She was ba-a-ack. His father’s latest fling, the petite pixie with the shoulder-length brown hair and mossy-green eyes that flashed her every thought for the world to see.

Was she even of legal age?

“Reilly?”

He had no idea why she bothered to whisper, when she was doing it so loudly she could have woken the dead.

“I think you should wake up now,” she said, and added another teeth-rattling shake. “Come on. Get up and count to ten or something.”

Honest to God, the woman talked more than any woman he’d ever met.

“Just to make sure you don’t go into a coma.” Another shake. “It’s only been five minutes but I can’t remember how long you’re supposed to let someone with a bleeding head injury sleep.”

“I’m not in a coma,” he said with his eyes still closed. It wasn’t really sleep he was interested in, but a way to pass the time other than looking at the oddly sweet and sexy Tessa. “And my head is no longer bleeding.”

“I still don’t think you should sleep.”

All those years in the army and then the CIA, one thing had stuck with him—how to catch quality Zs in five short little minutes. He’d rather have had longer than five minutes. Say the whole night, so the time would have passed painlessly, but slowly he opened his eyes, staring into her wide green ones. “I’m fine.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?” She wriggled three in front of his nose.

He grabbed them. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

“Fine enough to go up the attic access in the ceiling? I think it has good escape potential.”

In the meager but adequate light he took in her slight little form bending over him, her hand on his chest. Not that he minded a woman’s fingers on him, but his head felt like it was going to roll right off his shoulders. And if she shoved him one more time, yet again jarring his head, he was going to roll her pretty little body beneath his to hold her still. “Escape potential,” he repeated, and she smiled at him and nodded.

“All you have to do is climb up. Then shimmy your way through whatever is up there, and drop down through another access in another room. Voilà, escape. I know you said you didn’t grow up here, but you could probably find a phone, right?”

He’d had his cell on him, before he’d made the mistake of actually coming here to see Eddie. Before he’d knocked out three of the four idiots, then realized too late there was one more idiot behind him. Suddenly, he’d seen stars from the hit with a vase probably worth enough to feed a small country.

Which made him the idiot.

And to think, all he’d wanted was to tell his father to knock it off, to stop sending sexy little temps to his office and to stop sending him messages to come visit.

Instead, he’d ended up on the wrong end of a strip search, being held hostage by his own gun no less. He, a guy who knew how to kill a man in more ways than he could count, had been taken down by a few punks with a vendetta against his father.

If that didn’t bite, watching them mess with his gun while he sat in his shorts sure did. And if that didn’t also say how much he’d lost his edge, how dead-on-target his decision had been to get out of the CIA, he didn’t know what did.

He supposed it could have been worse.

They could have killed him.

“Can you? Find a phone?”

The cute young thing was still talking. He let out a long breath and opened his eyes. “Probably.”

“So…will you?”

“No.”

She blinked. “What?”

“No,” he repeated clearly.

“But…why not?”

“Because it’s dark.”

She eyed him from head to toe, making him glad he’d been allowed to keep his shorts because for some reason, even though she drove him crazy, his body didn’t seem to want to agree with his brain on that assessment.

“The dark shouldn’t bother a guy like you,” she finally said.

Think again, sweetheart. “I’ll go at daylight.”

“But…”

“Daylight. Now…was there something you wanted to do to pass the time?”

“No,” she squeaked.

“Fine.” He tried to forget he was stuck with one of his father’s babes. She looked like heaven, he’d give her that, but she talked too much. At the ripe old age of thirty-one, Reilly had come to realize he liked women, he liked them a lot, but he liked them quiet, reserved and controlled…much like himself, actually.

But this one couldn’t be quiet to save her life, much less be restrained and controlled. She was pacing the floor right this very second. “We’re not going to get out of here for a few hours, so you might as well stop wearing a hole in that tile.”

She stopped and looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

And in truth, maybe he had. Certainly the old Reilly would have gotten up and rescued the damsel in distress.

