He moved closer, pulling it around his shoulders. The feel of his bare arm against hers was more intimate than some full-body encounters she’d had. The beauty of the sunrise distracted her from the warmth melting into her skin. Shay sighed and leaned back. How had his arm gotten around her? Her head found the curve of his shoulder. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Aye.”

She felt his breath on her face and turned to look at him. He was staring at her like he had at the lake. She tried to look away, but she couldn’t. His eyes spoke of things she only imagined in her dreams. He turned, facing her, and a hand crept up her arm, slowly winding in her hair. He tilted her head and lowered his, letting his mouth hover over hers, taking in her breath as she took in his. Every cell inside her vibrated with longing. She could feel him, smell him, almost taste him. He licked his lips, put both hands in her hair, and brought their mouths together.

Little shocks zinged through her body like a pinball machine. Her mouth opened, welcoming his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin. The kiss grew desperate, harder, faster, bodies pressing, and then she was lying with him on top of her, bodies aligned, hips nudging. She was distantly aware of her ankle creeping up his leg, when she bumped it on his thigh. She gasped, and Cody jerked his head back. He stared at her, gave a disgusted grunt, and rose. “I’m sorry.” He helped her sit up and blew out a breath. “Are you okay to walk back?”

“Yes,” she lied, pulling the blanket around her.

Jaw tight, he started down the ladder, and then stopped. His eyes burned into hers. “No. I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Sorry.”

She caught one glimpse of his broad shoulders before he vanished like a ghost.

***

What the hell was wrong with him? Cody yanked off his belt as he walked into the house. He stripped off the rest of his clothes, dropping them as he went. He cranked the shower on cold and stepped inside. Even the freezing water didn’t stop the burn. He ran his hands through his hair. If he didn’t slow down, he would scare her off. What then? He’d waited nine years for this. Would he blow it now because his body longed for what he knew was his? He let his hand slide down his stomach, closed his eyes, and imagined Shay as he tried to ease the ache so he wouldn’t destroy his last chance.

***

Shay waited until Cody was out of sight before she left the tree house. For one thing, she didn’t want him to see how much her ankle hurt; for another, she needed another plan. This one wasn’t working. How could she even consider, or reconsider, marrying Jamie, when all she could think about was Cody? Instead of heading back to the house, Shay detoured off on another trail. The bushes were thicker, taking over in the absence of a human presence. The tiny cemetery was surrounded by a split-rail fence the boys built. All their pets were buried here, dogs, hamsters, and birds. There weren’t many weeds. The area was covered in pine needles and moss. She stepped inside and brushed her hand over a stone with the name Neo and a date scratched into the surface. The boys had held a funeral for the black lab. Afterwards, Shay had run away to the boathouse. Cody was the one who found her and held her while she sobbed.

How could she have walked away from this place, the people and the memories it held? With a sense of sadness, she went back to the house. A cat sat on the back porch watching her. It was huge, its fur white as snow, with eyes green as an emerald.

“Where did you come from?” It didn’t look like a stray. It was big enough to attack a grown man. “Go home, cat. I can’t even sort out my own life.” As if it understood her, the cat darted off the porch and into the woods.

Shay went inside and climbed back into bed, jeans and all. She dreamed of French toast. When she woke, Cody was stepping into the room carrying a tray.

“You made French toast,” she said, staring at the plate. “I thought I was dreaming.”

“Figured you were hungry after climbing that hill. Brunch might be a better welcome than…” his eyes flashed once, hard and dark, “than the one at the tree house.” He set the tray on the bed. “I’m sorry for… for whatever that was.”

Shay let him flounder for a minute, wondering if he hadn’t realized she’d had her tongue in his mouth too, but men let their chivalry run amok sometimes. “I guess we can chalk it up to old memories.”

He looked relieved. “I know you like French toast.” His brow flattened. “Do you still?”

“I love it,” she said, accepting the tray. “I didn’t think there was any bread in the kitchen.”

“I made it at the house.”

“I’m surprised you got past Lachlan.”

“He’s gone. He and Marcas had to get back to their assignments… uh, work.” Cody looked at the bed, but moved to the sofa. He leaned back, tapping his fingers on his thighs.

“Did you eat?”

“No. I wasn’t hungry.” He was watching the plate closely now.

“Changed your mind?”

His eyes lit. “If you feel like sharing.”

They used to share everything. Cody had thought nothing of snatching something from her plate, and vice versa, unless it was a brownie. Brownies were sacred. “I might be persuaded,” she said.

There was the flash in his eyes again, reminding her that they were a long way from kids. “I suppose I should share, since you made it.” She took a bite and moaned. “Maple syrup. Nina used to make French toast for me every Sunday morning.”

Cody gently moved her ankle aside so he could sit. “Not bad, eh?”

“You did good.” The breakfast tasted almost as good as Cody looked. What was wrong with her?

She cut a bite, but he reached out and grabbed the fork. He put the bite in his mouth, nodding as he chewed. “If the PI thing doesn’t work out, think I could become a cook?”

Women would pay Cody MacBain to deliver burnt toast. “I think I’ll need another meal before I decide.”

Between them, they finished six slices of French toast. Shay reached for the orange juice, but Cody had already raised it to his mouth. How easily they were slipping into old routines. Her gaze raked over him, mussed hair to booted feet, and every inch in between. These weren’t old times, the tree house proved that. Things were moving too fast. Going from hating him to… to what? Whatever it was, it scared the heck out of her. She felt her control slipping, felt the urge to sit back and let him take over. Shay had been taking care of herself far too long to let anyone take over.

