Savor the Danger. Lori Foster

when you told me you were at the movies.”

      “Sorry about that.” Alani squirmed in guilt. “I just… I needed some time.”

      “So I see.”

      Brows climbing high, Dare leaned around Trace to see Jackson. “She’s protecting you?”

      Suffering his own surprise, Jackson settled back into the couch. “Guess so.”

      With his first good look at Jackson, Dare recoiled. “Jesus, man. You look like—”

      “Shit. I know.” He caught Alani’s waist and plunked her down…right into his lap. Her backbone went stiff, probably from shock at his daring.

      To her brother, he said, “Get a grip, Trace. We need to talk.”

      Held back by Alani’s displeasure and probably his own sense of fair play, Trace locked his jaw. “It hardly needs explanation.”

      “’Fraid it does.”

      Stiffening even more, Alani gasped and jerked around to face him. “Don’t you dare.”

      Her appalled tone quadrupled Dare and Trace’s curiosity. Trace asked, “Don’t dare do what?”

      Jackson didn’t want to embarrass her, so it was with a lot of regret that he said reasonably, “They have to know, honey.”

      “Jackson…” she warned.

      “One of you better spit it out,” Dare said. “My imagination is in hyperdrive.”

      “I think someone drugged me.”

      Dare and Trace pulled back. “Well, hell,” Dare said. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

      Alani tried to leave him, but Jackson held on, and short of causing a scene, she couldn’t.

      Trace, never one to miss a thing, glared.

      Dare sat on the edge of the chair, patience personified. “All right, let’s hear it.”

      Alani struggled anew, and that prodded Trace’s anger. In a deadly whisper, he ordered, “Let her go.”

      His deadly whispers didn’t faze Jackson. “Not happening.”

      Trace started forward.

      And just that quick, Alani stopped fighting him and instead went back to defending him. “Stop right there, Trace! I mean it.”

      Trace pulled up short, his left eye twitching.

      No sense in dragging this out and making it worse, Jackson decided. “I woke up this morning with—”

      “Jackson!”

      “—Alani in bed with me.”

      A collective breath-holding took place. Hell, he could almost hear heartbeats, it got so damn quiet. Jackson looked at Dare and then Trace.

      Giving Alani a slight hug, he said, “Thing is, I have no recollection at all of getting her there.”

      Beyond their slack-jawed surprise, neither Dare nor Trace reacted.

      Jackson shrugged. “For a few hours this morning I was sick as hell, seeing double, light-headed, weak.”

      Alani looked guilty, probably because she’d stormed out on him. But he understood her reaction. Always, whenever he’d considered getting her under him, he’d thought in terms of gentleness, easing her into things, showing deference to her lack of experience and the trauma of her past.

      Had he been gentle with her? God, he hoped so, because her proverbial “morning after” sure had sucked. It’d been memorable—for being so awful.

      Jackson hugged her again. Of course Dare and Trace both noticed.

      “All I can think is that someone drugged me, but I don’t know who would do that, or how or why. Far as I can remember, I spent the day working on my house.” The place was livable but far from complete, so he preferred to stay in his current residence still. His plan had been to get Alani involved, using her expertise as a professional decorator. Whether she’d accepted it or not, he knew the sexual spark was there between them, and time together, alone, would only work in his favor.

      But now…hell, he could maybe use the plan to soften her up after whatever had transpired yesterday.

      “You see anyone while you were working?”

      Jackson shook his head. “Not that I can remember.”

      Silence reigned.

      Since Alani burned with embarrassment and Trace looked lethal, Dare took over.

      “If you were drugged, it could’ve been Rohypnol. Easy enough to slip that into a drink. It’s a sedative, so it could make you sick, and it can cause that amnesiatic effect.”

      Jackson’s brain throbbed even more. “A date-rape drug? Seriously?”

      Alani panicked. “We need to take him to the hospital!”

      “No.” Jackson held her when she started to stand. He had no intention of getting on anyone’s radar. When he found out who had done this, he’d handle it himself, without the interference of local officials.

      “Don’t be an idiot,” Alani told him with venom.

      “Too late,” Trace said.

      Jackson ignored the insult. He got where Trace was coming from. Alani’s brother didn’t like being blindsided with the idea that his baby sister was in a sexual relationship. Understandable.

      Jackson only wished he could remember the sexual relationship.

      Again, Dare interceded. “I’m not sure the hospital would do him much good, hon. Urine screens don’t look for Rohypnol. A blood test would be better but usually hospital labs don’t have the equipment to screen for it, so it’d have to be a send-out—and that takes time.”

      “And by then, I’ll be fine,” Jackson told her. He ran his hands up and down her arms, hoping to reassure her. “I’m already feeling better, in fact.” A lot better, given how she’d kissed him, how quickly she’d melted once he got his mouth on hers.

      Soon as he could get rid of Dare and Trace, he’d show her how great he felt.

      Course, he needed to get it together. He absolutely couldn’t continue the hot and heavy relentless pursuit. Alani could take it as a lack of respect, maybe think he only wanted one thing from her, when in fact, he wasn’t sure how much he wanted.

      Sex, definitely. Conversation, sure. He wanted to protect her, and he wanted her to trust him. What all that meant, he couldn’t say. He refused to jump the gun and mire himself in emotional restraints.

      Once he had her, he’d be able to regroup and become a gentleman again. Maybe. With the way she pushed all his buttons, he couldn’t be sure—

      Alani fretted. “I don’t know…”

      “If we’re assuming he was given a roofie, then he can ride it out,” Dare told her.

      “Well…” She looked at Jackson again, full of soft concern and maybe even caring. “Okay.”

      Trace shook his head in disgust. “It wasn’t really up to you, Alani.”

      No, it wasn’t. Never would Jackson let a woman dictate to him. It wasn’t in his nature. But to soften that reality, he said, “Trust me, Alani, I’m okay.”

      Her censuring gaze swept the room. “As if any of you would admit to needing help.”

      Dare took that as her agreement. “Great, then that’s settled. Now on to the rest.” He gave Alani a pointed look. “You spent the night with him?”

      Her chin went up. “Yes.”

      “What time did you get to his place?”

      At