Straight From The Hip. Сьюзен Мэллери

      She didn’t want to hear about Nick at all, but liked Aaron. Which made being rude more difficult.

      “We have corporate retreats,” he continued. “Management types come and explore the wilderness. We teach them how to swing from trees, start a fire with a couple of rocks. You know. Team-building stuff.”

      “That’s hardly going to qualify your boss for sainthood.”

      “It pays the bills,” he said as he tapped her other arm. “The real work is with kids who have been through something traumatic. A shooting. A violent crime. Parents fighting for years, then finally killing each other. They come here all shut down. It’s sad. We put them on the horses, take them outside. Show them how to climb a tree. It helps. That’s what he does. He helps fix them.”

      She didn’t want to think about Nick being anything but the devil. “Which is great, but doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

      “And it’s all about you, right?” Aaron asked, sounding amused. “Honey, you’ve got some attitude on you.”

      “I know. It used to look good.”

      “It still could. Now face me.” He rubbed the cool aloe on her chest. “You’re going to be peeling like a snake in a few days. Okay. I’ve done all I can. You’re going to have to sit like this until you dry off. Let me get the aspirin.”

      He disappeared for a minute or so. Izzy sat there in her bra and jeans wondering if anyone was walking by the open door and enjoying the show. Did she care?

      Aaron returned. “Aspirin and water. Because that’s just the kind of guy I am.”

      She took both. “Why are you here? Why Nick? Why this place?”

      “I’m a Texas kind of guy.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “I could be. I try.” He hesitated. “I like it here. This is where I belong.”

      She knew there was more to the story, but didn’t know what and she wasn’t interested enough to push.

      “Thanks for your help.”

      “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I just love your hair. See you in the morning.”

      Then he was gone.

      She heard the door close, and the sense of being totally alone made her skin crawl.

      She ignored it, the need to panic and every other emotion washing through her. After patting her arms to make sure the aloe had dried, she found the nightie he’d left on the dresser, slipped out of her jeans and bra, then pulled it over her head. She made her way back to bed and crawled between the sheets. She didn’t bother turning off the lights. It was better if they were on all the time. Anything was better than the dark.

      NICK SAT IN HIS downstairs office, staring at his computer, but he didn’t see the words on the screen. Instead his attention kept shifting to the woman upstairs.

      Izzy was in a bad place. All fear and attitude. Both could be channeled, used to get through. Or they could defeat her. Right now he couldn’t tell which way she was going to fall.

      She wasn’t his usual type of client—he didn’t take on long-term care or individual cases. The corporate types came and went with forgettable ease. The kids…they came in groups of two or three, a weekend at a time. He’d once thought they should expand to week-long camps, but until they had the staff in place, that wasn’t possible. Besides, it was always easier if he didn’t get involved. If Izzy stayed, that was a risk. One he would have to control. He couldn’t be emotionally responsible for her…or anyone.

      There was also the added challenge that she wasn’t a kid. She was a beautiful woman. He would have to be as blind as her not to notice that and coughing up his last breath not to be aware of the possibilities. Not that they mattered. She was off-limits.

      So what happened now? Had he pushed her too hard? Would she rise to the challenge or snap in two? Sometimes the line between pushing and being a real bastard was hard to see. He tended to err on the side of being a bastard.

      His phone rang.

      “Hollister,” he said.

      “How’s it going?”

      “About the same,” he said, pleased to hear his friend’s voice. “With you?”

      “Making a killing,” Garth Duncan joked. “It was a good day.”

      Nick looked at his computer screen. “The market was down.”

      “Not for me. Not for you, either. At least not your shares in my company. I can’t speak to what other crap you might have in your portfolio.”

      Nick laughed. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly ten. “Still at the office?”

      “Sure. I’ll head home in a few. Tomorrow I’ve got a charity dinner, so I’m getting things done tonight.”

      Garth had been born to be a tycoon. They’d met on their first day in college, when fate had thrown them together as roommates. Garth had been a charming, good-looking eighteen-year-old who made friends easily and walked with the confidence of someone who knew he was destined for greatness. Nick had been a skinny, frightened fifteen-year-old scholarship student, in theory the smartest kid on campus, but clueless when it came to real life.

      Garth had taken one look at him and left the room without saying a word. Nick hadn’t cared. He’d been grateful to be out of the horrors of foster care and in the relatively safe world of college. That relief had ended two weeks later when a few fraternity pledges decided that beating the shit out of him would secure their place in Greek Row history.

      Garth had stopped them before they could do much more than bruise him. He’d dragged Nick back to their room and told him to stay out of trouble, then he’d left. By way of a thank-you, Nick had completed Garth’s calculus homework and left him a study cheat sheet.

      Eventually, they became friends, drawn together by proximity and similar backgrounds. Nick had grown up without parents, Garth had grown up without a father. In the four years it took Garth to get his bachelor’s degree, Nick completed a bachelor’s in petroleum engineering, a master’s and most of his Ph. D. Garth taught him how to make friends and get girls. Nick got Garth through his classes with a respectable B-plus average.

      That was a long time ago, Nick thought grimly. Back when everything had seemed possible.

      “Your friend got here,” Nick said.

      “Who?”

      “Isadora Titan. Izzy. The one you told me about.”

      Nick had taken on Izzy at Garth’s request. One of Garth’s former assistants had gone to work for Skye Titan and Garth had pushed her to suggest that they consult Nick. Garth had kept his name out of it, though. To hear him tell it, the Titans were his business competitors and he needed them in good shape so that they could continue to challenge him at work.

      Nick knew better, though. Garth was one of the good guys—always had been. And he hated taking credit for anything nice, if only to preserve his reputation.

      “So how’s she doing?” Garth asked.

      “She’s having a tough adjustment.”

      “I would imagine getting used to being blind takes time. You’ll work your magic. That’s what you do.”

      “It’s not magic. It’s reality. She needs to get her head in the game. Otherwise she won’t have the surgery that could restore her sight.”

      “Better you than me,” Garth told him. “I don’t have the patience.”

      “Most days I don’t, either.”

      “Still, you’re doing it. Thanks