“Anything,” Jade said, relieved.
Lilah watched the kitten jump up on the couch and make herself at home. “Why did you keep her?”
They both looked at the kitten now daintily licking her Lady Town.
Jade bit her lower lip. “I don’t know. Anyone claim her?”
“Nope. And she’s going to leave hair all over that pretty couch.”
“I didn’t want her to be put down,” Jade said.
“I don’t put animals down. Ever. And you know that.”
Jade sighed. “Look, she acclimated. I can’t kick her out now.”
Lilah grinned. “You are so full of shit tonight. All the way around. Why can’t you just admit you’ve fallen for her?”
“I don’t fall.”
At that, Lilah laughed outright. “Oh, honey. Haven’t you learned yet? You can control a lot of things—work, what you watch on TV, how much ice cream you inhale—but you can’t control what your heart does.”
Jade brooded over that for a moment. “You can control how much ice cream you inhale?”
Lilah laughed again. “Come on, Brady’s meeting us at the bar. He told me I had to be on time tonight or he wouldn’t put out later.” She took one last look around and sighed wistfully. “Someday,” she murmured. “I’m going to have a place like this.”
Jade followed Lilah out and carefully set her alarm. Maybe she had the more expensive place and bigger savings account, but out of the two of them, Lilah with her tiny cabin, kennels, and adoring boyfriend was by far the richer.
Jade accepted her small glass of wine from the bartender and lifted a brow at the huge margarita he placed in front of Lilah.
“I have big plans for tonight,” Lilah said with a grin, licking the salt off the edge of the glass.
“Does it involve being flat on your ass?” Jade asked.
Lilah laughed and took a healthy sip of her drink. “Flat on my back maybe.” She grinned stupidly at the man who walked into the bar and headed directly for her.
Brady Miller.
The big, badass ex–army ranger didn’t look any less big and bad as he returned Lilah’s goofy smile and bodily plucked her out of her chair and squeezed her tight.
Lilah sighed sweetly, cupped his face, and kissed him long and hard, like maybe she hadn’t seen him in a year instead of that morning before she’d left for work.
Jade turned away to give them a moment, and herself, too. Had a man ever looked at her in the way Brady looked at Lilah? If so, she couldn’t remember it.
She’d dated in Chicago, usually with men she met through her connections at work or at the charity events she’d often run for her family. Similar minded as she, these men had professional lives that took up much of their time, and for whatever reason, not a one of them had sparked a long-term interest.
They’d been wrong for her.
She was good at that, meeting men who were wrong for her.
Still, she’d managed to have relationships, some that had even hung on for a few months at a time, often longer than they should have. What hadn’t happened was the magic that made her want to take the next step. Magic she would have said didn’t exist.
Except it did.
She was looking at it between Brady and Lilah. Then she locked eyes on another man entirely, Dr. Dell Connelly. She felt a little quiver, which was ridiculous because out of all the men in the land, he was the most wrong for her of them all.
Three
Dell and Adam walked toward the bar, side by side, looking like the brothers they were from head to toe. Of the two, Adam was two years older but they almost could have passed for twins. Dark disheveled hair, dark eyes, features as strong and beautiful as fallen angels. Mix that with his dark skin and six feet plus of solid muscle and testosterone, and there wasn’t a woman in the place not wishing they were going home with one of them.
Or both.
There were subtle differences though, if you knew them, and after working for them, Jade knew them well.
Adam was his usual unsmiling, serious self. Dell was much more open, already looking like he was having a good time, but the truth was that Dell could have a good time anywhere.
He was out of the surgical scrubs that so defined him at work, wearing a pair of jeans and a snug black T-shirt that made a woman want to drop at his knees and give him whatever he wanted.
But not her.
At least not in her waking hours. And what she fantasized about in the dark of the night was just that—fantasy.
He was smiling and would have looked younger than his thirty-two years—except for his eyes. His eyes said that he’d seen far more than his affable smile showed, and it had been those eyes to tell her eighteen months ago that she could work for him and be safe.