Thank God, he didn’t seem to notice.

  As they passed, the hunky valet gave her a long look and tipped his white cap. Rafe glared at him and took her hand, leading her into the refrigerated interior, complete with huge fresh flower arrangements in classic urns and a darkened bar that wouldn’t see action until tonight, well after Rafe had left town.

  Sudden tears lashed at her eyes, stinging the sleep-deprived sockets. Kerry looked at the ceiling, willing them away. If Rafe didn’t care, thought parting as easy as flushing the toilet and that he’d forget her by nightfall, then by damn, she’d give the same impression.

  Why let the man know she was going to love him for the rest of her life? He would never reciprocate.

  “Here’s your bag.” Horrified at her breaking voice, Kerry cleared her throat. “Thanks for everything. You have my cell phone number if something happens with the money. Have a good trip back.” She stuck out her hand.

  Rafe looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. He dropped both bags on the cool ceramic tile and grabbed her hand. He used it to yank her forward, flush against his body. As he wound an arm around her waist, she could feel how completely aroused he was. And no one was around to care, except a small woman behind the front desk in the distance, apparently looking through paperwork.

  “Kerry, I don’t know what’s going on in your mind, but don’t give me some bullshit that you’re not upset.”

  His gray gaze softened and delved into her, melting her heart that much more. Parting was painful beyond believing, and his tenderness would only kill her. Already, she knew it was going to take years to get over him, if she ever did. He was only making it worse . . . and better. Rafe was sweet, in his gruff way. Seeing this final display of warmth only made her love him more.

  “A lot on my mind,” she said, discreetly trying to wriggle free.

  His grip didn’t give an inch.

  “If you’re worried about Mark, don’t be. This plan isn’t perfect, but I think it will work. In the end, someone will want that money and come after it. I’ll be watching.” The hand at her waist splayed across her lower back as he raised the other to cup her cheek in his palm. “If you’re disappointed that this . . . thing between us can’t go on, try not to be. We had a great time. Intense, but not meant to last. I’m not good for you, babe. I don’t know how to be with a woman if it involves more than sex. I’d only break your heart.”

  You already have. She swallowed the lump of pain in her throat, blinking to force back fresh, hot tears.

  “I should go,” Kerry managed to choke out.

  He tensed, tightened his grip on her. But he nodded. “Yeah, I have bank deposits to monitor, phone calls to make. I want you home. You being safe, that’s the most important thing.”

  If it was only about her safety, if Rafe truly wanted her with him, she’d risk anything to stay here, watching those deposits with him, sharing smiles, making love . . . planning a possible future. He didn’t want any of that, and she’d only humiliate herself by asking.

  “Bye,” she murmured.

  Before she could think, move, Rafe swooped down, landed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her lips. Heart bursting, flooding her body with love and need and pain, she opened to him and kissed back one last time with every ounce of feeling in her body. Suspended for long moments in emotion, the kiss felt like something out of time. No one else existed. Nothing around them mattered. Only his mouth, connecting his soul to hers, seeming to tell her that he cared and regretted their parting.

  Too bad his kiss lied.

  Abruptly, he lifted his head and picked up his luggage. His full lips still damp, he whispered, “Bye, babe.”

  Kerry barely made it to her car before the tears started to fall. The gray clouds threatened rain, but she beat them to the punch and cried all the way home. Luckily, traffic wasn’t moving fast or she’d likely have been off in a ditch on the side of the road.

  The dingy house she rented stood still and hot and unwelcoming. She flung herself on the lumpy secondhand couch and curled up into a ball, tears flowing.

  How had it happened so fast? One minute Rafe had been just the sexy target of her scheme, the next minute the most exciting lover of her fantasies. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was the man willing to risk prison time to help her . . . but not risk his heart to stay.

  A knock on the door boomed through the little room, startling her. Rafe? Surely he could have found her address on the Internet if he’d wanted to.

  Drying her tears on her shirt as she raced to the door, she opened it, heart bursting with hope, only to feel it fall to her feet in one lurching rush.

