AFTERSHOCK

by Jill Shalvis

  In the light of day she had to laugh at herself. So she'd eaten his dinner. He was a pretty capable guy, certainly he'd managed.

  She got out of bed and checked on Taylor, who was still fast asleep. Grateful, she took the baby monitor and headed for the shower. Afterward, warm and steamy and still wet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It was rare to spend any time really looking at herself, especially naked, but she looked now.

  Somehow, when she hadn't been paying attention, she'd lost most of the baby fat she'd accumulated during her pregnancy. Still, her hips were fuller. Her belly was no longer concave, but softly rounded. And her breasts … they weren't the simple, unobtrusive A-cup they'd always been, but two full sizes larger. Just looking at them made her wonder.

  What did Dax think of her body now?

  Even as she thought it, she blushed. She knew he saw something he liked, because whenever she looked at him unexpectedly, she caught him watching her with a wild, hot intensity that made her hot right back. She tried to pretend she didn't notice, but in the deep of the night she often thought about what they did to each other.

  She'd been rude to him last night, inexcusably rude. He had no idea why, couldn't possibly understand how she was letting her past guide her. For most of her childhood, she'd blindly obeyed her father. She'd followed orders, squelched her need for a feminine role model and had done whatever it took to please the man.

  Opinions hadn't been encouraged.

  As a result, she was naturally inhibited. Being quiet and unobtrusive had been necessary for survival, as had keeping thoughts and emotions to herself. They were habits she'd carried into adulthood.

  Now she was fiercely independent, and she liked it that way. Few, if any, had penetrated her protective shell.

  Dax had, though, and it was scary stuff.

  She dressed, then took Taylor next door to her baby-sitter, Mrs. Chapman. The woman was sixty-five and spry as a woman half her age, even if she spent her days wearing formal velvet dresses and watching soap operas. She loved Taylor with all her heart, which was enough for Amber.

  On the drive to Dax's office, Amber practiced her breathing techniques and concentrated hard on calm images, but all she could think about was that one day they'd spent together, so long ago.

  He would have done anything to protect her that day, and so far she'd paid him back by hiding his daughter from him and being as rude and hard to be with as possible. Something had to give, and she wasn't sure it could be her. But she had to try.

  She was climbing the steps of the station, her apology on her lips, picturing a miserable and hungry Dax, when he came out.

  He had a woman on each arm, and he was smiling—grinning actually—looking happy, confident, strikingly handsome and not even remotely miserable.

  The bastard. The least he could have done was to look hungry.

  The women were smiling, too, also looking happy, confident and strikingly handsome.

  Any urge to apologize vaporized.

  Wishing she could disappear into a great big black hole, Amber faltered, but of course it was too late to run. She was out in the open, only a few steps below them. Any second, he was going to notice her.

  If he ever took his eyes off the other women, that is.

  "Oh Dax," simpered the tall, thin, gorgeous blonde on his left. "This has been a long time coming."

  "I know. You've been so patient." Dax smiled into her eyes. "Work's been a bear."

  "All I want to know is, are you going to make the wait worthwhile?" The redhead on his right lifted a suggestive brow, making promises with her eyes that made Amber roll hers.

  "Absolutely," Dax told her, still smiling.

  "Good. Because…" The blonde leaned close and whispered something in his ear.

  His eyebrows shot straight up.

  "No secrets," pouted the redhead, pressing her lush curves against Dax.

  He smiled at her, too, his eyes heavy and slumberous.

  Amber gritted her teeth. They were almost on top of her now, and he was so busy with bimbette-one and bimbette-two that he hadn't even seen her!

  This was the man she pictured as miserable all night because of her rudeness? Ha!

  Since she couldn't disappear into thin air, she would have to handle this as she would any uncomfortable situation, with her famed, icy control. "Good morning, Dax," she said, ever so proud of her cool voice. She only hoped he couldn't see the steam coming out of her ears.

  "Amber." He stopped short, clearly surprised. "Hello."

