Cal focused on driving close to the speed limit. Other than giving him directions, Monica remained silent on the return trip. When he swerved into the hospital entrance, Monica unfastened her seat belt. “You can drop me off at the emergency door. Thanks for tonight, Cal. Sorry it had such a weird ending.”

Drop her off? Not bloody likely. He wasn’t about to leave her alone with her ex. How long had they been together, and was it really over? Apparently not, since she couldn’t run to his side fast enough.

Hold up, was he jealous? Was that what this horrible feeling was, pouncing on his chest, working him up until he gripped the steering wheel so hard his fingers cramped? Possibly. Stupid and irrational, but there it was.

“I’m coming with you,” he said. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re all right.”

Monica whipped her head around to stare at him. “That’s totally not necessary, Cal. I’ll take a cab home. I’ll be fine.”

He circled the car park until he found a spot. “And yet, I’m not leaving your side.”

She shifted her upper body toward him. The yellow haze of the parking lights allowed Cal a tantalizing view of Monica’s braless tits in that low-cut dress. Her nipples tightened beneath his gaze. Less than an hour ago, he’d had her naked, straddling him—had been palming those breasts.

“Cal, I had a lovely time, but this is my real life, and I need to get back to it.” Monica swiveled and opened the door, then leaped out of the car. With quick, short steps, she walked toward the entrance.

A lovely time—that’s all it was? To Cal, it had been brilliant. Illicit, raunchy, amazing sex. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence afterward.

Despite Monica’s quick steps, Cal exited the car and caught up, matching his stride with hers. “It was more than lovely. It was bloody fucking fantastic. And what the hell does that mean, your real life? Am I an illusion?” Her choice of words rubbed him the wrong way.

“Come on, Cal, let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t.” She kept walking, kept looking forward.

Cal placed his hand on her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “What we just did is about as real as it gets, love.”

“No, it’s not.” With twisted lips, she finally gazed up at him. “We’re having fun, remember? My job, the gala, Ryan’s broken leg—they’re real life. You’re like a trip to Disneyland. Adventurous and exciting, but I know it’s going to be over in a couple of days. I have to go.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Cal had never been so stunned in his entire life. “What the fuck are you on about? I thought we were having a good time, yes, but I didn’t realize my cock was simply a theme-park ride. I think I’m insulted.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” She glanced over her shoulder in a self-conscious move. They were closer to the entrance now, and a group of people walked out of the building. “You’ll be leaving soon, Cal. Ryan needs me. What am I supposed to do?”

He captured Monica’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her soft cheeks. “Just out of curiosity, what ride am I?”

She paused a moment. “Big Thunder Mountain?”

Cal grinned. “I can live with that.” He leaned down and delivered a soft kiss. He ran his hands down the length of her forearms. “In we go. I’ve always wanted to see a Vegas hospital. It’s been my fondest dream since I was a lad. So, what ride is this Ryan fellow? It’s a Small World?”

Her lip curled in a scowl. “Those are the comments you’re going to keep to yourself.”

He began moving toward the entrance, leaving her behind. “Are you going to stand there all night?” He didn’t bother to stop or turn around. But a smile crept over his face when he heard her shoes tap along the pavement as she tried to catch up.

Chapter 10

When Cal walked into the large, square room, it was packed with people needing urgent care—most of them pissed to the gills, if the overwhelming stench of alcohol was any indication. “Don’t light a match,” he whispered, “or we’ll all be blown to bits.”

Monica broke away from him and hastened to the front desk, where a man in a chartreuse jacket and white linen slacks intercepted her. Was this Ryan, the bloke with the mussy hair and unfortunate clothing? Surely not, he had two working legs.

Cal strode forward and held out his hand. “Hello, Cal Hughes.” A bit on the short side—just under six feet—he wasn’t hideous, but Cal didn’t see anything special about him either. He wore his bored arrogance like a badge of honor, though. Full of himself. Confidence in one’s ability—that was acceptable, but unfounded arrogance simply grated.

“Evan Landers.” He inclined his head toward Monica. “Glad you’re getting this one out of the house. She works too much.”

So this wasn’t the ex, then. Suddenly, Evan seemed slightly more tolerable.

“If you’re already here, Ev, why did they call me?” Monica asked.

“The hospital didn’t call me. I received an incoherent text from Ryan. I thought you were hurt and rushed right over.” With a sigh, he grabbed his mobile from his pocket and ran a finger over the screen. “Read.” He held it up to Monica.

Ev, ouch. Hurt bad. Memorandum hospital. Monica. Cockatiel balls feet.

She gazed up at him. “What does that mean?”

“I did say incoherent.” Evan glanced at Cal. “I am speaking out loud, right? You can hear me?”

Monica glowered, so Cal held his grin in check.

“Is Ryan all right? Why didn’t you just call him back?” she asked.

Evan smacked his forehead. “Call him? God, you’re a genius. Why didn’t I think of that?” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I did call him. And I called you. Check your messages, why don’t you? Then I left Heather at my apartment—naked and covered in whipped cream, I might add.

“Turns out Golden Boy broke his leg while riding his bike. A hit and run. I’m tagging you in and hoping I still have a chance of getting laid tonight. The dress looks fantastic, by the way. Although a little wrinkled. And where’s your bra?” He glanced at Cal. “Good job, you.” He bent down and bussed Monica’s cheek. “I want details later.” Without a backward glance, Evan sauntered to the door.

“Well, he’s certainly…”

“A pain in the ass?”

“I was going to say colorful. Don’t tell me you dated him as well.”

“God, no. He’s my best friend. Still not sure why.”

Good to know. Evan got to go on living then.

Shit.

Cal had always viewed jealousy as a weakness, a failing in others he’d never understood, so his own reaction astounded him. An overwhelming pressure tightened like a band around his chest, making him feel possessive and petulant. Cal wanted Monica Campbell’s complete and undivided attention. He resented this Ryan and his broken leg more than he thought possible.

After Evan left, Monica approached the nurse sitting behind bulletproof glass. “I’m looking for Ryan McMillan. I’m his emergency contact.”

The woman’s blank face said she’d heard it all, seen even more, and wasn’t impressed by any of it. “Let me see some ID.”

Monica dug out her driving license. Cal caught a glance at the photo—Monica, unsmiling, in a navy suit and matching blouse.

“Go on back.” The nurse buzzed the door. “Room three.”

He stayed by her side as they entered the double doors. While Monica searched for number three, Cal tapped her wallet. “You need a new ID. You look like a nun in that photo.”

She glared up at him. “I look like a professional woman, which I am.”

“A professional for the God Squad.”

She stopped at a sliding glass door and knocked softly. A young, pretty nurse in pink scrubs swept the curtain aside and opened the door. “Monica Campbell?”

“Yes.”

“He’s been asking for you. Come on in.”

Cal glanced at Ryan, who lay on the bed, clutching the plastic rails. A black walking cast covered his left leg.