“Let me check your ankle.” Cody lifted the covers and took her foot in his hand. He unwrapped the elastic bandage, his touch sending tingles through her leg. She’d had more tingles in her body the last twelve hours than she had in the last twelve months.

“Swelling is mostly down. You still need to take it easy for a day or so,” he said.

“I have to get groceries and some clothes. I’ll rest after that.”

“Maybe you can find some clothes in the attic. Nina never throws anything away. You look about the same size you were before.” He looked her over, his gaze slowing at her breasts.

“I think I took everything with me, but I’ll check. It’s hard to tell where my luggage will end up.” Shay moved the tray and slid out of bed.

“You shouldn’t be climbing those stairs. Your ankle will never heal.”

“It’s fine. Thank you for the French toast and for washing my clothes and loaning me your T-shirt and… stuff. I’ll wash them and give them back.”

“Maybe I’d rather you didn’t,” Cody said, brushing against her. “I like how you smell.” His voice was low, laced with something so hot it sent a jolt through her nether regions.

She took a step back. “What are you doing?”

“Damn it, I don’t know. I’ll be downstairs.” He picked up the tray and left without looking at her.

She had to get out of here. Maybe she could go to Leesburg and wait for Renee. A couple of days with her might take the edge off whatever this thing was with Cody. It was ridiculous. He was gorgeous, but she had been around plenty of gorgeous men. They never affected her this way.

After Shay made the bed, she called Mr. Ellis and left a message, giving him the bad news about his table, and then she called Lucy to see if everything was okay with the house. Lucy Bell was ninety, the closest thing Shay had to family in Scotland. The old woman had lost her husband a few years before. She and Shay looked out for each other. Shay had just gotten to the attic, when Cody appeared.

“Thought I’d find you up here,” he muttered. “You don’t listen very well.”

“Then stop giving orders.” She dug through a stack of boxes. “I don’t think I’ll find anything. Oh, remember this?” She pulled out her Tinker Bell costume. Nina had made it for her in first grade.

“I remember. You drove me crazy trying to get me to help you practice for the play.”

“I don’t know what you had against Peter Pan,” Shay said, putting the outfit back.

“He wore tights.”

“So did Robin Hood. I don’t hear you complaining about him.”

“His bow made up for the girly clothes. You used to be good with a bow.”

“I haven’t shot one in years,” Shay said. “I probably couldn’t hit the barn.” Underneath the Tinker Bell outfit was Shay’s graduation gown. She brushed her finger over the red material. That was the worst year of her life.

“I have a friend who could help, but I’m afraid he’d give you more than just tips.” Cody helped her check the rest of the attic, but there weren’t any clothes.

Her cell phone rang. It was the airline informing her that her luggage had been delivered.

She hung up. “I guess I’m going to Leesburg. The airline delivered my luggage there.”

“Leesburg?”

“I thought that’s where I would be staying.”

“Can’t you buy new stuff? I thought women looked for any excuse to shop.”

“I have plenty of clothes in my suitcase. No need to waste money.”

“I’d rather you didn’t go.”

“Why not?”

“You might feel fine now, but Leesburg is a two-hour drive. That’s four hours working the accelerator and brake on a sprained ankle. Not one of your better ideas.”

“I’ll manage.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’m going,” Shay said.

He sighed. “Come on, then.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“You’re bossier than I remember.”

“Too bad. Let’s get this over with.”

“I’m going to shower first. Do I need your permission to do that?”

“Not unless you need my help.”

Shay shoved past him and tromped down the stairs. She stumbled only once, and he grabbed her before she could fall.

“Stubborn,” he muttered.

“Tyrant.”

Shay showered and dressed in the same clothes. Cody pulled the truck around so she wouldn’t have to walk across to his house.

“You look like you’re going to your execution,” Shay said.

“If Renee sees me, it might be.”

“You two used to get along.”

“It’s a long story.”

“Care to explain?”

“No.”

He didn’t explain about Renee, but they talked as they rode, catching up on things from the past nine years, avoiding the touchy topics like fake parents and lies and letters and other things that couldn’t be mentioned, which was like tiptoeing around the Grand Canyon. They grabbed a late lunch from a drive-through and arrived at the shop late afternoon.

“Her car isn’t here,” Shay said. “This is odd. She was expecting me.” She pulled the key from her purse. “Are you coming in?”

He grimaced and got out.

Shay’s luggage was sitting outside the back door, where she had instructed the airline to leave it. “Let’s try the apartment first.”

“She hasn’t been here for a few days,” Cody said, after they looked around the apartment.

“How do you know, Sherlock?”

Cody opened the refrigerator. “Observe, Watson. The milk’s almost full, but past its expiration date. We passed a neighbor pulling his trash can off the street. Trash must have been picked up yesterday.” He sniffed. “Hers hasn’t been put out. I noticed mail sticking out of the mailbox outside too.”

“It looks like she just walked off. Why would she do that when she knew I was coming?”

“Did she have business that could have called her away?”

“She travels a lot, and she’s always meeting up with some new hot guy and taking off.”

“How about you?” Cody asked quietly. “Do you ever run off with some new hot guy?”

“No. That’s Renee’s thing, not mine.” Shay couldn’t even commit to a decent, honest, hot guy who wanted to marry her. What would she do with a new one? “She kept complaining about a new client who’s kept her busy. She didn’t like him.”