CHAPTER THREE

      PAIGE HEADED FOR SID’S, telling herself that she was giving Dr. Bad Attitude exactly what he wanted—space. But the truth was she’d been grateful for the excuse to escape.

      It was unnerving to have a man in her living space—especially one who made her want to growl and sigh at the same time. Who made her tingle in places that hadn’t tingled in far too long one minute, and stifle the urge to throw something at him the next.

      She didn’t like it. Not one little bit. She’d learned early on that guys like him weren’t attracted to women like her. She was the eternal “cute girl” they treated like a little sister.

      Wanting something—or someone—she couldn’t have reminded her too much of a past she’d thought she’d long outgrown.

      She’d had everything until her mother had died. She lost both parents that day, her mother to ovarian cancer and her father to grief. He’d retreated into his work, leaving a devastated pre-teen to cope with her grief alone because her brothers were much older and didn’t do girly things like talk about their feelings.

      As if grieving for the loss of the most important person in all their lives was somehow unmanly.

      She’d tried and failed to keep the family together, as she’d promised her mom. One by one her brothers had left, Bryn, the oldest, to accept a position as assistant manager of a football team in San Diego, Eric for the SEALs program, and Quinn to the US Air Force, where he flew classified aircraft on top-secret missions.

      Then her father had unexpectedly remarried and it had been like losing everything all over again. Her brothers had rarely visited and she’d suddenly felt like an unwanted reminder of her father’s pain.

      To be honest, he hadn’t known what to do with her and he’d probably thought a new mother and step-siblings would help her cope with grief. But they hadn’t, and instead she’d retreated into her school work.

      In her senior year salvation had come in the form of a full bursary to med school and everyone had seemed to heave a huge sigh of relief. With Paige gone there had been no need for her father to feel guilty every time he saw her.

      She’d thought that by acing her exams she would get his approval, but despite finishing her degree early and at the top of her class, her father hadn’t even attended her graduation. Instead, he’d sent a gift and a note with his apologies that the family would be in Aruba.

      Dammit, she’d always wanted to go to Aruba.

      At least her three brothers had made it—Eric in fatigues on his way home from a mission and Quinn in full US Air Force uniform. They’d made her laugh with their antics and she’d scarcely felt her father’s absence.

      Fine. She’d been devastated but she’d finally acknowledged that she was on her own. Her brothers had their own busy lives and their father...well, she could totally take care of herself.

      Besides, it was safer not to let people close. It hurt too much when they left.

      * * *

      Francis Abigail Bryce was already in their booth, looking like a movie star in her dark blue paramedic jumpsuit. She’d ordered coffee and was sitting there with a faraway expression on her face. And because she looked just a little bit sad, Paige said the first thing that came to her mind as she slid into the booth opposite her.

      “You do know that redheads are supposed to have freckles, don’t you?”

      “And did you know that people who’ve beaten up late-night intruders with their awesome ninja skills aren’t supposed to look so fresh and perky the next day?” Frankie answered smartly, eyeing Paige with sharp green eyes. “Why do you?”

      Paige grimaced. “You heard, huh?”

      “That’s like saying have I heard the coastguard is in town,” Frankie snorted, and slid a latte across the table. “I was on duty last night when your call came through. If I hadn’t had an emergency I would have helped you bury the body.”

      Paige grinned and lifted her latte in a toast. “You’re the best friend ever. But...” She paused to take a huge gulp, sighing in pleasure when the hot creamy liquid hit her stomach. “As it turned out, he wasn’t dead, just concussed. But breakfast first, I’m starving,” she said as the waitress approached.

      Once the waitress left with their order, Frankie demanded a minute-by-minute account of her midnight adventure, laughing when Paige recounted Ty calling her a bossy little smartass and a faerie commando, and snorting indelicately at his manly reaction to pink tape.

      “Men are idiots,” Frankie said dryly, “including Ty Reese, so don’t go getting any idiotic ideas about saving him.”

      Paige rolled her eyes and waited as the waitress delivered their food. Tyler Reese needed saving about as much as a prowling mountain lion. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious about him.

      Trying for casually offhand, she said, “So...you do know him?”

      “Hmm,” Frankie murmured, looking amused.

      “And?” Paige prompted a little impatiently, when her friend took another bite of omelet without replying. “Spill already before I hurt you.”

      Frankie nearly choked. “Like you could,” she snorted, wiping her mouth with the napkin Paige shoved at her. “Ty’s right. With those huge exotic eyes and delicate face, you do look like a faerie. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d hate you.”

      Paige snorted, “Yeah, right,” because Frankie was one of those exotically beautiful redheads. Smooth creamy skin, thick lustrous hair and...and darn...she looked a million dollars in a swimsuit.

      “So...what do you know about him?”

      Frankie studied Paige for a moment. “You mean other than he has a thing for stacked blonde Malibu beach babes?”

      “Yeah.” Paige sighed, wondering at the rush of intense disappointment at the news. It was a ridiculous reaction to have about a guy who’d broken into her house and scared the heck out of her. Besides, guys like Tyler Reese had genetically built-in radar for beautiful blondes—or redheads—and having grown up with three brothers who’d dated endless lines of stacked blonde bombshells, it was something she thought she’d accepted.

      “Other than that. Which is hardly breaking news, by the way. Guys always go for the hot blondes.”

      Frankie sighed and said again, “Men are idiots,” and looked miserable, but after a couple of beats she seemed to shake off her strange mood. “He’s not for you.”

      That brought Paige up short. Her breakfast abruptly turned to lead in her stomach. “Not that I’m interested or anything,” she said shoving her plate aside, “but what’s wrong with me?”

      “It’s not you, it’s him.” Frankie broke off and studied Paige silently before saying, “Okay, maybe it is you.”

      Paige didn’t know why the idea that Frankie thought she wasn’t good enough for Tyler Reese hurt so much. She should be used to being ignored, not pretty, sexy or popular enough, but the truth was, it would be nice to be a kick-ass girl they drooled over. Like Frankie—movie-star beautiful and built like an underwear model, only with attitude.

      A