Izabelle

My phone dinged with the sound of an incoming text. Warily, I withdrew it from my pocket and tapped the screen.

Scott: Who's the new guy?

Lifting my head, I glanced around and searched the mass of people. Even if Scott was here, I wouldn't be able to see him in the crowd. He always seemed to know where I was and what I was doing. It was unnerving.

Shooters was the last place Scott would come. He hated country music, dancing, and beer, all of which he felt were beneath him. He preferred expensive wine and soft jazz.

I doubted he was here. He'd probably sent the text to mess with me. He'd always been jealous even though I'd never given him a reason. I didn't bother to respond.

It was late and I was exhausted. Lucy and Katie had already gone home. Ava's friend Mia met us and the two of them were doing tequila shots in between bouts of singing, giggling, and dancing.

They didn't look too good. "How are you getting home?"

"What are you, our mother?" Mia laughed.

"She's just concerned," Ava defended me. "Relax, Izabelle, we're calling a cab. You taking off already?"

I nodded. "Have fun and stay safe."

"See ya'."

"Bye, Mom!" Mia bellowed drunkenly, her mocking gaze following me.

I glanced back to see her wave. She was right about one thing. Twenty-eight was too old to spend my nights at a bar, especially when I had to go to work early the next morning.

A lot of women my age were married with children. Pretending I enjoyed the single life was getting tougher. What I really wanted was a family—a husband, children, and evenings spent at home having dinner and playing board games. I wasn't sure how to find a man that was honest, dependable, someone that would love me despite how messed up I was.

Hunter.

Why did I always think of him?

Because my heart longed for Hunter, but after tonight I was sure that would never happen. Not that I had a chance with him anyway. He didn't look at me any differently now than he did when I was sixteen, which was a little strange. Men usually noticed me—no, correction. They noticed my looks. Not one cared to get to know me. Except for Scott, which is why I stuck around for so long.

Walking outside, I inhaled the fresh night air only to get a whiff of smoke as I passed a couple kissing in between drags of their cigarettes. I kept moving, my keys already out, and my gaze scanning the lot cautiously before finding the car I'd finally finished paying Scott for. That he hadn't handed over the title frustrated me, but I figured he'd come around. After all, he was the one sleeping around.

Reaching for the handle, I pulled the door open and slid in.

"Izabelle."

The deep voice startled me. I gasped and lifted the keys like a weapon, but I stopped suddenly. Hunter Donovan towered over me like a hero straight from my dreams. My heart skipped a beat, then began to pick up speed.

"You shouldn't drive." The words were softly spoken, but there was no mistaking the command.

He held out his hand and I took it, allowing him to pull me out of the car. The feel of my skin against his sent a spark up my arm. His eyes widened, and I wondered if he felt it too.

"I didn't know you were still here." I was all shivery and breathless, and that was before my gaze fastened on his mouth.

His lips compressed into a firm line. "I waited for you."

My eyes widened. "You waited for me?" Surprise and confusion tangled. I tried to act cool. "If this is about your clothes, send me the dry-cleaning bill."

"I can wash my own clothes." He stared at me like I might be a little crazy. "I'm driving you home."

"I get it," I laughed. "I'm sober. Trust me. It would be way less embarrassing to blame my behavior on alcohol."

Once brow lifted. He glanced down, and I realized I was still holding his hand. My train of thought hit a speed bump as I processed this.

I was clutching Hunter Donovan's hand, and he was letting me. After everything that happened, I didn't think it was possible to make an even bigger fool of myself. Heat crept up my neck. I released him immediately and took a step back.

Surprisingly, he didn't seem as pleased about this as I'd thought he would be. "I'd appreciate a ride, but it's not safe to leave a car here overnight."

"You're in luck," he said with a smile that made my breath catch. "I came with a friend, and they've already gone. I'll drive your car."

"Your friend didn't mind you going home without her?" I prayed my tone wasn't reeking of jealousy.

"He didn't care at all."

"Oh. Ohh. He? I'm sorry I didn't realize you were—"

"I'm not. Spare us both and don't finish that sentence." His lips twitched. "Give me the keys," he said patiently.

"And if I don't?" I countered, clutching them against my chest.

"Izabelle." The way he said my name had a powerful effect on me. "You can get into serious trouble drinking and driving."

"I know." Mischief inspired my next remark. "If we get stopped, you're the one that smells like a brewery."

"Cute." He grinned. "I don't drink."

This caught my attention. "Not at all?"

Steady blue eyes held mine. "No. I like to be in control."

"Is that a general statement or are you talking about women?" I shamelessly flirted, surprising myself.