The new Reilly, no longer of CIA, no longer of anything or anyone else except Reilly Ledger of Accountant-4-Hire, his small accounting firm with clients as reclusive as he was. He pushed papers around when and how he felt like it, didn’t take orders from anyone but himself, and never, ever rescued damsels in distress.

Unless it was accounting-related, and, in that case, he charged by the hour.

She put her hands on her hips, a gesture it appeared she used a lot to compensate for being so short, but it did draw his attention to her mid-thigh sundress. It was pale-green with flowers on it and was actually quite demure, except that every time she moved it danced around her tanned, toned legs.

Very distracting, those legs.

“There’s no good reason why we have to stay in here,” she said.

“Other than we’re trapped?”

“Honestly, all you have to do is crawl through—”

“I said no.”

She crossed her arms, plumping up the breasts he imagined could use a little plumping. “Give me one good reason other than you won’t be able to see.”

He stretched, and winced at the ache at the base of his skull. “That’s the reason.”

She stared at him, then tilted her head up and eyed the access, which was indeed wide enough for his body, and indeed a most excellent escape route. “You can’t be afraid of the dark.” She shook her head. “No. I don’t buy it. That would make you a sensitive man, and frankly, I’m not getting a lot of sensitivity here.”

“You’re not getting out tonight.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to do it. I will.” She dropped her arms and straightened, visibly swallowing while she mustered up all her courage. If he hadn’t been pissed and hurting, he might have admired her.

“Boost me up,” she said.

From flat on his back, he laughed, his first all night. “Let me get this straight. You’ll go crawling through the attic in the pitch dark, drop into a room you don’t know, possibly into the waiting arms of the guy I didn’t knock out, and then what? Let them have another stab at you?”

Her determined expression faltered, and the terror came through. “You’re right,” she whispered. “This is really serious, and I think it’s just hitting me. I’m sorry.” Then she blinked those wide, expressive eyes and hugged herself. He felt like a jerk.

He closed his eyes. “You’re just going to have to wait. Eddie will figure out you’re missing and come looking for you.”

“He’s in Cabo with his girlfriend for two days.”

That had his eyes opening again. “I thought you, Statutory Rape Lawsuit Walking, were the girlfriend.”

“You— I—” She sputtered, then laughed. She laughed hard and so genuinely, he actually felt the knot loosen in his belly because she was being honest, which meant his father hadn’t seduced this woman who was too cute and too young for him.

“I’m twenty-six years old,” she finally informed him. “Quite legal. And not that this is any of your business, but I am not your father’s girlfriend. I work in his temp agency.”

“Ah.” He didn’t want to think about why that made him feel a lot better, so he closed his eyes again.

A thunk sounded and with a sigh, he cracked open an eye. Looking small and defenseless, she’d sat on the floor against the far wall, beside the locked door, still hugging herself. Her knees were up, her head down on her arms.

Fine. That was a good place for her, far away from him, with her mouth thankfully shut for once.

He might have been able to pretend he was somewhere else other than lying on a damn cot with no clothes and a bump on the back of his head…if she hadn’t shivered.

He closed his eyes against it but he could have sworn he could hear her teeth rattling together. “Damn it. Get over here.”

She lifted her head, and in the glow from the light outside the window, he saw her expression. Gone was the temporary bravado. Gone were all signs that she was holding up under what even he could admit had been a fairly traumatizing experience. Wet now, her eyes were the color of rain-soaked leaves, and her mouth trembled. The bruises on her throat had blossomed.

Hell. “You all right?”

“Give me a minute.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “I know I’m talking, talking, talking, but that’s nerves and fear. I’ll try to stop, I promise.”

Slowly he sat up. No dizziness, which he figured was a good thing, so he risked standing. Barefoot, bare everything except the essentials, he took the few steps that brought him close. “You take the cot.”

She stared at his knees and shook her head.

“Tessa.”

She ignored him. Since he’d been trying to ignore her for half an hour now, he understood and appreciated the sentiment. But it was possible she was going into delayed shock, and that even he couldn’t ignore, as his training was too ingrained. He hunkered down beside her and, wanting to check her pulse, reached for her wrist.

