the coatrack?” It was a long, belted cardigan, probably dusty, but she didn’t care.
He blinked and nodded, reaching for the sweater. A tattoo covered the side of his neck. A series of swirls. Maybe it was something to do with Special Forces. She accepted the long sweater and slipped her arms inside, watching as he picked up his gun and holstered it.
“Sorry about that. You don’t smell like you.” He sniffed, nostrils flaring inappreciatively. “Smells like a party.” His gaze locked on her left hand. “Are you alone?”
“Yes. A guy on the airplane spilled bourbon on my shirt.”
“What are you doing here?”
Her first reaction was to say it was her home, she could come whenever she wanted, but it hadn’t been her home for nine years, so some explanation was due. “I was supposed to meet Renee in Leesburg, but she wasn’t answering her phone. Since I had to drive this way, so I thought I’d stop here first.” And face old ghosts. “I was surprised the gate wasn’t locked.” It stayed locked when she was here.
“Marcas has been working on it,” Cody said, darting another glance at her left hand.
“How long are you staying here?” she asked, fiddling with the belt.
He frowned, his hazel eyes so familiar, yet different, as if something fierce lurked in the depths. “I live here,” he said. “Next door, I mean. I’ve been here for months. Nina didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Shay bent and picked up the candlestick to hide her shock. He lived here. Her reports on Cody were always the same, off fighting battles in some godforsaken place, putting himself in death’s way so other people could live free. And now, here he was standing in front of her, larger than life, and all the accusations she thought would come shooting off her tongue if she ever saw him again had dried up and blown away. All she could think about was twining her fingers in his hair and kissing him, finding out if his lips felt as familiar as his body had, pressed against hers. Get a grip, Shay. “Are you still Special Forces?”
“No. I’m a PI now. I have an office in town. I’m surprised Nina didn’t tell you.”
Why hadn’t she? If Shay had given in to Nina’s pleas and moved back here, it would have been one heck of a shock. She licked her lips. “I need a drink.”
Cody nodded, watching her. “Nina has wine, but you don’t…” he cleared his throat. “Do you drink wine now?”
She’d tried it once, when she was sixteen. They’d sneaked one of Nina’s bottles out to the lake. Half a bottle later, Shay threw up in the bushes while Cody held her hair. “No.” But it might be a good time to start. “I’ll see what’s in the fridge. I fell asleep as soon as I got here.” She hadn’t even brushed her teeth or washed her face. She probably had mascara smeared under her eyes.
“Should be something here. We try to keep a few things on hand in case Nina pops in.”
Shay set the candlestick by the stairs, and Cody followed her into the big kitchen where she’d eaten most of her childhood meals, more often than not, with a MacBain boy or two, sometimes all three, joining them at the table. The Four Musketeers, Nina had called them.
Shay found two cans of soda in the fridge and turned to find Cody leaning against the counter studying her, something working hard behind his eyes.
“Still like Pepsi?” she asked.
He nodded. Shay glanced at him again, wondering if she could just light into him and demand answers after nine years, or if there was some kind of etiquette regarding the first face-to-face with a best friend who had betrayed you. “Sorry I bit you.”
Cody rubbed his shoulder and a smile played at his lips, sending a tingle blasting through Shay’s chest. “You’ve still got wicked teeth. Knee’s not bad either.” He started to cup his groin, but caught himself. “You didn’t forget everything we taught you.” His smile faded. “You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” Where was this concern years ago, when it mattered? She eyed the Glock holstered at his side. “Do you always carry a gun?”
“When I’m working. Do you always carry a candlestick?”
“I heard a noise. Aunt Nina said there were mice.”
“You were going to throw the candlestick at a mouse? Well, you always did have good aim.”
Thanks to the endless hours of practice they’d bullied her into.
“She wants us to get a cat for the barn—” he met her eyes and looked quickly away. “I’ve been meaning to call an exterminator.” His gaze narrowed. “What’s wrong? You seem jumpy.”
Of course she was jumpy. She’d intended to confront memories, not Casper in the flesh. “I had a break-in,” she blurted out, not wanting him to know it was his presence that had upset her. “I guess I’m still a little shaken.” She handed him the Pepsi, keeping her lashes at half mast in case he could still see through her lies.
“Your house?”
“My shop. The police arrested the guy after I left.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Not that I could tell.” She hadn’t stayed long enough to check. “The guy claimed it was all a mistake.”
“Nina said you sell antiques.”
“I do. I’m opening another shop in Leesburg with Renee.” Shay wished she had gone straight there. Renee was bound to show up sooner or later. Cody’s eyes flared at the mention of Renee. Shay knew why Renee didn’t like Cody, but what did Cody have against Renee? They’d always gotten along before Renee moved. “What made you decide to move back home?” Shay asked.
The overhead light reflected in his eyes, highlighting flecks of gold. “It was just time.” He set the drink down and ran his finger over a gouge that had been in the pine table for as long as Shay could remember. “Lots of memories here. Shame for the place to sit empty. Nina’s crazy to choose Matilda over this.”