  Amber didn't want to think about how his smile suddenly warmed, or how this time it reached his eyes. No, she didn't want to think about that, or she'd lose her anger. Anger was good here, anger would get her through. "You look awfully busy this morning."

  He dropped his hold on his playmates and looked suddenly panicked. "Taylor. There's nothing wrong with her…"

  Well darn if that fierce worry in his expression didn't defuse a good part of her temper. "No, Taylor is fine." But since she wouldn't apologize now, she needed another reason for her appearance. Frantically she searched her mind and came up with … nothing. "I was just out for a walk and thought I'd say hello. So … hello." Forcing a smile, she turned away.

  "Wait."

  She didn't, couldn't.

  "Amber?"

  She couldn't get away fast enough, and behind her, she heard him swear.

  "Amber, wait—"

  Then he was there, alone, taking her arm and turning her back to face him. "Just out for a walk?" He shook his head. "Come on, Amber. What's this really about?"

  For some idiotic reason, her throat closed. "I told you. I'm just walking."

  He shot a doubtful look at her heels. "In those?"

  Cool. Calm. That was the ticket. "Are my shoes a problem for you?"

  "Not for me." He smiled angelically. "That's a pretty suit."

  "Thank you."

  "Personally, that short skirt could quickly become a favorite of mine, but it seems a waste to exercise in it."

  Dignity, she reminded herself. Keep it. "I always walk before work. It's terrific exercise."

  His look was long and knowing. "This place is at least twelve miles from your place."

  "I'm in excellent shape." She glanced at the women still waiting for Dax. They had rich curves and fabulous bodies, and she found her temper again. "For a woman who's just had a baby, anyway."

  "That you most definitely are." He ran a finger over her perfectly-in-place hair. "You sure look great for someone who's walked so far. Oh, and look at that…" He gestured to her car, parked on the street only fifteen feet away. "How in the world did that get here? Don't tell me it's trained to follow you on your morning constitutional."

  "Very funny."

  He grinned. She should have known better. For whatever reason, there was no controlling herself around him. "Glad I'm such a source of amusement for you. I have to go now."

  "Like you did last night?"

  Last night. The reason she'd come. "I'll talk to you later." No way was she going to apologize in front of an audience. "When you're not so … busy."

  It was as if he could see right through her. "I'm not too busy for you." He reached for her hand. His voice was low so that only she could hear it. Only problem, the exciting, rough timbre of it sent tingles down her spine. "What's the matter, Amber? Can't you tell me?"

  It was hard, she discovered, to feel his hands on her. She liked the warmth in them too much. Liked how important she felt. How special.

  That she could actually let herself depend on that warmth and strength scared her.

  He scared her.

  Then she remembered the women. "You visiting with your sisters?" she asked casually, not wanting to publicly misjudge him again, as she had in the medical center.

  Was that a flash of guilt that crossed his face as he glanced at them over his shoulder? "Ah … no. Not today."

  Okay, then. "Gotta go."

  "Wait—"

  But
she couldn't, she just couldn't.

  * * *

  Dax watched Amber escape. His obligation, in the form of four fine legs behind him, burned. Not that Amber would have believed him if he'd told her.

  Hell, half of the people he knew wouldn't believe him.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the two women. In response, they both waved and giggled. Skin shimmered. Breasts jiggled.

  Dax groaned, but the decision was actually easy. He raced after Amber, catching her just as she unlocked her car.

  "Amber."

  She glared at him.

  "Come on, baby—"

  She went rigid. "I am most definitely not your baby. Check with the two women waiting for you. I'm sure either of them would swoon at the opportunity to be called by such an endearing term."

  He had no idea why he found her stiff unyielding attitude so wildly appealing, or why he suddenly felt like grinning. "Just listen to me, that's all I'm asking."

  "I'm in a hurry."

  Oh yeah, she was in a hurry. But she'd come to him. And he wanted to know why. "Please?" He risked touching her again, running his fingers up and down her arm. He couldn't seem to help himself, he had to have that connection.

