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“Saving your sweet ass is phase two.” He strode to the passenger side of his rented Range Rover, unlocked the doors, and deposited her inside. “Wait here.”
A quick trip to the trunk of the SUV gained him what he sought, and a few strides later he offered her the USMC T-shirt and cut-off sweats he’d stowed in his gym bag. “Put these on. I’ll take the gift inside, grab your things, and tell Savannah about your wardrobe malfunction. When I get back with your purse, you can drive home and change. If you hurry, you’ll make it back in time to see the happy couple off.”
Whatever argument she’d been preparing faltered in the face of his comprehensive planning—or maybe the thought of missing Beau and Savannah’s departure. She took the clothes he held and spared him a “Thank you.”
“I live to serve,” he replied and left her to change while he saw to phase two. It didn’t take long to find Savannah, offer up a vague explanation, and entrust her with the gift bag in exchange for her sister’s purse.
When he returned to the parking area, Sinclair was already standing beside his car, looking ridiculously sexy with her slim body swimming in his shirt, and his sweat shorts riding low on her hips. It would take all of three seconds to rid her of those clothes. He imagined wrapping his fist around the T-shirt and tearing it off. The bra he’d glimpsed earlier would come next. The lacy, strapless confection pretty much begged to be stripped away. Images burned into his brain, and his palms tingled at the thought of holding her bare breasts, lifting them and lowering his head, seeing if they were as responsive as they’d been ten years ago when he’d been the first guy to touch them…kiss them…draw them into his mouth as deeply as he could and devour her until she buried her face in his hair to muffle her cries of pleasure.
His better judgment intruded. Not tonight. Probably not ever, if you keep standing here, staring at her tits. He cleared his throat and handed her the purse. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“That’s not necessary.” She opened the sleek, blue silk bag and pulled out her keys. “I’ve got it from here… Shoot. I locked my dad’s keys in the car. I wonder if I’ll be able to get a locksmith out this late on a Saturday?”
“And that brings me to phase three of the plan.”
“There’s a phase three?”
He to
ok her hand and led her through the maze of parked cars to the Mercedes. “Phase three.” While she watched, he withdrew the compact multi-tool he kept on his key chain, extended the lock-pick modification, and went to work. After a moment, he found the release. A twist, and the lock popped. He opened the door, retrieved the keys from the front seat, and handed them to her, along with her torn dress. “Anything else?”
Her eyes narrowed. “If you knew how to open the door all along, why the hell did you…?”
To hell with not pissing off a southern woman. He didn’t even try to hold back his grin. “You negotiated for your freedom. You didn’t specify I had to use the most expedient means available.”
He heard her muttered curse before she turned on her heel and stormed off.
“Hey, Sinclair?”
“What?” She slowed but didn’t bother stopping.
“I’m booking my first tour. Tomorrow afternoon. I’ll pick you up.”
Chapter Three
“This is your idea of a tourist attraction?”
Shane ignored Sinclair’s incredulous tone and instead appreciated the sight of long legs encased in skinny jeans and black riding boots stepping down from the driver’s seat of a silver Tahoe. Her slouchy red coat popped against the gray February sky. He pushed away from the flagpole he’d been leaning against as she crossed the empty parking lot. He’d lost the battle to pick her up—she’d claimed a tight schedule and insisted on meeting him—but he’d gotten her where he wanted her on a Sunday afternoon, and he considered that a victory.
“I never said tourist attractions.” He steered her along the front of the building. “I said new developments.”
She frowned and tapped the “1938” carved into the granite stone set into the corner of the brick structure. “The high school’s been here forever, and given you managed to earn a diploma from this very institution, I assume you know your way around just fine without my help.”
“I see lots of changes.” He pointed to the buildings flanking the original schoolhouse. “Two new wings, a refurbished gymnasium, new football field and expanded grounds. C’mon. Let’s look around.”
“Thinking of trying out for the team? I hate to break it to you, but you missed your window of opportunity by about ten years.”
“I wouldn’t say I missed it. I had no interest in banging heads with a bunch of sweaty guys.” He reached out and touched the articulated silver and crystal dragonfly pinned to the collar of her coat, making one iridescent wing flutter. “I had other interests. So did you, if I recall.”
She took a step back and snuggled into her coat. “It’s fair to say neither one of us has glory days to relive. What are we doing here, Shane?”
Oh, they had glory days, and he was more than happy to relive certain aspects, but the exasperation in her voice told him the better tactic right now would be to focus on the present. “Any comprehensive municipal disaster plan encompasses the schools, and identifying the optimal evacuation routes firsthand gives me a leg up on assessing the viability of their existing procedures.”
All totally legit, but the chance to visit the place where they’d first met factored into his choice. Try as she might to keep a lock on the past, he figured nostalgia ultimately worked in his favor. They’d shared a lot, back in the day, caught up in each other with the kind of all-consuming intensity that made any risk seem reasonable, and any obstacle insignificant. The wildfire of emotion had probably been destined to flame out even if life hadn’t gotten in their way, but seeing her again stirred the embers and made him realize he hadn’t experienced anything close in a long time.
And he wanted to. Chalk it up to pure, simple lust, or the challenge of breaking through the wall of resistance he’d slammed into headfirst last night. And yes, also to reconcile the past and tie things off properly this time. He could still hear his former drill instructor—now his boss—telling him, Son, consider her the one that got away, and move on. He had, because there’d been no other option, but a small, persistent sense of unfinished business lingered in the back of his mind.
Her narrowed eyes conveyed skepticism. “I haven’t participated in so much as a fire drill here since I graduated. Shouldn’t you do this with someone who knows what’s what?”