  “Jason?”

  “I was on my way to work and thought I’d take a chance to see if you were back. You okay, sweetheart?” He rushed in, shutting the door behind him, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Damn it, that bastard made you cry, didn’t he?”

  No more tears, not unless she was alone, she vowed to herself.

  Instead, she pasted on a self-deprecating smile. “My fault. The ending . . . it was just a little abrupt. I’ll get over it.”

  There was a whopper of a lie, guaranteed to earn her a spot in Hell—if kidnapping a stranger and having amazing sex with him for days on end didn’t already count.

  One of Jason’s hands resting on her shoulders drifted down her back. “I hate to see you hurt.”

  “Thanks. You’re good to me.”

  “I always will be.” Jason’s blue gaze locked onto hers with surprising intensity.

  He’d never looked at her like this before. Was he trying to say something?

  “You know, I can help you get over him.” One of his hands drifted down her arm, thumb brushing the side of her breast as he went. “I’m here for you if you need me, however you need me.”

  Shock lanced her brain. She stiffened. Jason? Her buddy Jason? Was he . . . hitting on her? She felt her mouth drop open.

  “You’re surprised. Haven’t you thought about it, even once?”

  No. “I—I . . .”

  “I’ve thought about you a million times. I stayed away because Mark wanted it that way. You seemed too innocent. But now you need someone. I can be that someone.”

  Jason was seriously coming on to her. Shocking. “You’ve thought about having sex with me?”

  His soft laugh told her that she’d understated her question. “All the time, sweetheart. But now . . . something about you has changed. That passion I always suspected you had is all over your face. I could punch Dawson for hurting you, for touching you even, but he unlocked something inside of you I can nurture. But it’s about more than sex. I want to take care of you.”

  Ohmigod! He was serious. Never had she suspected Jason of anything more than being a friend, or wanting more than friendship in return. Rafe had been right—she’d been blind to every clue that pointed to Jason’s interest. How could she have been so wrong?

  “But—but . . . Mara? I thought you were going to ask her to marry you.”

  “What gave you that impression?” He frowned. “I like her. She’s a great person, a lot of fun. I don’t care deeply for her. She doesn’t fire me the way you do. Give me a chance to make everything better for you.”

  “You’re not just talking pity sex?”

  “Pity?” Jason’s steady blue gaze pinned her in place. “Lust, want, caring, amazement, hope, yes. Never pity.”

  How had she missed the signs of Jason’s interest? Rafe had sensed it right away, before even clapping eyes on her brother’s best friend. If Rafe had been right about that . . . had he been right about Jason’s guilt?

  Kerry gasped. Could she actually be his motive to frame his own best friend?

  When she tried to back away, Jason held firm.

  “You’re hurting me,” she protested.

  “Sorry.” His grip eased slightly but he did not release her. “I’ll never hurt you, not like that asshole Dawson. It kills me to be pretty damn sure that he used your body in every way possible, then crawled out of your bed and broke your heart.”

  Kerry flushed, embarrassment and pain washing over her in a hot wave. But she couldn’t contradict Jason. At moments like this, she hated the fact she was so easy to read.

  “I’d never do that,” he murmured. “Well, at least not the breaking-your-heart stuff.”

  But he would use her body in every way possible, if she let him. Kerry did not find that thought comforting in the least.

  “Um, how about coffee?” She managed to squirm free and all but sprinted to the kitchen.

  He followed. Uh-oh, bad move. Her galley kitchen was both narrow and short. Jason stood in the entry, blocking the only exit.

  “No thanks. Kerry—”

  “What time do you have to be at work? It’s already nine.”

  “The bank is open late on Tuesday, remember? I don’t go in until eleven.” He sidled closer.

  Kerry swallowed. He didn’t need to be in for almost two hours, and she lived only three miles from the branch.

  Mind racing, she searched for some way to change the subject, or end this altogether.

  “I’m really tired. Would you understand if I just wanted to go to bed—”

  “I’d love the chance to go with you.” He jumped forward and took her hands. “Let me be with you, ease you. I can comfort you and take your mind off Dawson.”