  She went completely still. Nothing gave her away, but he just knew she responded to his touch. He looked into her inscrutable face and wished she'd show him how she really felt, wished he didn't have to guess. "About the women…"

  "Uh-huh."

  "I know what you're probably thinking."

  "I doubt it." She sighed. "Dax, really. You don't have to explain why you're going on a date, much less why you're doing it in the morning, with two women. It's none of my business."

  "It's not a date."

  The two women, apparently tired of waiting, came down the stairs. The redhead smiled at Amber. "We won him in an auction." She smiled wickedly. "He's ours for the rest of the day."

  "It's true." The blonde smiled, almost licking her lips in anticipation. "We can do whatever we want with him, we were promised."

  Together, they grinned.

  Unbelievably, Dax felt himself blush. "The auction was a long time ago," he said quickly. "And I've been too busy to meet my obligation—" This wasn't going well, he could tell by the ice in Amber's gaze. "It was to raise money for the fire stations on the west side," he added. "All the guys did it."

  "But you brought in the most money," the redhead added helpfully.

  "Did he now?" Amber asked coolly.

  "Uh… Ladies, I'll be with you in just a moment, okay?"

  Thank God they took the hint and backed off, giving him and Amber some desperately needed privacy. Only problem, he didn't have a clue as to what to say.

  Amber slid on a pair of mirrored sunglasses and got into her car. "Sounds like you're in for quite a day, Dax. I'd say be good, but I already know you will be."

  * * *

  Somehow Dax managed to escape Ginger and Cici's clutches relatively unscathed. It was mid-day by the time he did it, though. Ignoring his stacked messages and overworked secretary, he drove straight to Amber's office.

  He couldn't explain his urgency or why, for the first time in the ten years he'd been participating in the bachelor auction fund-raiser, he resented the time he'd spent. All day he'd yearned to be somewhere else.

  He'd wanted to be with Taylor. And okay, maybe with Amber, too, but that made no sense. Still, he couldn't get to her office fast enough, couldn't wait to try to soothe her ruffled feathers. And her feathers had most definitely been ruffled, whether she admitted it or not.

  Suddenly that thought made him grin, and he loped up the stairs to the building where she worked.

  Amber's secretary explained she was in a meeting and couldn't be disturbed. Dax gave her his most charming smile, but she didn't budge. Around him, the office buzzed with new listings, new sales and the general excitement of a place on the move.

  Dax waited until the secretary picked up a phone before he simply strode past her desk toward Amber's closed door.

  "Hey," the woman called out, "you can't just—"

  Dax let himself into Amber's office and carefully shut the door on her secretary's protests.

  Amber was behind her desk, a pair of reading glasses perched on her nose, a pencil in her mouth, a phone to her ear. Her eyes were even, her hands steady, her every hair in place. She'd shed the power jacket, but the white blouse she wore was wrinklefree, prim and proper.

  Somewhere beneath that icy control lay the passion he remembered so well. He'd caught a tiny glimpse of it that morning, behind her cool facade. She'd been mad as hell at him, and mad as hell at herself for feeling that emotion in the first place.

  Dax grinned again.

  At the sight of him, her carefully painted mouth tightened, but that was the only outward sign he received. She didn't rush, and when she was done with her phone call, she slowly set down her pencil, removed her glasses and looked at him. "Back so soon?" Her voice was smooth and very polite. "I would have thought Barbie and Sunshine would keep you tied up for hours."

  "Ginger and Cici," he corrected. "And though they were very … persuasive, I managed to escape."

  "Hmmm." She bent to her work, but her knuckles went white on the pencil she gripped. "I bet."

  "And how was your day?" he inquired conversationally, sitting uninvited on a chair in front of her desk.

  "Busy." She glanced at him pointedly. "Still is."

  Ah, the cold shoulder. "You probably didn't miss me one little bit, did you?"

  "Not one little bit," she agreed.

