“If you say so. What are you going to do with him, anyway?”

“I’ll spend the night with him, make sure he’s comfortable.”

Cal’s entire body tightened. Monica glanced at his fisted hand. “It’s just for one night.” She grabbed hold of it and rubbed her finger across his knuckles, caressing between the bumps until he unclenched it. Cal didn’t want her spending time with Ryan. If the shoe were on the other foot, she’d feel the same way, but she had obligations. She’d picked Ryan up, and now she felt responsible for him.

“I know tomorrow’s Saturday,” he said, “but you need your rest. Your friend Evan said you work too hard.”

“Honestly, I’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will. Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out, love.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. I’ll handle it.”

“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her lips.

She swatted his hand away. “Don’t shush me. I hate being shushed.”

“I know. You were quite vocal in the desert.”

Ryan rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “I’m kind of in pain here.”

Monica glanced over at him, startled. She’d almost forgotten why they were here. “God, Ryan. Sorry.”

Cal walked with Monica to the other side of the car, where she wedged herself into the backseat.

Once behind the wheel, Cal followed Ryan’s directions, first to the pharmacy, then to his condo in a well-heeled part of town.

Together, Monica and Cal helped Ryan out of the car, into the house, and onto the sofa.

He looked pale against the dark brown leather. Purple half-moons stood out in relief beneath his eyes and clashed with his yellow shirt. The road rash coloring his cheek had to be sore too. Monica hurried over and propped his broken leg on a few pillows to alleviate the pain. “Are you comfortable?”

“Of course he’s not. Poor git looks positively miserable.”

“I’m fine,” Ryan said. “Thanks for the ride home, Cal, but there’s no need for you to stay. I’ve already inconvenienced you enough.”

“Nonsense.”

Monica bustled around, bending over Ryan, arranging pillows behind his head. When she noticed he was shooting glances down her dress, checking out her bare breasts, she quickly straightened. “The doctor said you need to take your meds every four hours.”

“I can stay,” Cal said. He dropped into a chair and crossed his legs. “You go on.”

Monica needed to make Ryan something to eat, but she didn’t want to leave the two men alone. Cal was acting weird. “Why don’t you help me in the kitchen?”

“You know where everything is,” Ryan said, looking over his shoulder. Although he was in obvious pain, he threw a strained smile in Cal’s direction. “Monica practically lived here, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

Oh God. Not a pissing contest. “Cal. Help. Now.”

Cal stood and tailed her into the spotless kitchen. Ryan wasn’t much of a cook, and neither was she. When they were together, they ate out almost every night.

“Likes things tidy, doesn’t he?”

Monica rounded on him. “There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s refreshing to find a man who can pick up after himself. Listen, I think you should go.”

Crossing his arms, Cal leaned his hip against the granite island. “So you want me to leave you here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “I was trying to help you out. I thought my presence might act as a buffer, but if you want him pining after you, by all means, I’ll go.”

“Who are you kidding? You’re not trying to be helpful.”

Cal dropped his arms and stepped closer. If she took a deep, deep breath, Monica’s breasts would skim his chest. “The man’s been wounded. I feel nothing but pity for the poor, ugly sod.”

Monica took in Cal’s tanned skin and slanted smile. Ryan might be more traditionally handsome, but Cal’s irregular features appealed to her. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Cal’s eyes drifted to her mouth. “Tell me what you saw in him.”

“He’s a nice man.”

“That’s not a recommendation, darling, that’s an admonishment. Don’t let him hear you say it, he’ll never get over the humiliation.”

She moved past him to the fridge. “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with being a nice guy?”

“Nice guy is code for prat. Nice guys aren’t sexy. There’s a reason they finish last.”

Monica put some deli meat, cheese, and mayonnaise on the counter. She opened a cupboard and pulled out a loaf of bread. “Again, you’re ridiculous.” But one look at his face said he wasn’t joking, not this time.

“A comment like that will hurt him.”

“You men, you’re all ego.”

“Yeah, we are.”

As Monica threw together two sandwiches, one for Ryan and one for Cal, she pondered his statement. Ryan’s niceness had drawn her to him. But only because he was the opposite of every guy who’d screwed her over. “What’s wrong with being a nice guy? Treating a woman with care and respect?”

“Have I treated you with anything less than respect, Monica Campbell?” His rough voice sounded brusque.

“I didn’t mean you. Ryan is the type of guy women want to marry. He’s long-term material.”

Cal moved closer. Monica’s nipples peaked against his shirt. “And I’m not?” he asked.

Monica forced herself to glance up at him, to meet his eyes. “No, you’re not. You travel all over the world, never stay in one place for long. You don’t want to settle down.”

“Do you?” The way his green gaze probed her, she felt like he could see all the way to her soul. “You were never honest with him. He doesn’t know you at all. Which Monica did you show him? The one who wears ugly clothes that cover every centimeter of skin or the one who likes to drive fast and get naked in the car? Because frankly, the latter is a hell of a lot more interesting.”

“Fuck you, Cal,” she said between clenched teeth.

As his gaze slowly wandered over her face, his eyes widened. “You should let that fiery side out more often. It’s a delight.” Then he swooped down, planting his lips on hers.

He didn’t lean into her, didn’t touch any other part of her body. She could have pulled away at any time. Instead, Monica raised her head so she could taste more of him. All the desire she’d felt in the Mustang slammed back into her, increasing tenfold. Dropping the mayonnaise lid, she grabbed his face, stroking her palms over his cheeks as she kissed him back.

“Monica, everything okay in there?” That distant voice sounded familiar.

Ryan. Shit, how could she stand here in his kitchen, making out with Calum Hughes? Had she lost every functioning brain cell she possessed?

Apparently, yes. Because even now, as she dropped her hands and tore her lips from his, she still wanted more.

Chapter 11

Cal watched Monica’s expression change. Her lips, so soft and yielding a moment ago, firmed. Her jaw muscles tightened. She was fighting herself as much as she was fighting him.

“What the hell am I doing?” she asked.

She was talking to herself, not Cal. Nevertheless, he answered. “Having fun. Living your life. Did you really think you’d be happy with him?”

“Coming, Ryan,” she yelled and began busying her hands.

Cal grabbed them and held on when she tried to pull away.

“Let me go, Cal.”

“Darling, go home. Get some rest or work on your foundation whatnots. I’ll take care of him.” Cal wanted to clear the anxiety from her eyes almost as much as he wanted to shag her again. “I can see that you’re worried and you’ll go to work tomorrow whether or not you get a wink of sleep. And truly, he will glom on to this, make it into a reconciliation. He’s desperate to get you back—any fool can see that.”

Biting her lip, she looked into his eyes, searching. “You’re not planning on feeding him too many painkillers, are you?”

Cal grinned. “I’m not planning on it, but I might improvise.” He let her pull away this time. When she crossed her arms, he reached out and played with a piece of her hair. Like silk. So soft and deep golden, with light amber streaks. “I’m only joking. Sort of. Come on, let’s go break the news.” Cal dropped her hair and grabbed the plates.