“What?” McKinley gasped. She knew that voice, that rich timbre with just a hint of teasing. Always teasing, forever flirting.

Renner Crossman.

Oh, no! What kind of twisted sense of humor did James suffer from? She didn’t want to see Renner. She only wanted to know that he was in the hotel.

McKinley tilted her head back, inching her line of vision up to Renner’s face. Just to be sure. A lot could change after ten years. Look at her. She was a prime example.

She heard his deep intake of breath. Shock? Yeah, well, she could relate.

“Kinny?”

Ten years faded into yesterday. Those espresso-colored eyes still gleamed with mischief. Or was it something else? Maybe he hadn’t changed that much.

His hands tightened around her arms, pulling her against him. She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest.

Renner.

His heart thumped a tune with hers. His breath whispered against her hair. And the scent of his aftershave was like a dear friend. She sighed.

What was it about him that latched on to her innermost dreams and desires and wouldn’t let go? His grin? His have-no-cares-in-the-world style against her organized, have-to-know-everything-beforehand outlook?

He looped his arms around her back and pressed his forehead to hers, just like he used to do. When he’d made her feel loved and cherished. Protected. Special.

A clamp tightened around her stomach, cut off air, and she almost tossed the cookies she’d scarfed down in place of dinner. Gag.

Special.

Yeah, right. More like used and abused. Thrown away with the trash.

She wasn’t safe in here, either. She braced her hands against his chest and jerked a step back, telling her brain to reject his familiar, comforting scent. She would take her chances in the hall.