  He couldn't help it, he laughed.

  Her eyes chilled several degrees. "If you don't mind…"

  "Amber." He controlled himself, but the smile remained. "Admit it, you're jealous as hell."

  Aghast, she stared at him. "You've been drinking."

  "I don't drink."

  "Then you're delusional." She leaned forward. "Just so you know, I never get jealous. Certainly not over a nitwit who enjoys dating brainless—"

  "Careful," he said, laughing again. "You might prove my point."

  She was still for a long beat. Then regally she rose and pointed an elegant finger at the door. "I think you should leave."

  "So you can recapture that famous control?" He rose, too, and came around her desk. "I don't think so. Watching your temper rise is fascinating, Amber. In fact, everything about you is fascinating."

  She shook her head, her composure slipping enough to show her genuine confusion. "I don't know what you want from me."

  "Lots. But I'll start with this." He hauled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a stupid move, uncalculated as it was genuine, but he didn't stop.

  She went still as stone, but didn't push him away. Taking that for permission, he dove into her sweet mouth, mating his tongue to hers, giving, urging, pouring everything he had into that kiss until he felt her hands open on his shoulders, then grab fistfuls of his shirt.

  "Yeah, now that's what I've wanted all damn day," he whispered. "That and this…" He kissed her again, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer, then closer still.

  With a little murmur of acquiescence that made him even hotter, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back until he couldn't remember his name, much less his point.

  When the kiss ended, he murmured in her ear. "The women meant nothing to me," he said. "It was an obligation, one I made months ago." Lifting his head, he looked into her eyes. "They paid big bucks. Money that will be well spent." He kissed her again. The helpless sounds of arousal she made were the most erotic he'd ever heard. "Be jealous, Amber. Wish you could take their place if you want. Kiss me stupid again if it helps. But please, don't be mad at me anymore."

  She touched her wet mouth, looking shell-shocked, as if she couldn't believe how she'd lost herself. "I'm not angry," she whispered and sank into her chair. "I need to work now."

  She needed to think, he realized, and he would let her because that was how she worked, and he did
n't intend to rush her.

  Hell, he didn't want to rush himself. Leaning in close, he gave her one last kiss, pleased to feel her cling to him for just a second.

  He was half out of her office when she called him. Turning, he looked at her over his shoulder.

  "I wasn't jealous," she told him. "Much." Her mouth curved as she offered him a smile, and Dax felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  « ^ »

  That night, arms full of her briefcase, a diaper bag, dinner and Taylor, Amber let herself into her condo. Her feet were killing her and so was the whirlwind her life had become.

  Going back to work had been good for her self-esteem because she was still good at it. She needed the money, too, having depleted her savings over the past year in Mexico. But balancing her wild hours with her newfound motherhood was much tougher than she could have imagined.

  Naturally, before she could set a thing down, the phone rang. Dropping her purse and dinner to the counter, she freed up a hand to grab it.

  "Let's start all over."

  The low, sexy voice liquefied her bones. "Excuse me?"

  "I want to start over," Dax said.

  Amber settled the phone between her jaw and shoulder, and kicked off her heels. "From where?"

  "From the beginning, but I'd settle for the night I brought you dinner. Was it good by the way?"

  Amber placed Taylor in her swing. Her jacket hit a chair and relieved of all her weight, she sagged against the counter. "I suppose I should apologize for that. But yes, it was good." She paused. "So was yours."

  Dax laughed softly and the sound vibrated through her body, pooling in certain erogenous spots she rarely thought about.

  "I like a woman with a healthy appetite." She thought about the smile she could hear in his voice and wondered if all the women he rescued fell for him. Probably, she admitted.

  But she was above such things.

  "How was lunch with my father?" she asked, purposely hardening herself. "I never got to ask you."

  "Your father is a single-minded, opinionated, walking, talking ego."

  "Tell me something I don't know."

  "Okay… You care what he thinks of you." How was it that he went directly to the heart of the matter every time? And how was it that she let him?