NYC Angels Flirting with Danger - By Tina Beckett Page 0,1

head. Yeah. She knew exactly what they’d think she was with plastered hair, thigh-high coat, and no shoes. No respectable hotel would let her through the doors.

And the unrespectable ones …

That was no better solution than the first option. Her eyes went to the tangled colors on the map posted above the doors of the subway train.

As much as she hated the idea, her thoughts circled back to the one person she knew in New York: Brad Davis. She knew where he worked—the Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital—but she had no idea what part of town that was in, or where her brother’s old friend lived. Or even what subway line she should be on right now. She knew how to find Brad, though. Social media was good for at least one thing.

Bracing her feet against the sway of the train and digging out her smartphone, she took a deep breath and pulled up her friends list.

Brad paced the living room of his high-rise apartment, half irritated, half intrigued. It was Friday night, and he’d just sent his date home with a smiled apology and a smoothly worded explanation about family coming into town unexpectedly.

Which wasn’t a total lie. Chloe was practically family. In fact, he’d spent more of his teenage years at Chloe and Jason’s house than he had at his own. And despite being known more for his biker jacket, spiked wrist cuff and well-practiced sneer than for his social graces, his best friend’s folks had made it clear he was welcome any time. Had made sure he’d known they cared about him, even as he’d wondered if his own parents knew he existed.

And Chloe …

His mind sifted through images of the past, each overlapping the other until it formed a collage of memories, full of pink cheeks and adolescent banter.

No one had been more shocked than he, six years ago, to learn she was getting married, or to arrive at the wedding and realize what a gorgeous young woman she’d grown up to be. Asking her to dance had been the ultimate mistake. As they’d taken one quick spin around the dance floor, the hem of her lacy white gown swishing in time with their slow movements, he’d suddenly realized she was no longer the gawky kid who had tagged along after him and her brother. The glint of a hairpin imprisoning a long graceful curl had made his palms itch. What would happen if he reached up and …

His arms had instinctively tightened to resist the temptation, the act pulling her fully against him. His body had reacted, his pulse rate climbing dangerously. A soft gasp had left her throat, and the fingers that had been politely resting on his shoulder curled into the fabric of his suit jacket.

He’d looked down just as her eyes came up. Raw awareness had shimmered between them, and her teeth had sunk deep into her bottom lip—the lip he hadn’t been able to stop staring at. The world around him had faded away, and the self-destructive tendencies he’d thought long gone had swooped down, nearly consuming him.

As if recognizing danger, Chloe’s husband had suddenly appeared beside them, his hand outstretched, a warning frown between his brows. He’d spirited her away, a mysterious ethereal creature with huge blue eyes and slender curves. The memory of her body pressed to his had stayed with him long into the night.

Nope. No thinking about curves, racing pulses or anything else. She was his best friend’s sister. Sweet. Innocent.

Married.

Nothing like the women he dated—sophisticated women who knew exactly what the words “no strings” meant and would play by his set of rules. Women who were the opposite of Chloe Jenkins.

So what was she doing, wandering the streets of New York at midnight? By herself? She’d said there’d been a hitch in her hotel reservations. Why not just choose another place, then? Or drive home to Connecticut, if it came down to it?

He’d only seen her once since her wedding day, and she’d never attempted to contact him. Until tonight.

He should have said no. Should have reminded himself of that crazy dance and told her to steer clear of him—or told her he had company, with just enough emphasis to let her know exactly what that meant.

But there’d been something about her voice on the phone. A shaky uncertainty, as if she’d expected him to flat-out refuse to let her come up—something he would never do to Chloe, even if Jason weren’t his best friend. Even if