“Trina?” Doug approached. “She’s finally sleeping. I’m going to ask that everyone leave her alone for a few hours.”

Gray removed a badge from his back pocket. “I’m Detective Gray, this is Detective Armstrong, we only have a few questions for Ms. Grant.”

“Those will have to wait.”

“We’ll be back later, then,” Armstrong said.

“I would suggest you call before returning. The neurologist has ordered a few tests . . .”

“We’ll wait.”

Doug stepped closer, lowered his voice. “How about tomorrow? Her family and friends visiting to tell her she’s loved is helpful. Questions about what put her here are traumatic at this stage.”

The detectives exchanged glances. “We’ll be back.”

Trina sighed her relief when they left. “Thank you, Doug.”

“Nothing I said wasn’t true.”

“I’ll step out for a while.”

He stopped her. “I heard Wade Thomas was with all of you.”

“He is.”

Doug tilted his head. “I’m a huge fan.”

“I’ll be sure and drag him back the next time Avery wakes up to say hello.”

“Really? That would be epic.”

If Wade’s name could keep the police away until Avery was alert, Trina would use it.

Chapter Twenty-One

“White on rice,” Wade said as if he was in the middle of a conversation instead of walking Trina outside the hospital doors and onto the wet streets of Manhattan.

“Excuse me?”

He draped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her close to his side. “I’ve never played bodyguard before. I think I’m going to like it.” He’d heard Reed bring Trina up to date on the lack of fingerprints found in the office. She seemed less concerned with that than everyone else involved.

“What does role-playing a bodyguard have to do with rice?”

He chuckled and leaned close to her ear. “Your bulky friends said I needed to be white on rice with you. I like potatoes more than rice, but I’ll give it a shot,” he teased.

They walked toward the hotel.

Trina stiffened and slowed her pace. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this. Please don’t feel obligated to—”

“Oh, no . . . don’t start that. I don’t feel obligated, nor do I have some kind of hero complex that you’re scratching. I might not prefer how we are spending time together, but I thoroughly enjoy the company and wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

“You have a love for hospital waiting rooms?”

A crowd of people huddled around them as they waited for traffic to clear to cross the street.

“I have a deep regard for right over wrong and being a friend in more than a Christmas card fashion.”

They joined the masses and jaywalked to the other side of the street.

“If you need to get home, I completely understand.”

He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a dam for the people rushing by. Wade pulled her to the side of a building and stood in front of her.

“Okay, darlin’. I’m going to say this once.” He placed both hands on the sides of her face and stared her in the eye.

She opened her mouth, and he brought one finger over her lips to stop her. “Nobody needs me at home more than you need me here. I’m taking the charge of white on rice and I don’t plan on leaving until the police find out what’s going on. If they don’t, then I’ll just have to follow you back to Texas, where it appears you belong. So no more guilt about keeping me here or dragging me into anything. Got it?”

Trina tried to smile. “You’re pretty demanding,” she said quietly.

“Oh, darlin’, I’m one hundred percent demanding, which is probably why I’m still single. I’m also determined to get that half-empty look out of your eyes and replace it with sparkling lights.”

There her smile was. Seeing it warmed his heart.

“Now we’re talkin’.”

“Are you always this charming?”

He shook his head. “No. I saved it for you.”

Trina snickered. “That’s a line,” she called him out.

“Guilty. But this time I mean it.”

She narrowed her eyes.

He brushed his thumb over her jaw and gave in to the desire to kiss her.

The more often he brushed his lips against hers, the more he wanted to make her his next addiction. Even the busy streets of New York City couldn’t keep his heartbeat out of his head as he tasted her.

When she opened her lips, he ended their public display and promised to deepen that kiss as soon as they were alone.

“Hey, Wade!”

The sound of someone calling him from several feet away, followed by a flash of lights, ruined the disco ball spinning in his head.

Sure enough, the paparazzi had found him. Instead of causing a scene, Wade pulled Trina alongside him and started toward the hotel.

“Who’s your friend?” The flash of a camera followed the stranger’s question.

People started turning to watch.

The man backed into people as he moved in front of them to get the image he wanted.

New Yorkers weren’t all that friendly when being plowed into by a distracted pedestrian.

Wade tried moving around the man. “We’re in a hurry. If you don’t mind.”

“Just one smile,” he asked, the camera up to his eye.

Wade didn’t oblige. Instead he pushed around the man, careful not to touch him, and doubled his pace to get away.

Trina kept up as if she’d done the paparazzi dance before.

When they approached the hotel, the man at the door sensed their plight, opened the door, and then cut off Mr. Camera Happy.

Wade took a deep breath when the elevator doors closed.

Trina twisted to stand in front of him, placed her hands on his chest, and pushed him against the wall. Without words, she pressed her body against his and demanded his lips.

It took him two seconds to catch on before his eyes closed and his body gave in to hers. Her lips were open, hungry, and not like any kiss he’d had from her before. He hardened in an instant.

The elevator dinged loud enough for Wade to put a tiny distance between the two of them when the doors opened.

A couple with a teenage son stepped onto the elevator, eyeing them. It had to be obvious what they’d interrupted. It was to Wade, in any event. Trina diverted her gaze from the other couple, her chest heaving as she sucked in silent breaths.

The kid watched them as the elevator made its way up. The parents looked away in silence.

Trina licked her lips.

Wade felt the need to wipe his.

The door opened on the floor of the hotel’s view restaurant and let the family out.

It was Wade’s turn to twist Trina into the wall of the elevator.

Her hands were in his hair, her body molded to his, their lips fused together.

This time, when the elevator announced an arrival to a floor, Wade glanced up to see the penthouse suites level. Instead of breaking her off, he lifted her up and encouraged her legs to wrap around his waist.

He felt her purse slip from her shoulder and catch on her arm as he walked her to the door of their room. Trina’s teeth caught on his neck like a vampire searching for fuel. He pressed her against the door, probably too hard, but she didn’t stop.

Wade found his wallet and slid the electronic key from behind his credit card. It took two swipes for the door to unlock. Once behind the private door, he dropped his wallet, she dropped her purse, and he filled his palms with her ass as he carried her to the bedroom.

His mind focused briefly, wanting to ask if she was sure of this moment, but her teeth grazed against the lobe of his ear as she moaned.

The bed caught his knees. Wade controlled his fall on top of her as the bed cradled her back. The stability offered Trina the ability to push her hips into his. God help him, he saw bright sparks of pixie dust at the thought of sliding into her. The warmth inside his belly reminded him of his teenage years and the inability to control his body.

Ice.

Cold.

Aunt Mavis.

Jesus, he needed to get this together.

He sucked in a breath and slowed everything down.

Trina sighed with him; her fingernails ran up his back and tugged at his shirt.

Wade captured her lips and tasted the mint of her morning toothpaste before he let them go. She lifted her chin, and he kissed her neck until her shirt stopped him.

The smooth texture of her waist was warm against his palm as he inched higher. He was about to ask if she wanted this when she leaned forward and helped him remove her shirt.

She wore a plain white bra, her olive skin a stunning contrast he could sample forever.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “I wasn’t planning . . .”

He kissed the top of one breast, silencing her protest; his thumb traced the edges of her bra.

“Oh, God.”

Her head fell back.

He was kissing her, caressing her, and already she was lost . . . he felt like the God she was calling out to and wanted desperately to deliver everything she needed . . . wanted.

Wade pushed her nipple from her bra and pulled it between his teeth until the hardness resembled a large nut.

“Wade,” she called and her hips jolted.

Ice.

Winter.

Texas was hot in the winter.