Startled, she jerked back and into the wall, crying out at the contact and wincing away from him at the same time.

“Go away,” she whispered, mortified to find her eyes spilling over. But he’d scared her, and she really hated that. Before tonight, nothing had scared her.

“Hey.” Lifting his hands, watching her from those light, light eyes, he spoke softly. “It’s just me.”

“I know.” And she did, but it was just that for one bad moment, she’d been transported back into Eddie’s living room, back to that guy in the dirty long underwear shirt, and he’d been reaching for her—

Reilly took her hand. “Just me,” he repeated very quietly.

“I know that.”

“I want you to lie down and try to relax.”

“Relax.” She bit back her hysterical laughter. “Sure. I’ll relax.”

“Great, because you’re wound up tighter than a clock.”

“Yes, well, this hasn’t been exactly a good day.”

“I know.” He contemplated her in silence for a while. “Are you cold?”

Yes. She was cold. And hungry. And tired. And, apparently, letting this whole situation really get to her.

“Come on,” he said. Still on his knees before her, he wriggled his fingers, clearly indicating she could take his hand.

Tessa closed her eyes. She didn’t want to take his hand. She wanted to crawl in a hole and have a meltdown. She wanted to be alone while doing it, thank you very much. “Go to sleep,” she said.

“I can’t do that now,” said the contrary man.

Of course not. Because heaven forbid one thing go her way tonight.

“TESSA, COME ON. Lie down.”

Only a moment ago she’d been holding it together just fine, and then Reilly had to come close with that long, sleekly muscled body glowing in the faint light and go all sweet and sensitive on her.

Ha! As if he could ever even pretend to be sweet and sensitive.

“Come on,” he said gently. Gently.

Didn’t he know that was how to break a woman down—show a tender insight and perception, along with near nudity so magnificent it made her mouth water?

“Tessa?”

And the way he said her name in that low, husky voice… It brought to mind hot summer nights and satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking.

Not that she knew much about hot summer nights combined with satin sheets and wild but sweet lovemaking, but a girl had her fantasies.

And he was a walking fantasy.

Taking her hand in his, he rose. “Up you go.” He led her to the cot with a hand at the small of her back. As if he was kind and compassionate. “Lie down right here.”

No questions at the end of his sentences, not for Reilly. Nope, he never said, “Okay?” or “Would you like?” He was a guy, through and through, and an extremely confident one at that. Not to mention demanding, because really, why ask when clearly he knew everything?

“Tess. Lie down.”

He shortened her name. No one else had ever done that, and it seemed…extremely intimate, and on his lips, almost unbearably sexy.

Suddenly the room felt so small, too small. She needed wide open space and she needed it now. Forget adventure, had she ever said she wanted adventure like this? No! She wanted her cozy little apartment, her sister’s nightly visit bearing ice cream and a good movie. Maybe a call from her brother just to say hi.

“Sit.”

She shivered again—what was the matter with her? She was safe, she was fine, and now she was going to fall apart? But she sat on the cot. It wasn’t as soft as it looked, and didn’t have any covers on it. “I don’t understand this room,” she said, and shivered again, knowing she was talking out of nervous reaction, but unable to help herself. “The rest of the house is so beautiful and warm and comfortable.”

Reilly looked around him and shrugged. “For all Eddie’s wild and extravagant living, he doesn’t like servants—it’s the subservient thing, I guess. At least ones who don’t sleep in his bedroom. Fixing this room would be a waste of his time, he probably never even uses it.”

He talked about Eddie as though he didn’t like him. She didn’t understand that either. “Your father is a wonderful man.”

“What does that have to do with the fact he goes through women like some of us go through water?”

Since she couldn’t deny that, she lay down and curled on her side facing away from him. “I’m not a bed hog. You can have half.”

“It’s not big enough.”

