Aftershock. Jill Shalvis

one.”

      He was quiet for a moment. Probably horrified. “I have a hard time believing a woman like you has no one in her life,” he said finally, very gently.

      It shocked her, the way he said “a woman like you.” His voice held admiration, attraction, tenderness.

      Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. The truth was she’d been a wallflower nearly all her life. Only when she’d struck out on her own, ruthlessly devouring magazines and books on fashion and style, had her appearance changed so that no one could actually see that wallflower within her. To the world, she appeared cool, elegant, sophisticated.

      Apparently she’d fooled him, too.

      “Amber?”

      “I think you know I don’t have a lover,” she said quietly. “Not recently anyway.” She ducked her hot cheeks to rest them against her bent knees. “No attachments.”

      She could feel him studying her. Could feel his curiosity and confusion.

      “There’s no shame in that.” He slid a hand up and down her back.

      No, maybe not, she thought wearily. But there was in her memory. “I was engaged once,” she admitted. “Several years ago. It didn’t work out.” She didn’t add she’d discovered her fiancé had been handpicked by her father, drawn to her by the promise of promotion. That Roy had used her to further his military career, instead of really loving her as she’d allowed herself to imagine, had been devastating.

      So had her father’s involvement.

      Of course he’d been bitterly disappointed when she’d backed out of the arrangement. She’d failed him, and he’d made that perfectly clear.

      Well, dammit, he’d failed her, too.

      After that, Amber had hardened herself. Being alone was best. No involvement, no pain. She believed it with all her shut-off heart.

      “I’m sorry.” Dax reached for her hand, but at the pity she heard in his voice, she flinched away.

      “No, don’t,” he whispered, scooting closer, feeling for her face to make sure she was looking at him. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but I’m not sorry you’re alone now.”

      She had no idea what to say to that.

      “Don’t regret what happened here, between us. I don’t.”

      It was difficult to maintain any sort of distance when the man was continually touching her with both that voice and his hands. He was so compassionate, so giving, and he was doing his absolute best to keep her comfortable, all the while filling her with a traitorous sexual awareness.

      For the first time in her life, she wondered if she’d judged her mother too harshly. It wasn’t a thought that sat well with her.

      “Amber?”

      That was another thing about him, he refused to let her hide, even from herself. “I won’t regret it,” she promised, knowing they were going to die anyway. “It would be a waste to regret something so wonderful.”

      “Yes, it would.”

      “I don’t want to die.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but there it was.

      The words hung between them.

      “The ceiling is holding,” he said after a moment. “The desk has protected us.”

      Yes, but they would be crushed soon enough. The ceiling above them was still making groaning noises and no amount of reassurances or placating lies could cover that up. They knew from Dax’s careful exploring that one corner of the office had collapsed under tons of dirt and brick. They now had half the space they’d had originally.

      Suddenly Dax froze.

      “What’”

      Dax put his fingers to her mouth. “Shh.” He sat rigidly still, poised, listening. “Hear that?”

      She tried. “No.”

      He surged to his feet, banging his head on the desk. He swore ripely, apologized hastily, then crawled out and shouted.

      “What are you doing?” Amber demanded, fear clogging her throat. He’d get hurt, something would fall on him.

      She’d be alone.

      Always alone.

      She didn’t want to die that way.

      “Someone’s up there,” he told her with a shocked laugh. “They’re looking for us. Listen! ”

      Then she heard it, the unmistakable shouts of people.

      Joy surged.

      She was going to live after all. She was going to get a second chance.

      And thanks to Dax McCall, this time around she’d make the most of it.

       I T TOOK HOURS to rescue them from the building, but eventually Amber was standing in the asphalt parking lot, blinking like a mole at the fading daylight.

      Hard to believe, but they were okay. They were alive. And while they’d been trapped, life had gone on, business as usual.

      Well, not quite. Southern California had suffered a six-point-five earthquake.

      Amber turned to look at the small crowd of police officers and firefighters surrounding her perfect stranger, and she suffered her own six-point-five tremor.

      Dax McCall was tall, lean and built like a runner. No, like a boxer, she amended, all sinewy and tough. Big. It was hard to discern the color of his hair, or even the tone of his skin, covered in dust as he was, but to her, he was stunningly, heart wrenchingly gorgeous.

      He was her hero, in a world where she’d never had one before.

      But that was silly, the stuff movies were made of, and she was mature enough to realize it. He was human, and she had no need for a hero in her life. Nor for a huge, warm, strong, incredibly sexy man. Still, she stood there, pining after him, allowing herself for one moment to daydream.

       I plan to settle down, he’d said. In another twenty years or so.

      She’d do well to remember that.

      Yes, this had been an amazing episode in her life’literally soul-shaking. The way he’d held her, touched her, kissed her, as if she’d been the only woman on earth, was something she’d always remember.

      But it was over now, and he wouldn’t want to cling to the moment. In fact, he was probably already worrying about how to let her down gently.

      That wouldn’t be necessary.

      Oh, he was kind, gentle, tender. Some woman had certainly taught him right. Probably many women. But Amber had no desire to be the flavor of the week, and he had no desire for more. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t into commitments. So really, there was only one thing to do, after she thanked him’cut her losses and leave.

      Getting him alone proved difficult. Their rescuers had circled him and were deep in conversation, so she waited. Around her was the eerie silence of a regular day. Trees barely moving, sky clear and bright. Little traffic.

      But it wasn’t a regular day. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, more than she had while trapped in the basement, Amber knew she couldn’t stay another moment. Vowing to thank him in person later, after a hot shower, a good meal and a very private, very rare, pity party, she got into her car.

      Taking control of her emotions and actions felt good. Still, her heart gave a painful lurch as she buckled in. Before Dax had finished giving his report to the police, she was gone, assuring herself she was doing the right thing by leaving.

      A part of her, though, a very small part, knew the truth. On the outside, to the world, she was tough as nails and cool as a cucumber. Inside, where she allowed no one, she was one big, soft