Free Flashpoint by Jill Shalvis

could.”
    â€œUh-huh. Cristina’s waiting with open arms.”
    His expression was serious now. “She’s had it rough and is a little distrustful, that’s all. It has nothing to do with you.”
    She had a feeling it wasn’t only Cristina who’d had it rough. “You’re sleeping with her.”
    Brooke hadn’t meant for that to escape from her lips. She wanted to pretend it hadn’t, but Zach’s brows had shot up so far on his forehead they vanished into his hair.
    â€œNot that it matters,” she said quickly, trying like hell to backtrack. “Because it doesn’t.”
    â€œIt doesn’t?”
    She shook her head. “It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. It really, really, really doesn’t—”
    He set a finger on her lips and she shut up.
    â€œCristina and I are friends,” he said quietly. “We have been for a very long time.”
    She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and pulled it away. “And more than friends? Have you been more than friends for a very long time, as well?”
    â€œTwice. A very long time ago.”
    She didn’t want to acknowledge the relief that flooded through her at that. “You might want to remind her of that part the next time she’s going around marking her territory.”
    â€œShe has no territory to mark. Or I never would have kissed you like I did.” He ran a finger over her jaw.
    A simple touch.
    But there was nothing simple about the way her body reacted, starting with the breath backing up in her throat and her nipples tightening as they hoped for some attention, too. So much for not mixing business and pleasure, because there was pleasure when she was with him. Lots of it. “Oh boy.”
    His gaze met hers. “Oh boy bad, or oh boy good?”
    â€œWe’re friends.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œTh-that touch felt like…more.”
    â€œDid it?” He smiled innocently. “Then you’re the one mixing the business with the pleasure, aren’t you?”
    She stared at him, but he only smiled, touched her again, then walked off, leaving her to talk to herself. “Am not,” she whispered.
    But she was.
    She so was.
    Â 
    T HE NEXT DAY , Brooke and Dustin hit the ground running and never slowed. They delivered a baby at a grocery store, transported a set of conjoined twins, stood by at a bank robbery and helped locate two fingers belonging to a construction worker, who’d lost them in a pile of sawdust thanks to the blade of his handsaw. It was early evening before they finally made their way back to the station, where a delicious smell had Brooke’s nose twitching.
    â€œOhmigod,” Dustin moaned. “Smell that?”
    â€œTell me it’s for us.”
    â€œIf there’s a God.”
    Following the scent into the kitchen, they found the crew grabbing plates and helping themselves to a huge pan of lasagna. Zach was already seated at the table, his uniform trousers and a gray T-shirt spread taut over that hard body.
    Brooke’s gaze locked on his. They hadn’t spoken since yesterday, where she’d done that whole mixing-business-with-pleasure thing, confusing their issues.
    Her issues.
    The memory of their kiss—that deep, hot long kiss—was still burned in her mind. In spite of herself, she wanted another one, and she had a feeling it was all over her face.
    â€œAh, man,” Aidan moaned loudly from the table, mouth full—which didn’t stop him from loading more in. “This lasagna is better than sex.”
    Cristina snorted. “Then you’re doing it wrong.” She took a bite, then also moaned. “But, oh yeah, baby, this is a close second. Nicely done, Officer Hottie.”
    Zach rolled his eyes. “Thanks. I think.”
    Brooke stared at him as she sat. “You cooked?”
    â€œWell, we tried letting Cristina cook,” Aidan said. “Remember,