Fine. No skin off her nose. Tessa planned to lie there and wait for dawn, but the late hour, combined with her heavy workweek, not to mention the evening’s events, had taken a greater toll than she’d imagined, and miraculously, she drifted off…

Only to dream about being grabbed from behind, about the thick, muscled forearm cutting off her air—

She jerked straight off the cot and gasped for the breath to scream but when she blinked into focus the small, rather dark room and the silent man standing there propping up the far wall, she sagged.

“Just a dream,” he said.

Imagine that.

“Go back to sleep.”

Right. She sat down, and realized she was chilled to the bone.

“Sleep,” he said. “Not sit.”

“I’m cold.”

He tipped his head back and glanced at the ceiling as if seeking divine intervention. He moved forward until his knees bumped the cot. “There’s no blanket.”

“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself and kept her eyes straight ahead, which landed them…oh, only about eye level with the best-looking male stomach ever.

“Lie down.”

She had no idea why she obeyed him, but with another shiver, she did, and then went flat onto her back, where she held her breath as he lowered himself onto the cot as well. He lay on his side facing her. He held up his head with his hand, setting his other very lightly on her stomach.

Her belly quivered. Other parts did, too, and she looked for a diversion. She found it in the closed access above them. If only he’d just climb up there—

His fingers tightened on her and he leaned in, just a little. “Sleep.”

Right. Since his broad shoulders, chest and amazing eyes filled her vision, she closed her eyes. Only problem, without a visual, her other senses kicked in. His scent came to her, a little soapy, a little woodsy and a lot male. His heat and strength seemed to seep into her chilled bones and, helplessly, she relaxed a bit, because maybe, just maybe, he really was kind and sweet and sensitive behind all that…

“You don’t snore do you?”

Her eyes flew open. “No. Do you?”

“No.” He lowered his head to the cot and closed his eyes.

Hmm. New problem. Now their faces were only an inch apart. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, she guessed, given the shadow on his lean jaw. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes. A complete waste on a man, especially this man. There was a white jagged scar running along one eyebrow, another high on his forehead. Where had he gotten such scars? His nose was long and straight, his mouth fixed in a grim, hard line. His dark hair was so short it stood straight up, and she imagined he rarely bothered with a comb. She wondered if it was soft or—

“Are you going to think this loudly all night?” he asked, but then another shiver wracked her and he let out a long breath. “Okay, but only in the name of shared body heat…” He gripped her around the waist and tugged, turning her at the same time, until she was snuggled firmly against him, her spine to his chest, the backs of her legs to the front of his and all the spots in between perfectly aligned. All in the “name of shared body heat.”

Oh boy.

She tried to go to sleep, she really did. It proved an impossibility while she was holding her breath as she was. Behind her, Reilly lay utterly silent, utterly still, not pressing any of his…parts…against her unduly.

And she’d already noticed he had parts. Oh my, did he have parts.

Scooting free so that she could roll onto her back and look at him, she instantly wished she hadn’t. He was so close, and so warm and well…sexy as hell.

And also annoyed, very annoyed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that…it’s all hitting me.” She was horrified to hear her voice waver and blamed it on adrenaline. Anyone would be feeling it, she assured herself. “It’s making my mind rush and my body shake, and I hate that. I don’t mean to keep you up, but I can’t stop wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“Are they still out there, and what if they decide to come back—”

He put a finger to her lips and waited. When she didn’t try to talk around him, his mouth curved. “There. See if you can hold still, just like that.”

She grabbed his wrist and freed her mouth. “I realize that you can turn off the feelings and emotions with ease, but I can’t. I’m scared, if you want the truth, and I’m feeling a little claustrophobic here. I want…”

His eyes heated. “What?”

“Comfort,” she whispered, and trembled again, her body betraying her, which really made her mad.

A sigh rumbled from him and he settled one big hand at her hip and pulled her closer. There. The comfort she’d wanted. Yet with him looking down at her with that disconcerting gaze, with his body so close, so big and warm and unintentionally sexy—and it was unintentional, she knew he wasn’t trying to drive her crazy—what she felt was far, far from comfort. In an almost out-of-body experience, she whispered his name in a voice no longer quivering with trepidation but with something else entirely.

