A little startled by his vehement tone, Story edged toward her apartment door. “Sorry to hear that. Let me know if I can do anything to help out.”

“Thank you,” he said finally, studying her long and hard enough to discomfort her.

Story gathered the groceries and slipped inside, feeling his eyes on her the entire time. Locking the dead bolt quickly behind her, it occurred to her that maybe New Yorkers avoid their neighbors for good reason.

…

From where he was parked across the street, Daniel watched Story disappear inside the apartment building. He’d caught sight of her approaching two blocks away, her blond hair standing out like a beacon against the gray backdrop of the city. His fingers curled into his palm. He desperately wanted to follow her into the building, finish what they’d started earlier, but he couldn’t.

Minutes later, the light flicked on in Jack’s apartment and Daniel relaxed. After being called to a convenience store holdup in Midtown that the Emergency Services Unit, himself included, had resolved in under an hour, he’d come straight back here to find Story gone. And despite the intensity of his disappointment, he knew now it was for the best. The time he’d spent waiting for her to return safely had given him ample time to think.

Being recruited at age eighteen by the department had given Daniel purpose, but becoming a hostage negotiator saved his life. And he had Jack to thank for that. For everything. Before learning the careful control and reasoning ability it took to solve a hostage crisis, his dark past had threatened to swallow him whole. Moving between foster homes his entire youth and turning eighteen without any sense of direction, Daniel had been cast adrift like so many orphans who’d grown up without the benefit of parental guidance.

He would never fully escape the memories of his time being passed around the five boroughs between overcrowded homes. And one painful memory in particular. Learning to negotiate had given him a sense of control. Helped him cope with the pain of those years.

In the space of one afternoon, he’d jeopardized the very glue holding him together. Not to mention his relationship with the man who’d seen fit to pass on his hard-won wisdom. Despite his indebtedness toward Jack, he’d wasted no time in coming on to Story like a prisoner receiving his first conjugal visit in a decade. If Jack knew, he’d cut him off fast enough to make his head spin. Where would that leave him?

Against his will, Daniel’s mind drifted back to Story. Had it been temporary insanity or could she possibly be half as sweet as his memory reflected? Despite her initial bravado, he could tell she’d been surprised by her response to his touch, and that honesty had shaken him, inflamed him, until he’d taken it further than intended. If his cell phone hadn’t rung at that precise moment, Daniel held no doubts that he would still be upstairs exploring the staggering attraction he felt for her. Thoroughly. Repeatedly.

An image of Story’s head thrown back as he drove into her made Daniel slam the steering wheel with his fist. Getting physical with her had been one hell of a mistake. Because now that he’d been given a taste, his craving for her was nearly unbearable.

After a childhood spent being told he’d never amount to anything, he’d learned to earn approval through sex. But somewhere along the line, he’d stopped gaining any pleasure from his conquests until they all blurred together into a whirlwind of female voices and faces. Sex without connection. Cheapening him, but giving him nothing in return.

Not so with Story. With her, he’d been present. In the moment. He hadn’t been dreading the inevitable aftereffects. There hadn’t been room in his head for anything besides her.

Until last night, another man had called her his fiancé. A man whom she possibly still loved and cared for. Daniel’s jaw flexed at the reminder. Just the thought of some bastard’s hands on her hindered his ability to think clearly. A reaction unlike him on so many levels. One, his profession dictated that he keep a level head at all times, never allowing his emotions to outweigh his ability to reason. A trait that normally carried over into his personal life.

Two, he’d never given a damn before who his conquests were with before or after him. It never entered his mind once they left his apartment to catch a cab.

Daniel recalled the flicker of uncertainty he’d glimpsed on Story’s face after he made her climax. Almost as if she’d been embarrassed by her body’s needs. She lacked the confidence that a woman of her beauty typically possessed when it came to men. Apparently on top of being a bastard, her ex-fiancé had been a shitty lover, something for which he couldn’t exactly muster any outrage.

It shouldn’t matter, moron. You can’t have her.

Jack knew exactly what Daniel was. He’d been right to warn him away from Story. Who would want a masochistic man-whore anywhere near their daughter? He’d somehow managed to earn an inkling of trust from Jack from their years of working together, and in under an hour, he’d betrayed that trust. Proving his sickness, he wanted to do it again.

It totally figured that the only woman to shatter his control would be the daughter of the man who’d taught him the importance of discipline and restraint in the first place. He almost laughed at the irony of it all. Almost.

He wanted her. So goddamn bad. To show her what her body was capable of. To extinguish any trace of insecurity foisted on her by her previous relationship. Maybe her ex-fiancé had held her heart, but Daniel knew he could own her body if given the chance. He would have the pleasure of teaching her how to satisfy him in return. Not that it would take much. Simply being in the same room as Story aroused him to an agonizing degree. The thought of her, naked and eager to please, robbed him of breath.

In the name of self-preservation, Daniel put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb into the flow of traffic. If he sat outside the building any longer, he would be pounding on her door and demanding she let him in. In more ways than one.

She’d go back to California in a week or so once Jack recovered, and everything would return to normal. Daniel could go back to meaningless sex with near-strangers and over time Story’s image would fade from his mind.

Even he didn’t believe his own bullshit.

Chapter Six

Story woke early the next morning from ten straight hours of dreamless sleep. After showering and throwing on a light summer dress, she walked out the door. With a quick stop at the corner deli to grab coffee and muffins for herself and Jack, she began the twelve-block walk to the hospital. Neighborhood residents raised their hands to hail the cabs flying down Second Avenue without even looking up from their cell phones or newspapers. Even at the early hour, July humidity already permeated the air. Today, however, a slight breeze rolled off the East River, drying her shower-dampened hair for her.

She strolled along the sidewalk to a soundtrack of beeping horns and passing buses, wondering if she would be staying in town long enough to get used to the constant noise.

Not if her mother had anything to say about it. Lynette had sent her three e-mails since last night, worried over her fragile mental state and oh-so-casually hinting at the usefulness of therapy. She wanted Story to come home where she could baby her and subject her to a round of holistic spa treatments. But for once, neither of those things sounded appealing. No, she needed to stand on her own two feet this time. Reflect on her mistakes without the comfort of being told that what happened with Fisher wasn’t her fault.