One Night in Weaver...

Tristan snorted, his eyes filling with honest-to-God mirth. “Honor runs thicker in your veins than blood does, kid. Why else do you think I recruited you out of the Rangers?”

“There’s no honor in letting a man get away with murder.”

“He hasn’t gotten away with it yet, has he?” Tristan’s voice was smooth. “Until I got him transferred here to my watch, he was wearing leg irons in a military prison. But that cozy safe house you’re all pissed off about now still doesn’t unlock from the inside.” He pulled open the door.

The soft, feminine gasp that greeted them didn’t stump the older man for even a second as his face creased into a wide, welcoming smile. “Dr. Templeton. My wife was just wondering when you’d be arriving.” He stepped back, his arm wide in invitation. “Come in. Can’t have the maid of honor standing out on the front porch.”

Hayley Templeton stared back at them above the large gift-wrapped box she was holding, her dark brown eyes looking like melted chocolate in the dwindling sunset. But her gaze instantly flicked away from Seth’s like a skittish firefly.

It had been that way ever since that night at Colbys several months ago.

Her soft lips stretched into a smile that wasn’t entirely steady. “Mr. Clay,” she greeted. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” Her gaze flicked to Seth’s again. “I, was, um, was tied up with a new patient.”

“It’s Tristan, Hayley. I’ve told you that before. And patients come first. We all certainly understand that.” He looked over his shoulder for a moment when his wife called his name. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment before turning back to Hayley. His gaze took in Seth, as well. “Seth, before you head out, help the doctor here with that gift of hers and make sure she has a drink, would you?” Then he excused himself, his easy smile still in place.

Hayley’s, though, turned even more ragged at the edges and her eyes still wouldn’t meet Seth’s for more than a nanosecond. “I’m a big girl,” she said quickly. “I don’t need help with the gift.”

“Much less getting a drink.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “A gentleman wouldn’t remind me of that.”

“I never said I was a gentleman.” But his father hadn’t raised him to be a complete cretin, either, despite their male-only household. “Don’t worry so much, Doc. You had a few too many that night,” he said with a shrug. “Plenty of us have done the same at one time or another.” Without waiting for permission, he lifted the box out of her hands and turned to carry it inside.

“Well, I don’t make a habit of it,” she muttered as she closed the door and hurried to keep up with him. “Not drinking too much and certainly not going home with strange men.”

“Never said you did.” He glanced at her. “If you had bothered to return either of the messages I left you after that night, I might have had a chance to reassure you of that.” He entered the crowded living room, set the box on the floor next to the other gifts that overflowed from the low table in front of the couch where Jane and Casey were seated and edged back out of the room.

Hayley was waiting where he’d left her on the perimeter of the room. Nobody else seemed to have noticed her arrival, but he was still more than a little surprised when she turned and trotted after him as he headed back to the foyer and the front door. “Seth, wait.”

He stopped, turned and raised his brows.

She looked pained. “I should have.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “Returned your message.” She quickly looked over her shoulder. “Could we take this outside, at least?”

“Don’t want the masses to know you socialize with a lowly security guard?”

She gave him a look. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what’s your problem, Doc? You hightailed it out of my place before the sun came up the next morning.”

“I was embarrassed!” Her voice had risen a bit and she looked annoyed again. She ran her hand over her head, smoothing back her ponytail even though it already looked perfectly smooth to him.

Irritatingly, his memory filled in just how silky it was.

Then she caught his sleeve and pulled him out the front door and onto the porch. She closed the door behind them and immediately let go to move several feet away, where she crossed her arms.

No point in remembering how silky her hair was when she wanted nothing to do with him.

Even though they were outside, she still lowered her voice. “I was embarrassed,” she said again. “I’ve never found myself in...in that position before, and I handled it poorly. And I, well, I apologize for that. I meant no offense.”

He hadn’t been offended.

Disappointed a little. Maybe more than a little.

But he was thirty-eight years old and he told himself he was too jaded to get upset over a woman. Particularly one as beautiful and out-of-reach as Dr. Hayley Templeton. He shrugged again. “No sweat. The only reason I left those messages in the first place was to make sure you were okay.” That was true enough.

She blinked. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it was obviously not that. “Um...okay, then. So, we can just forget it ever happened?”

“Yup.” He started down the wide, shallow porch steps but looked back at her. She was wearing a pale gray pencil skirt that ended just below her knees and a white long-sleeved blouse that was buttoned to just below the hollow of her slender throat.

Aside from her tall, shocking-pink high heels, she looked prim and proper as if she’d just come from a session with a patient, even though it was eight o’clock on a Saturday evening. All he could think about was how fun it would be to get her all mussed up. To finish what they’d never gotten to start the night she’d gone home with him.

But she’d already made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. She was not interested. And now, according to Tristan, her latest patient was one Jason McGregor.

He ruthlessly uprooted the idea germinating in the back of his mind. She had a spotless reputation around town. And she had to be exceptionally good at what she did to earn Tristan Clay’s confidence. She would never betray a patient’s confidentiality to Seth, even if he could get into her confidence. Which, considering everything, was unlikely.

Not to mention the fact that Tristan would have his head if he tried. Few people earned Seth’s respect, particularly ones with that much money. But his boss was one of them. He disagreed like hell with the man over McGregor, but that didn’t change that one basic fact.

“Better get inside,” he advised. “Maid of honor and all.”

She put one hand on the door latch. “Are you working at Cee-Vid tonight or something?”

Or something. “No.” He wondered why she bothered with small talk. Why she didn’t go inside.

And he wondered why he wondered. “Not in the mood for a party.” A breeze drifted over them, playing with her silky ponytail and making her blouse flutter against her body. He wasn’t a cretin, but he was a man. And regardless of what had happened three months ago—or had not happened, to be more precise—he’d have to be dead not to appreciate the here-and-gone-again whisper of lace and the gentle curve beneath that thin white fabric.

“Stay away from the cosmopolitans, Dr. Templeton,” he advised, backing down the last of the porch steps. His lips twisted in a smile. “The next guy you’re with might not be as much of a gentleman as I was.”

* * *

Intent on escaping this unsettling man, Hayley was halfway inside the Clays’ house again when Seth’s words penetrated enough to make sense—and annoyance swept through her.

Maybe she hadn’t handled that night with him very well, but he hadn’t exactly turned out to be Mr. Charming, either.

She looked back.

He was already striding across the long driveway crowded with vehicles of every make and model, his dark head lowered slightly like that of a man deep in thought.

Behind her, she could hear the sounds of the wedding shower that she’d have been on time for if not for taking on a new patient at Tristan’s own request.

Moving abruptly, she went back outside, quickly closing the door again. Jane Cohen was her best friend. If anyone would understand, it was Jane.

Then Hayley hurried down the steps, her high-heeled pumps clicking on the paved driveway as she half-jogged after Seth. Because of her tardiness to the party, she was parked at the tail end of the long line of cars. But Seth, who’d parked much closer to the house, had already reached his dusty gray pickup truck, so she quickened her pace.

Running with Sam in the park a few times a week properly equipped with appropriate shoes was a snap compared to jogging down a crowded driveway in four-inch heels and a narrow skirt. “Seth!”

He showed no sign of hearing her as he started up his truck and inched his way out from between the other cars. She cursed when her heel caught on an uneven spot and her ankle twisted painfully.

Feeling wholly undignified—the same way she’d felt waking alone in Seth’s bed months ago with a splitting headache and wearing nothing but her bra and panties—she stopped and leaned against the hood of the SUV next to her. She reached down to tug off her shoe and gingerly rotated her foot, watching Seth’s taillights as he drove away.