Savor the Danger. Lori Foster

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      “I have shared,” she tried to say with a straight face. “With you and Trace.”

      Too astute for his own good, Dare shook his head. “I got you out of there. I understand why talking to me would be too much. And with the way Trace reacted, I know you never wanted to burden him more.”

      And it would have been a burden. In some ways, though he hid it well, her abduction had been harder on Trace than on her. “He was so distressed that you had to come after me.”

      “He’d have had a hell of a time keeping me away.” Dare cupped the back of her neck, waggling her head in a familiar, friendly way. “But I know what you mean. He wanted to be the one handling things, and if he hadn’t already been known to the bastards who took you, he would have been.”

      But since they had known Trace, the odds of him reaching her had been diminished. Sending Dare had upped her chances of being rescued, but had been oh-so-much-more dangerous for Dare.

      Alani swallowed. “If I’d been paying better attention that day at the beach—”

      “Then you might not have been taken. And God only knows what would have happened to Molly.”

      She jerked her head up to stare at him. Solemn, serious, gaze direct, Dare stared back at her.

      “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

      He gave one small nod. “No way in hell did I ever want you to go through all that, hon. You know that. But sometimes things happen for a reason. I like to think I was there for you so I could get Molly out, too.”

      Her eyes burned. She threw her arms around Dare and squeezed him tight. “Thank you, Dare.” In his simple, caring way, he’d just lightened her burden.

      Hugging her right off her feet, Dare kissed the top of her head and said, “Anytime, sweetie.” He levered her back, grinned suddenly and then actually laughed.

      A little affronted, Alani frowned at him. “What’s funny?”

      “The look on Jackson’s face.”

      Oh! She turned—and there Jackson stood, his reddened eyes burning with an excess of emotion, his shoulders bunched, his jaw taut.

      Trace stood behind him, his mouth twisted with irony. “I told him to stay put, but he didn’t listen.”

      CHAPTER FIVE

      JEALOUSY SUCKED. He didn’t like it worth a damn. He especially didn’t like it now, with Alani rolling her eyes at him, and Dare and Trace both amused at his expense.

      Seeing her in Dare’s arms, even knowing they were practically siblings, burned his ass big-time. Next to Dare, she looked so small and fair, and he could see in her golden eyes how she trusted Dare.

      With her feelings and with her life.

      Jackson had no doubts about his abilities—but did Alani? Next to Dare and Trace, he stood out as different. They’d ribbed him plenty of times for his appearance, calling him a ladies’ man, a beach bum, making jibes about his preference for comfort over style.

      Even now, Dare wore an expensive pullover with untattered jeans. More upper-class in his style, Trace wore a button-up shirt and khakis.

      That morning, he’d dressed in haste, anxious to get to Alani. But even if he hadn’t, Jackson knew he’d still have reached for the ancient jeans that, through the years, he’d worn in just right. The scuffed boots helped to hide his knife. And his array of T-shirts, some plain, some with raunchy sayings, always won out for being comfortable.

      But next to the men Alani admired, did he fall short? She was a classy lady, always done up just right, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Even now, with the late sunshine warming her skin, leaving it dewy, she looked fresh and sweet. A breeze stirred the humid air, teasing her beautiful hair and carrying her unique scent to him. Jackson inhaled, filling his lungs with the aroma of woman.

      His woman.

      He wanted to drag her close, to stake a claim.

      And the guys knew it. With their presence alone, they taunted him.

      Jackson swallowed hard, tried to loosen up, and asked, “Everybody all talked out? We can drive a stake through the clandestine crap? Good. I’ll show you to the door.”

      Not fooled at all, Dare snorted. “We still need to work out the setup.”

      Moving to Jackson’s side, Alani took charge. “You should be sitting down.” She put her arm around him as if for support. Ignoring the fact that he outweighed her by more than a hundred pounds and stood damn near a foot taller, she tried to urge him back toward the couch.

      Unmanned by her mollycoddling, he stiffened. “I don’t need you to—”

      Trace pushed past them. “If he can’t walk on his own steam, then leave him outside.”

      “Wanna hold my hand?” Dare asked him.

      “Ignore them,” Alani told Jackson. “I plan to.”

      Provoked beyond reason, Jackson rubbed the back of his neck.

      “Are you okay?” She cupped the side of his face gently. “Does your head hurt?”

      This mothering tendency of hers made him really uncomfortable. He hadn’t blushed since his early teens, but damned if he didn’t feel his ears getting hot.

      “You’re warm,” she fussed. “Do you think you have a fever?”

      “Poor baby,” Dare muttered, then snorted.

      Jackson’s restraint broke. He wanted to take care of her, not the other way around. To prove to her that he wasn’t handicapped in any way, Jackson scooped her up into his arms.

      “Jackson!”

      He kissed her hard, and when she would have pulled away, he kept on kissing her, hugging her close, tilting his head for a better fit. He kissed her until she stopped fighting him.

      Against her lips, he said, “Unless you want further proof that I’m fine, stop babying me.” And then he headed inside.

      Dare snorted again, but he closed the door behind them.

      Back in the living room, Jackson stood her on her feet. “Now, we need—oof.”

      Her pointy elbow landed with unerring precision. He hadn’t braced for it because he hadn’t expected it. After being so sick that morning, his innards still felt sore, and she’d gotten him good.

      A hand to his midsection, he straightened and stared at her. Her angelic expression lacked remorse.

      As he stared down at her, incredulous, she smiled like a sinner. “Unless you want further proof that I object to manhandling, stop pushing me.”

      By slow degrees, Jackson’s frown faded into a grin. “You want to play, darlin’?” More than a little СКАЧАТЬ