  As if to prove his point, Jason leaned in and set his lips over Kerry’s. She tried to back into her rickety wood veneer cabinets, but his hand cupped the back of her head and held her still against him.

  The kiss started soft and slow, proving how gentle he could be. His fingers wove tenderly through her hair.

  “God, I’ve waited forever to touch you,” he whispered against her cheek.

  Her mind frighteningly blank, Kerry didn’t know what to say, to do. Frozen, she felt his lips cover hers again. Even when she did not return the kiss, he groaned. Against her belly, his erection grew. She felt no arousal, only shock. Faint sadness tinged the mix. How could she have been so wrong about Jason’s platonic friendship?

  Did she know him at all, really?

  Suddenly, he ended the kiss, stared deep into her eyes. Kerry shook her head, silently asking him to stop, since shock had frozen her throat.

  “Don’t say no, not without giving me a chance to show you how I feel, how good we could be together.”

  “No, Jas—”

  He covered her mouth with an aggressive kiss that bespoke pent-up passion. The softness in his lips had been replaced by a harsh drive to possess. The tip of his tongue played at the seam of her lips.

  Kerry wrenched away.

  “Open up, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “Please. I can make you feel so good. You’ll forget him.”

  As he charged forward again, Kerry wedged her hands between them, flat against his chest. She pushed, sending him stumbling away.

  “Stop! Mark wouldn’t want this. I don’t want this.”

  He tensed, paused. “I can see that I surprised you. You need time.”

  “Jason, you’re my friend,” she said, eyes imploring. “Just my friend.”

  He bristled, jaw tensing. “I could be a lot more if you’d let me.”

  “No.” She swallowed. “I love Rafe.”

  “After a few days? It can’t be real love.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  His mouth pinched into a thin line. “He doesn’t love you.”

  The truth of that statement made grief sink like a cold black stone in her gut. “That doesn’t change how I feel.”

  “He doesn’t deserve you!” His fists clenched. “He’s taking your devotion and throwing it back in your face. He doesn’t give a damn if he’s trampling on your heart. He’s going back to New York, where he’ll probably never give you a second thought because he’s such a jerk, and you’re going to cling to his memory and not give another man, one who really wants you, a chance to form a solid relationship. Kerry, think about how wrong that is.”

  Put that way, she did sound dumb. But it didn’t change how she felt, deep inside. Some people made decisions with their heads. She always made them with her heart. Her head told her that someday she’d have to get on with her life. Her heart told her it didn’t have to be today. It knew she loved Rafe. Period.

  “I can’t force myself to stop loving him. I—I’m not ready to think about anyone else. And right now I have to focus on helping Mark. His trial starts in less than a week.”

  “Damn!” he swore and backed out of the kitchen. “You’re not even willing to give me a try? I’ve waited—God, like four years—for the right time.”

  “Now isn’t the time. I don’t know if it ever will be. You’re a good friend, but I don’t think I can be more.”

  “This is his fault. Where is the asshole?”

  “Rafe? It doesn’t matter—”

  “It definitely does. Where is he?”

  “I’m not telling you. You’ll only fight for no reason. You punching him doesn’t solve anything. Think about it, Jason. It wouldn’t be fair for me to come to you with someone else in my heart.”

  “I’ve had no one else but you in my heart for years, and he’s clouded your mind so much that you won’t even listen. If you won’t tell me where to find the selfish slimeball, I’ll find out for myself,” he snarled. “I’m not giving you up to a user like him!”

  Turning away, he stomped to the door, wrenched it open, then slammed it so loud the entire house shook.

  Kerry stood, staring at the door, stunned. Trembling, she made her way to the breakfast table and sank into a chair. In a few short months, her world had started to cave in. Now, the entire foundation of her existence was disintegrating on one overcast Tuesday morning. Mark had been arrested and gone to jail, and her plan to save him hung in the balance. She’d lost her heart to a man who didn’t return her feelings. She’d probably lost one of her best friends because she didn’t want more than his friendship. Pops, her boss, hadn’t been thrilled when she’d called in sick this morning, and she desperately needed the money working at the diner brought in. She was due to start summer school next Monday, which wasn’t paid for, and her head felt ready to explode. What was she going to do?

