That Night In Texas. Joss Wood

still Friday morning?”

      At his nod, her shoulders dropped three inches and the cords in her neck loosened. She slumped back against her pillow and closed her eyes. “Thank God.” She gripped the sheet and twisted the fabric between her fingers. When she spoke again, her voice was thin with pain and exhaustion. “I need to make a call. Can I borrow your phone?”

      “Not until I get some answers,” Cam told her, stepping back and folding his arms against his chest.

      Vivianne released a frustrated sigh. In her eyes he saw a solid streak of stubborn under the obvious exhaustion. “I understand that. But you’re not going to get another word out of me until I make a call.”

      It wasn’t worth arguing about. Reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out his phone, tapped in the code and handed it to her.

      She shook her head. “Sorry, the world is still a bit fuzzy. Can you dial for me?”

      Cam punched in the number she gave him, and when it started to ring, he handed the phone over. Vivianne placed her fingers on her forehead before speaking. “Charlie? Is Clem okay?”

      Evidently the response reassured her. Those sexy shoulders dropped and the hand gripping the sheet relaxed. Cam tipped his head to the side, thinking that watching her was like witnessing a balloon losing its air. Suddenly she looked paler, more fragile, ten times smaller. And a hundred times more vulnerable.

      He stepped forward, realized he was about to pull her into his arms, to offer what comfort he could, and immediately stepped back. What the hell? He didn’t do comfort; he wasn’t the type.

      Vivianne gnawed at her bottom lip, wincing when she encountered the cut she’d made earlier. “Thanks, Charlie. I’ll see you later this afternoon, maybe a little earlier if I can.”

      As if. According to the nurse, she had a concussion and that normally meant an overnight stay. He’d be happy to watch her all night. But only because he wanted to know what she was up to. Not because she was freakin’ gorgeous. And not because he found her fascinating, or because he couldn’t imagine walking out of this room without knowing when he was going to see her again.

      He was just tired. And hungry. That was why he was acting so out of character. Had to be.

      “Thanks, Charlie.”

      Cam jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and glowered at her. “Ready to start talking?”

      Vivianne sighed. “I don’t suppose I have much of a choice.”

      “Not really, no.”

      “I’m Vivi Donner, by the way.”

      Vivi suited her better than Vivianne. He rolled the name around his mind and could easily imagine himself whispering it as he kissed her, painting it on her skin as he tongued her. Sighing it as he slid into her hot, wet warmth. Cam gave himself a mental punch to the temple.

      Yeah, he was still attracted to her but so what? He was frequently attracted to women. He was a guy and that was what guys did. It was simple biology. It didn’t mean anything.

      “Let’s start off with you telling me how you ended up in a hospital with stitches and scrapes and more bruises than an MMA fighter.”

      Vivi pushed back that heavy hair and he caught a whiff of citrus and dank water. “According to the nurse, who spoke to the responding EMT, I was driving and it was really foggy. I slid off the road into a gully filled with fast-moving water. I remember going into the water and nothing much after that. The next time I came around, I was in this bed.”

      Every cell in his body iced over. Few people knew how to escape a car filled with water, yet she had. Thank God.

      “A policeman saw me go off the road. The working theory is that I pushed myself out the window and swam to the surface. The cop saw me come up, but then I was hit by a branch and swept away. Luckily a rescue boat was downstream from me and they hauled me out. I don’t remember anything after my car hit the water.”

      God, she’d been fantastically, ridiculously lucky. She obviously had a dozen angels sitting on her shoulder.

      He desperately wanted to find out why she’d run out on him that night, why she’d insinuated herself back into his life now. She’d known him as a greasy rigger, solidly blue collar. He’d been good for a night, a roll in the sheets, and he hadn’t really been surprised when he’d turned over and she wasn’t there.

      He was a ship in the night, here today and gone tomorrow, He only ever indulged in fun that lasted a few hours, max. He was not a guy someone like her—classy and warm—wanted to face over coffee in the morning.

      Was she back only because his bank accounts were fat and his social standing solid? Because he was now apparently acceptable?

      Cam felt the sharp burn beneath his rib cage and cursed. He cursed himself for caring what she thought and he cursed her for dropping back into his comfortable, and predictable, life. He’d never forgotten her and he hated her for that. He didn’t like connections, ties, memories.

      Cam walked over to the window and stared out into the hospital parking lot. There, close to the entrance, was his luxury SUV, top of the line, ridiculously expensive. He lived in a big-ass house, had numerous, hefty bank accounts. He had, he reluctantly admitted, everything he’d ever wanted, yet this brown-eyed woman made him feel like his world was shifting, that something was changing.

      Vivi’s reappearance in his life was going to rock him to the soles of his feet.

      Cam sighed before turning around. “Why am I your emergency contact person, Vivianne?”

      This time Vivi gripped the sheets with both hands, and whatever color was left in her face drained away. She stared at him, licking her lips, and he could see the turmoil in those eyes, the trembling of her bottom lip. “I have a daughter, Clementine. I call her Clem. She’s two years old and you are her father.”

       Two

      Telling a guy he had a child was a hell of a way to clear a room.

      Vivi looked at the door Camden had slammed closed, half expecting him to reappear and start yelling. When twenty seconds passed, then thirty, then a minute, she finally released the breath she was holding. While she was better at confrontation now than she’d been years ago, she still didn’t like to argue. The same, so she’d heard, couldn’t be said for Camden McNeal. All her research—and she’d researched him to death—pointed to the fact that Cam McNeal, oil rigger turned venture capitalist, treated business like a boxing ring and went in swinging. He was tough, demanding and controlling, and he didn’t take any prisoners, ever.

      Neither, it was reported, did he suffer fools. The business press called him a blizzard, cool and deadly, but Vivi thought they’d mischaracterized him. He wasn’t cold. Beneath that icy facade resided a passionate man. A man fully in control of his volatile emotions. But cold and unfeeling? Oh, hell, no.

      Vivi pulled her knees up and groaned as every muscle in her body protested. She was exhausted both mentally and physically, but she was sure there was no chance of sleep anytime soon, since she knew she hadn’t seen the last of Cam this morning. Instinctively she understood that Cam had only left the room so that she wouldn’t witness his anger, disappointment or shock. Or all three. He obviously needed some time to regain his famous control. That was okay; she needed to regain hers, too.

      Three years and he was still earth-shatteringly sexy.

      Vivi heard the ding of an incoming message and looked at Cam’s smartphone, which she still held in her hand. Swiping her thumb across the screen, she saw the dial pad and impulsively dialed Joe’s number, needing to connect with the only person she considered family.

      After a brief explanation to Joe about the accident, Vivi told him that she was fine and that he didn’t need