waist and hauled her against a strong, unyielding body.
Joe.
Shaken, she dropped her head to his shoulder, conscious that she was trembling, but unable to rule her actions or dark, anxious thoughts. Her lungs ached. Her fingers tingled. Heel to bone. Spike through flesh. Pain ! “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.”
“Let the memories come, Sofia.” He tightened his embrace, cupped the back of her head as he spoke calmly in her ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
She gasped for air. “Not safe.”
“Why?”
“Can’t breathe. Can’t …” She massaged a fierce pain in her chest. “Oh, Jesus. I think I’m having a heart attack.”
He lowered them both to the ground, pulled her onto his lap. “You’re not having a heart attack. Stop thinking about last night. Focus on something else. Something that makes you happy. Something special.”
“Lulu.”
“Your sister.” He laughed softly, his tone full of admiration. “She’s special, all right.” He smoothed his hand over her back, massaged her shoulders while she continued to clutch her chest and gulp for air. “Relax. Focus on Lulu. Imagine her in the kitchen cooking dinner for my brother.”
She imagined comical chaos. Nervous laughter squeezed past her constricted throat.
“Uh-huh.” He continued his relaxing ministrations, his hands comforting and sure. “Did she tell you about the night she made Chili Con Carne for him and his security team?”
She nodded, unclenching her fists as the tightness eased in her chest and the queasiness began to subside. “She said all five of them lapsed into coughing fits.”
“Murph said he and Gordo washed theirs down with beer. Moose and Davis swallowed theirs dry like the Neanderthals they are, but Bulls-eye …”
“… spit ground beef across the table hitting Gordo in the chest,” Sofia finished with a quirk of her trembling lips.
“Bulls-eye’s a wuss. A superior marksman, but a wuss.” Smiling, Joe pulled a bandanna from his shorts’ pockets. “Murphy said she must’ve used half a jar of chili pepper and Tabasco.”
“She asked them if it was too hot,” Sofia said in defense of Lulu. “They answered no, and cleaned their bowls.”
He smoothed his kerchief over her clammy face. “Eating the chili was safer than dealing with Murphy if they’d hurt her feelings. They picked their poison. No offense to your sister.”
“None taken.” She’d been a victim of Lulu’s cooking on more than one occasion. Unsettled by Joe’s tender care, Sofia nabbed his wrist and stilled his fussing. She felt his pulse thrumming beneath her fingers, met his gaze, and experienced an intense rush of sexual awareness.
No mistaking. No misinterpreting. His decadent whiskey-eyes swirled with raw desire. He worked his jaw. “Feeling better?”
“I feel like an idiot.” Her voice came out a strangled croak. “What just happened?”
“Panic attack.”
She trusted his diagnosis. A man trained in psychology would know the difference between hyperventilating and a coronary. She licked her dry lips. “A hangover, and then a panic attack. You’re not exactly seeing me at my best.”
His intoxicating gaze slid to her mouth. “I wouldn’t say that.”
More lethal than tequila, his warring gentle and dangerous aura struck her woozy with lust. “I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not.”
“Me either.” They were both lying. Thing was, she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself twice in one day. He had to make the first move.
Move
, dammit.
Joe’s body sizzled as he registered the challenge in Sofia’s eyes.
Don’t do it
, he told himself.
Show some restraint, asshole
. A light breeze ruffled her hair, wafting the scent of generic hotel shampoo. He envisioned her in her demi-bra and G-string, all that mocha flesh, and he snapped. Fuck restraint, he was all over her, and she was all for it.
They segued into a heated blur of groping hands and sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.
Joe.
Shaken, she dropped her head to his shoulder, conscious that she was trembling, but unable to rule her actions or dark, anxious thoughts. Her lungs ached. Her fingers tingled. Heel to bone. Spike through flesh. Pain ! “This isn’t real. This isn’t happening.”
“Let the memories come, Sofia.” He tightened his embrace, cupped the back of her head as he spoke calmly in her ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
She gasped for air. “Not safe.”
“Why?”
“Can’t breathe. Can’t …” She massaged a fierce pain in her chest. “Oh, Jesus. I think I’m having a heart attack.”
He lowered them both to the ground, pulled her onto his lap. “You’re not having a heart attack. Stop thinking about last night. Focus on something else. Something that makes you happy. Something special.”
“Lulu.”
“Your sister.” He laughed softly, his tone full of admiration. “She’s special, all right.” He smoothed his hand over her back, massaged her shoulders while she continued to clutch her chest and gulp for air. “Relax. Focus on Lulu. Imagine her in the kitchen cooking dinner for my brother.”
She imagined comical chaos. Nervous laughter squeezed past her constricted throat.
“Uh-huh.” He continued his relaxing ministrations, his hands comforting and sure. “Did she tell you about the night she made Chili Con Carne for him and his security team?”
She nodded, unclenching her fists as the tightness eased in her chest and the queasiness began to subside. “She said all five of them lapsed into coughing fits.”
“Murph said he and Gordo washed theirs down with beer. Moose and Davis swallowed theirs dry like the Neanderthals they are, but Bulls-eye …”
“… spit ground beef across the table hitting Gordo in the chest,” Sofia finished with a quirk of her trembling lips.
“Bulls-eye’s a wuss. A superior marksman, but a wuss.” Smiling, Joe pulled a bandanna from his shorts’ pockets. “Murphy said she must’ve used half a jar of chili pepper and Tabasco.”
“She asked them if it was too hot,” Sofia said in defense of Lulu. “They answered no, and cleaned their bowls.”
He smoothed his kerchief over her clammy face. “Eating the chili was safer than dealing with Murphy if they’d hurt her feelings. They picked their poison. No offense to your sister.”
“None taken.” She’d been a victim of Lulu’s cooking on more than one occasion. Unsettled by Joe’s tender care, Sofia nabbed his wrist and stilled his fussing. She felt his pulse thrumming beneath her fingers, met his gaze, and experienced an intense rush of sexual awareness.
No mistaking. No misinterpreting. His decadent whiskey-eyes swirled with raw desire. He worked his jaw. “Feeling better?”
“I feel like an idiot.” Her voice came out a strangled croak. “What just happened?”
“Panic attack.”
She trusted his diagnosis. A man trained in psychology would know the difference between hyperventilating and a coronary. She licked her dry lips. “A hangover, and then a panic attack. You’re not exactly seeing me at my best.”
His intoxicating gaze slid to her mouth. “I wouldn’t say that.”
More lethal than tequila, his warring gentle and dangerous aura struck her woozy with lust. “I thought you weren’t interested.”
“I’m not.”
“Me either.” They were both lying. Thing was, she wasn’t going to make a fool of herself twice in one day. He had to make the first move.
Move
, dammit.
Joe’s body sizzled as he registered the challenge in Sofia’s eyes.
Don’t do it
, he told himself.
Show some restraint, asshole
. A light breeze ruffled her hair, wafting the scent of generic hotel shampoo. He envisioned her in her demi-bra and G-string, all that mocha flesh, and he snapped. Fuck restraint, he was all over her, and she was all for it.
They segued into a heated blur of groping hands and sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.
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