Something flashed in the depths of those deep blue eyes. He braced one hand on the top of the car and the other on the door. I was claustrophobic, but I didn't feel trapped. I felt alive. Energized.

He smelled incredible. Like aftershave, mint, and something else that was all Hunter.

Just when I thought he wouldn't answer, his gravelly voice replied, "Both. Now hand over the keys." I did as he asked and our fingers brushed sending a delicious current along my skin.

My brain turned to mush. What was I thinking? Being alone with this man was the worst idea ever. "I'm not sure this is a good idea. I don't want to end up on one of those unsolved crime dramas."

His brows knitted. He looked half-annoyed and half-amused. "I can call you a cab."

I didn't have the cash for that, but I wasn't sharing that detail. If Hunter wanted to drive me home, I'd let him. "Fine, but be nice to Rooster."

His eyes cut to mine. "You named your car Rooster?"

"Careful, he gets offended when people make fun of his name." I quickly slid into the driver's seat and scooted over.

Hunter got in and moved the seat back to accommodate his six-foot-plus frame. His commanding presence seemed to shrink the cab, sucking the energy out and delivering it to him as if his persona wasn't electrifying enough.

"How will you get home?"

"Cab." He glanced over, frowning. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I laughed. Fear was not what I felt for this man. "Interesting change of subject. And I thought I was socially awkward."

A heartbeat of silence.

He chuckled softly. "You're gripping the passenger door like I might attack at any moment."

"What? No. I am not." My chin dipped, seeking confirmation. He was right. I released the door. "I hadn't realized. I'm not afraid of you."

"Good. What's your address?"

He didn't seem pleased. "You should move. This isn't the place for a single young woman."

True. The police frequently visited our complex in the middle of the night. Just last week my neighbor had been arrested for selling drugs, another tenant had been taken in for domestic abuse, and there were whispers of murder.

Kyle had been on my case about moving. He'd invited me to live with him, but I hadn't fallen low enough to live with my little brother. Yet.

"It's all I can afford."

Hunter's expression was grim, but he made no comment. He had one hand resting on the steering wheel, relaxed yet completely in control. My heart tripped a beat. He looked ten years younger than he was and had more appeal than any man I'd ever known.

Lucy told me her dad had been eighteen when she was born and that he hadn't been serious about any other woman since her mom. I wondered if he was still in love with his wife. Mostly I wondered if he ever thought of me.

"Hun—Captain Donovan." He turned to look at me, probably thinking I'd almost called him honey. Yes, I was as smooth as sandpaper. "I know it's been a long time. Twelve years." I took a deep breath. "Do you remember me?"

His eyes softened. "I remember you, Izabelle."

My heart warmed like a roasted marshmallow. "You never acted as if you knew me, other than as Lucy's friend. Why did you stop visiting us?"

I could tell the question caught him off guard. "I didn't. When you and Kyle were younger, I drove by your place and checked to make sure you were ok. Your brother called me occasionally, and he let me know if you needed anything."

"I never knew." My mind began to race. Kyle had suffered so much because of Darryl. Somehow when things were darkest and I had no idea how we'd make it, we always managed to scrape enough together to pay our bills.

A sneaking suspicion filled me. "You gave us money."

He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

After all these years, why couldn't the past just stay where it belonged instead of creeping up when I least expected it? "How much do I owe you?"

He looked surprised. "I don't want your money, Izabelle."

Everyone wanted something. No matter how nice they pretended to be.

It made me sick to think of what he was implying, but I should have known better than to believe he was different from other men. He hadn't hung around to make sure I'd gotten home safely. Hunter—Captain Donovan had finally decided to collect on a debt.

When he got out of the car, I felt like throwing up. He came around and opened my door, a gallant gesture for a man that wouldn't allow me to repay my debt with cash. Once again, I'd been a complete fool where a man was concerned.

"Thanks for the ride." The words wobbled. Hoping I'd misunderstood, I decided to try one last time. "You don't need to walk me up."

"Yes, Izabelle, I do." His tone left no room for argument.

Shaking, I got out of the car and led him upstairs to my apartment. Loud music blared from the downstairs tenant below, but I was used to it and it didn't bother me. Hunter looked irritated.

He still had my keys so when we got to my apartment he opened the door and went inside. For an instant, I thought about running, but I'd learned problems had a way of catching up with me. I followed him, reluctantly, inside.

"Stay here," he said, stalking toward my bedroom.

I had no idea what kind of game he was playing, but I knew I despised it. I despised him, but I would see this through. Following, I found him coming out of my bathroom.

Kicking off my boots, I unbuttoned my jeans and shoved them down my legs. Next, I slipped the black lace tank top over my head so that I was standing before Captain Donovan in only a flesh-colored pair of panties and a bra.

