Tangling With Ty. Jill Shalvis

      For a woman who prided herself on nerves of steel, Nicole nearly leapt out of her skin at the unexpected whisper coming out of the darkened hallway of her apartment building.

      But it wasn’t the boogey man or any other menacing threat. It was just the owner of the building and her friend, Taylor Wellington, peeking out her door. Taylor was nice and beautiful—reason enough to hate her—but she also happened to be in possession of that disarming ability to talk until Nicole’s eyes crossed. It completely wore down her defenses.

      That they’d—polar opposites—become friends still baffled Nicole.

      “Psst!”

      “I see you,” Nicole said. “Did I wake you?” Not that the perfectly-put-together Taylor looked anything other than…well, perfectly put together, but it did happen to be the crack of dawn. A time she considered sacrilegious.

      “Oh, no, the living dead couldn’t wake me,” Taylor assured her. “I set my alarm so I’d catch you.” Her beautifully made-up eyes toured Nicole. “Honey, I thought we talked about the camouflage gear.”

      Nicole looked down at her camouflage cargo pants and green tank top, fitting snug to her lean form. Her wardrobe had been formed back in the expensive days of medical school when she’d been forced to shop in thrift stores, but sue her, she’d developed a fondness for the comfortable garb. That Taylor cared what she wore at all was still a surprise.

      Nicole had only lived in this South Village building a few weeks, having moved from another larger building where no one ever even looked at one another. She’d only moved because that place had been sold and the new owners had plans for it to go co-op. She’d come here for its convenience to the hospital, and because it was small. Fewer people to deal with. That this building was also falling off its axis was neither here nor there, as Nicole didn’t care what it looked like, as long as her bed was in it. “Why did you want to catch me?”

      “I knew if I didn’t, you’d forget. We’re planning Suzanne’s engagement party tonight.”

      Ah, hell. Suzanne Carter lived in the apartment next to Taylor’s. The three of them, the only ones in the building, had shared many laughs and much ice cream, but Nicole still didn’t want to plan a party where she’d have to dress up and smile and make nice. She hated making nice.

      “You’d forgotten,” Taylor said.

      “No, I…” Okay, she’d forgotten. She couldn’t help it, she was single-minded. Always had been, just ask the family she never managed to see. This year alone, she’d forgotten one sister’s homecoming from college, her mother’s annual April Fool’s Day bash and her own birthday. But her family understood something Taylor didn’t.

      Nicole was a firm loner. Connections to people tended to give her hives. Ditto planning engagement parties. “I’m sorry. I…might be late.”

      Taylor gave her a long look. “Don’t tell me. You have something new to pierce.”

      Nicole rolled her eyes. Taylor had been teasing her about the silver hoops she had lining one ear, but Taylor had no way of knowing that each was a trophy of sort, and a badge of honor worn proudly. “Not a new piercing, no.”

      With the patience of a saint, Taylor just lifted a brow.

      Nicole racked her brain for her elusive people skills, but as she didn’t have any, they failed her. “We’re short-staffed at the hospital, and—”

      “Save it, Super Girl.” Taylor lifted a hand against the upcoming stream of excuses. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? Weddings, and all the trappings, give both of us gas.” She looked right into Nicole’s eyes and gave her a take-your-medicine look. “But this is for Suzanne.”

      Suzanne had been the only other person besides Taylor to instantly, genuinely accept Nicole, no matter how abrupt, aloof and self-absorbed she was.

      The three of them had only met recently after Taylor had inherited this building with no funds to go with it. She’d rented out space to Suzanne first, then Nicole had come along. They had little in common really. Suzanne, a caterer, kept them in to-die-for food and Suzanne’s personal favorite, ice cream. Taylor, with her dry wit, kept them all amused and, though she’d kill Nicole if she heard her say it, mothered them to death. And Nicole…she had no clue what she added to the mix, so them caring about her still mystified.

      But they all shared one common trait—a vow of singlehood. They’d talked about it, often toasted to it and had jointly coveted it… Until Suzanne had done the unthinkable and fallen in love.

      Nicole sighed. “I’ll find a way to be here.”

      “Don’t worry, they say you can’t catch wedding fever.”

      “Hey, don’t worry about me. My work is my life. I’m too into it, too selfish to be anything but single.”

      “Right. Our singlehood is firmly intact.”

      “Firmly.”

      But they stared at each other, a little unnerved. That Suzanne, one so steadfastly single, was now getting married cast a shadow on their vow. Surely neither of them could possibly make the fall into love. Not when they kept their eyes open and their hearts closed.

      Yep, heart firmly closed. They were safe that way, totally and completely safe.

      * * *

      TWENTY-FOUR exhausting hours later, again just before dawn, Nicole dragged her sorry, aching body back up the three flights of stairs to her loft apartment.

      It was dark again, or still. It seemed she lived in the dark.

      Work had been especially brutal. An unexpected heavy fog had created a pile-up on Highway 5 South. As a result of the forty-two car accident, she’d been in emergency surgery all day, without a break to so much as sneeze. She’d removed two spleens, pinned four legs, reset more shattered ribs than she could remember, and had delivered twins in an emergency caesarian.

      Then she’d been asked to stay another shift, and after a quick nap when she’d dreamed of being chased by a white wedding dress and cake—where had that come from?—she’d willingly taken on whatever had come her way. And plenty had.

      Now all she wanted was food, a shower and a bed, and not necessarily in that order. She had her Taco Bell bag clutched to her chest, her mouth watering in anticipation of the four regular tacos and extra-large soda. Not the usual breakfast of champions, but food was food and she’d been craving spicy since her second surgery.

      And then after the food…oblivion. At least until she had to be back at the hospital again, which happened to be that afternoon for a staff meeting, and then to cover someone else’s shift that night. She already had four surgeries lined up, ready to go.

      Had she remembered to grab the hot sauce? She hoped so, she was pretty certain her kitchen—if you could call the hole in the wall that—didn’t have any food in it except for something that had gone green a week ago, and—

      “You little buggering piece of sh—” A rustling sound, followed by the squeal of metal on metal, blocked out the rest of that shocking statement made in a deep, Irish brogue. “I’m going to…damn me again, you worked at the last job, so bloody hell if you won’t work here…”

      This was spoken so calmly, so confidently in that accent, it took a moment to decipher that the man was making some sort of threat.

      Fine. Nicole was in the mood to kick some ass, as long as her Taco Bell didn’t get crushed. Once in a while, having an IQ higher than her weight had some benefits. During med school she’d needed an outlet for all the technical work so she’d taken karate. Like everything she set her mind to, she’d excelled.

      Bring it on. She took a defensive stance, then dropped it to set her food down on the top step. No need to risk breakfast. She moved up the last step. There was nothing on this level but her loft and the attic. Nothing but the narrow hallway, which at