Something that felt shockingly like…hunger. Need.

She had no idea what was happening to her but it was so much better than being afraid. Infinitely better than the cold. She came up onto her side, so that they were once again body-to-body, only now face-to-face. Reaching up, she slowly slid her hand around the back of his neck and tugged him closer.

His fingers, in the act of gently skimming up and down her hip in the name of shared body heat and comfort, froze. “Tess—”

If this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up. If it was indeed an out-of-body experience, she wouldn’t complain, but something made her put her mouth to the very corner of his.

He held perfectly still. Unnaturally still but she didn’t care. The connection of their mouths had spread warmth through her like nothing else ever had, so she nibbled at the other side, too. Adrenaline? Fear? She didn’t know, didn’t care, because the ball of warmth deep inside her started smoking now. To stoke it into a full-blown fire, she opened her mouth and took his bottom lip in her teeth.

This wrenched a deep rumble from his throat, a warning from the beast, which should have stopped her, would have in any other place and time, but not tonight.

“Tessa. This is—”

Crazy. She knew that. Just as she knew it was the events of the night making her feel this way, but she didn’t care. She settled her mouth on his, hoping he’d give into it, too, so that she wasn’t the only fool.

But Reilly was still rigid, holding himself back with a restraint that she’d admire another time. For now she arched against him, enough to know that his thin shorts couldn’t hide what he was beginning to feel.

“Tess—” he growled with unmistakable warning.

Nope, she didn’t want him to talk. Not now. She opened her lips and touched her tongue to the corner of his mouth, and in doing so, finally, finally unleashed the beast.

He dove headfirst into the kiss then, wrapping his arms around her body and bringing it more snugly to his, thrusting a muscled thigh between hers, opening his mouth wide for a hot, deep, wet kiss that would surely highlight her dreams instead of the nightmares this day had afforded her.

Oh, yes, this was perfect. This was just what the doctor had ordered for her shock. She slid her fingers into his hair, taking notice that it was soft, as not very much else of him was. Her other hand went on a tour of his tight shoulders and solid chest, feeling the smooth glide of muscle beneath skin, and she knew if she had all night it wouldn’t be long enough.

Given how he held her, with the fingers of one hand spread wide, holding her head for the sexy forays of his plundering tongue, Reilly felt the same. His other hand skimmed over her hip, her belly and ribs, so that his long fingers rested just beneath her breast.

More, she thought. She had to have more, she had to feel his touch. Straining against him, she slid down an inch, just enough to have those fingers of his brushing the very underside of her breast, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.

At the sound, he moved of his own accord, cupping her breast in his big hand, rasping his thumb over her nipple and making her toes curl.

She wanted out of her clothes and she wanted him out of his. She wanted to be skin-to-skin, wanted to feel all his impressive strength and heat against her so that she could forget what had happened to her earlier, what could still happen.

Just thinking it made her let out a little cry, and he pulled her closer. “Shh,” he murmured. “Just me. Just you and me…” He danced a hand up her spine, then down again, until she relaxed into him once more, until she was clinging and back on her way to the mindlessness she needed desperately. Then he had her bottom cupped in his palm, pressing her against an impressive erection she wanted cradled more firmly between her aching thighs. Oh, yes.

To get more, she hooked a leg over his, opening herself up so that he could thrust against her, and he did, one glorious thrust, before he went utterly, totally, carefully still.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her mouth, his breathing not nearly as steady as it had been.

“That was quite a bedtime story,” he said, and flipped her over again, to her other side, so that she could no longer see his face.

“But…”

“Shh,” he said again.

She ground her teeth. “I can’t shh.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But…don’t you want more?”

His laugh was low and mirthless. “Hell, yes.”

“Well, then—”

“It’s not going to happen, Tess.”

“Reilly—”

He reached an arm over her shoulder and put his fingers against her mouth. “Shh.”