  For the moment, she opted for a shower. It wasn’t a stroke of genius, but it was a place to start.

  A long twenty minutes later, she combed her wet curls, wrapped herself in a thin cotton robe, and skulked to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  As her bare feet hit the cool linoleum, she gazed at her answering machine. A flashing red light. Rafe? Or Jason?

  Breathing suddenly constricted, she pressed the button. The electronic voice informed her the message had been left just before 10 A.M., mere minutes ago. Then Tiffany’s voice filled the room, sounding slightly harassed.

  “Hi, are you home yet? Guess not. I thought I should warn you, Smikins is looking for Mr. Dawson. He’s not happy and asked me to track Mr. Dawson down. I had no idea where to start and with Shorty on a rampage . . . Can you help me out and tell me where Mr. Dawson is staying? Call me on my cell phone. Thanks!”

  Smikins in one of his moods . . . A self-induced lobotomy would be more fun.

  Kerry erased the message. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. Her sister-in-law was such a great listener—sometimes too good. She’d want to hear every last detail, talk through every bit of the problem. Kerry didn’t want to talk about the fact that her fling with Rafe was over. On the other hand, Rafe had stuck his neck on the chopping block to help Mark, so if she could do anything to make sure he got paid so he could go to his dad a five-million-dollar man, she would do it. Then she’d have her tea, a good cry, and figure out how to recover from a broken heart—one of the few repairs for which Superglue was useless, damn it.

  Grabbing the phone, Kerry dialed Tiffany’s cell number. Voice mail picked up immediately. Thank goodness. She left the name of Rafe’s hotel and quickly hung up. Family obligation met for the moment.

  She turned to grab some sugar for her tea and noticed the pantry door open on her right. Had it been open earlier?

  Probably. Likely she’d been too distraught to notice. It had an annoying habit of popping open, and her landlord was too lazy to fix it. Normally, she’d ask Jason to look at it . . . but that was clearly out of the question now.

  Refusing to travel that mental path, Kerry lifted her little red kettle from the stove and ran fresh water into it. A cup of hot tea. That would be good. That would help clear her mind. She sifted through the tea bags in the silver canister on her counter. Lemon? No, too tart. Mandarin orange? Possibilities. Peach? Too happy.

  Something, a shuffling, sounded behind her. Before she could turn, she heard a whoosh. Pain exploded in the back of her head. Darkness crowded the edges of her vision. She tried to turn, to see what had happened.

  She crumpled toward the ground instead. Then . . . nothing.

  Check-in went smoothly enough. Too bad, really. Rafe had hoped for someone to argue with. Instead, Isabel, as her name tag read, had been perfectly polite and professional. Damn, why did women always choose the wrong time to be accommodating?

  Because the hotel wasn’t full, they allowed him to check in to a room at barely nine in the morning. He paid for the night, though he’d be leaving for the airport about three-thirty. Until then, he would watch the money he’d taken from the accounts, talk to D’Nanza about being reasonable, and pray he didn’t get arrested.

  Such a full plate should have meant that he could go more than fifteen seconds without thinking about Kerry.

  Yeah, and Shaquille O’Neal was going to take up professional ballet dancing.

  As he set up his laptop on the squatty desk and sat in the uncomfortable chair, he eyed the minibar. Was just before ten in the morning too early for a beer?

  His phone rang, providing enough distraction to avoid answering the question. He picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Unknown.

  “Rafe Dawson,” he answered.

  “Special Agent Robert D’Nanza. What the hell are you doing, stealing half a million dollars?”

  “Making sure someone innocent doesn’t go down the river. Mark Sullivan did not commit this crime. Someone disguised a retired terminal to look like Sullivan’s in the system and—”