“No.”

She leaned over the table and he caught her scent. That scent drove him crazy. She drove him crazy.

“Johnny, come on. Please.”

It had to be a guy. He knew a few at their school who’d give their left nut to be with her. He definitely didn’t like the thought of her with another guy. Any guy. But she showed him absolutely no interest, and alienating her now didn’t get him any closer. At least this way, if he covered for her, they could remain friends. Important with them living together and all.

He stared into those brown eyes and realized he could deny her nothing, fool that he was.

“Nine o’clock. At the corner. You’re a minute late and you’re screwed.”

Kristan squealed and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you!”

Spoiled princess. He should hate her. She’d grown up loved and cared for with a Pack that adored her. But he didn’t hate her. If anything, he had it for her bad. But the way her father, Danny, watched him, that would never be happening unless Johnny decided living wasn’t one of his favorite things to do.

Resigned to a life of sexual frustration until he was old enough to go to college and get away from Kristan Putowsky, Johnny went back to his book and his burger.

Jess, already wearing the headset that went with her office phone, simply hit the answer button without even bothering to look away from the e-mail she was drafting on her computer.

“This is Jessica.”

“So you going to tell me what happened earlier or do I have to guess?”

Shocked, Jess stared at the phone display. “How the hell did you get my personal number?” It wasn’t listed and only the Pack had it. Even those in the building couldn’t contact her through this particular line, and it wasn’t billed under her own name. In fact, more people had her personal cell phone number than her private business line. That was the only reason she answered it at nine o’clock at night anyway.

“I can’t really answer that,” Smitty replied.

“Well, lose it. And stop calling me.”

“I can’t help you, Jessie Ann, until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Who asked for your help? I’m relatively certain I never asked for your help. And I never will.”

Besides, as irritated as she was from hearing that slow drawl and sweet-as-molasses voice on her private phone line, she still wouldn’t drag Smitty into this, whatever “this” was. The Smith credo was a simple one. Family first. Pack second. Everyone else dead last. If you were a blood relation to the Smiths, they’d come from all over the States to step in on your behalf. For that reason alone, the other shifters gave the Smiths a wide berth. Just one Smith was dangerous, but a whole swarm of them would be lethal.

For one Smith to goagainst that for an outsider would bring the wrath of Bubba Smith down on Smitty’s head. She couldn’t do that to him. He and his father had a difficult relationship. She wouldn’t add to it.

Jess rubbed her eyes. Wait. Why did she give a shit about Smitty’s relationship with his father? Had she lost her mind? She was getting sucked back in. Back into the insanity known as the Smith Pack.

“I appreciate you wanting to help,” she said, trying a different tack with him. “But there’s nothing I need help with. Everything is fine.”

The pause that followed was long, and for a moment she thought she’d lost the connection.

Until Smitty said, “You’re lying to me, Jessie Ann. And I’m gonna find out why.”

“And why is that? Because you clearly need a hobby—and a girlfriend?”

“No, because that’s what friends do for friends. We help each other out. And no matter what you think, we’re still friends.”

“What planet are you living on anyway?”

“I don’t know. But it’s nice. There are fire hydrants everywhere—and bunnies!”

Jess snorted, fighting hard to keep in her laugh. Damn him! He always could make her laugh. Like when he’d found her hiding in an air duct that time after the Friday homecoming bonfire. She’d planned on staying there the whole night until the liquor wore off with Sissy’s She-bitches. But he’d coaxed her out with jokes and the promise of one of those giant Hershey bars. Then he made sure she got home safe.

Years later and he was still trying to protect her. Except now she didn’t need it.

“I’ve gotta go, Bobby Ray.” She was glad he couldn’t see her face. Her smile would do nothing but prompt his continued efforts. “Don’t call me again. Don’t try and ‘help’ me. Just get on with your life—and be happy.”

When he didn’t say anything, Jess disconnected the call, glanced at her watch, and went right back to work.

Smitty walked back to the surveillance truck, Jessie’s last words to him playing again and again in his head.

His sister sat on the edge of the truck floor, her back against one of the open doors. They had a job this evening involving some foreign businessmen, but so far all had been calm. The perfect job, really. Low on danger, high on payment.

“Break time?” he asked.

Sissy sipped coffee and nibbled on coffeecake. “Yes, I’m not lazing off.”

“I just asked.”

“It was the way you asked.” Sissy watched him for a moment. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve got a weird look on your face.”