Flipping my dark hair over my shoulder, I lifted my chin and tried to act confident and unaffected by what was killing me inside.

He froze in the doorway, looking stunned.

My heart pounded.

His gaze locked on mine. "Izabelle?"

I heard the uncertainty in his voice but didn't understand. "You'd better get undressed fast before I change my mind."

He didn't move. Then he did, but he took a step away from me.

"If you want me to pay you back, get undressed. Now." The words trembled and I felt tears sting my eyes, but I was too good at pretending. I forced a smile.

His lips parted, closed, and parted again. "What are you talking about?"

"I probably don't have all of it now, but if you've changed your mind about taking money, I can get it. I promise."

Something flashed in his eyes. His expression was...horrified? Hunter took another step backward. "You think I want you to have sex with me to pay off a debt." It wasn't a question, and I could tell the idea disgusted him.

"You said you wouldn't take my money. Then you came up to my apartment." The words were laced with accusation. "If you don't want sex, then what are you doing here?"

Hunter looked shaken. "I wanted to make sure your apartment was safe. I do the same for Lucy and Katie."

"You were checking my apartment?" I couldn't believe anyone would do something like that. Suddenly embarrassed, I picked up my clothes and quickly put them back on.

Unbelievably, Hunter turned his back while I dressed. He probably would have left the room, but I was blocking the door.

"I'm done." Would there be no end to the times I'd make a fool of myself in front of this man?

He turned around and his gaze tangled with mine.

"Izabelle, if you're ever in a situation like this again, I want you to call me. I'll give you the money. You're worth more than this."

"You act like this kind of thing happens to me a lot. It doesn't. This is a first. I'd never have slept with anyone else. Only you," I blurted the truth before realizing how it would sound to him. Like I had a major crush on him.

"What?"

"Figure it out."

His brow lifted. "Izabelle—"

"Don't say anything. Please. I've humiliated myself enough for one day." I shook my head. "Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea, juice?"

"Coffee," he surprised me by saying.

I figured he'd run. I hadn't expected him to accept the offer and I felt thrown off guard. We went into the small kitchen, which he seemed to dominate with his larger-than-life presence. As I started a pot of decaf with trembling hands, he sat at the bar studying the chipped linoleum.

I faked a look of bravery. "This doesn't have to be a big deal. Misunderstandings happen all the time."

"You're the only one of Lucy's friends who's offered to sleep with me."

"Bet I'm not the only one that's thought about it," I returned with a smile.

He looked as if the idea unsettled him.

"Do you have a girlfriend, Captain Donovan?" I asked, setting a mug of coffee in front of him that read, "It's a PMS morning."

"No."

"Well, that's a relief. I'd hate for you to have to explain this to her."

He picked up the mug, read it, and took a drink. "I won't be repeating this story."

"Not even to Lucy?"

"Especially not Lucy. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I guess that would be a strange conversation."

"No stranger than our conversation tonight." His lips twitched with a smile. "But I would never do anything to hurt you."

I got the cream out of the refrigerator and poured a healthy dose into my coffee along with several scoops of sugar. "You don't look like a guy who uses cream and sugar."

"But I do look like a guy who takes advantage of young women?"

"Nope. I'm just a lousy judge of character."

"The night that Kyle called me—"

I tensed. "You're still thinking about that? I've long forgotten it, I promise you."

"That's not an answer." His steady gaze held mine.

"You don't really want to hear this story." I gestured to the living room which was about five steps from the kitchen and set my coffee on the scarred table.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know," Hunter said, sinking into the worn couch. The springs squeaked a protest.

My cheeks heated. "Sorry. If you'd rather sit here—"

"I'm fine, Izabelle."

"Well, I'm fine too. You can stop worrying. I'm not emotionally traumatized."

"I never said that. It's just if I can help you, I don't mind."

"What is it with you, Donovan, can't you leave things alone? I'm not Lucy. You don't need to fix me."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, and I wondered if I'd offended him and he'd leave now. I started to apologize when he spoke.

"I grew up a lot like you and Kyle. I never knew my dad. My mom had enough loser boyfriends that I didn't really miss not having a dad. She finally left for good when I was sixteen."

I froze, my coffee mug suspended halfway to my lips. I'd assumed he'd had a normal life with two loving parents, a nice house with a backyard, and, maybe a dog.

The need to comfort him had me reaching for his hand, but I stopped, realizing what I was doing. "I'm sorry."

"I wanted you to know so if you're ever in trouble, you can trust me."

I didn't trust easily, but his admission made me think we weren't as different as I'd thought. "Thank you."

I couldn't say exactly why, but I did trust him. I trusted Hunter more than any man I'd known, and that absolutely terrified me.