Jimmy was giggling, Maria was grinning, and Crescent’s eyes were watering. She had just decided to drop her clothes and kick Jimmy in the ’nads when Jimmy was flying away from her—literally flying. He sailed through the air and crumpled to the street a good ten feet away.

She had a glimpse of big hands cupping the curve of Maria’s skull, and Nick’s, and then there was a klonk as their heads banged together. It sounded awfully like the time she dropped a cantaloupe on the floor.

And then Drake was towering over her, scowling, as usual.

“Have I mentioned,” she said, gaping up at him, “that for a blind guy, you get around pretty good?”

“Once or twice.” He pushed her crossed arms down, carefully raised her T-shirt, then eased her bra cup down so he could examine her nipple. This was startling, and quite nice. She reminded herself that he was a doctor, and hers was probably one of about six thousand nipples he saw in a year.

“It’s pretty red,” he said after a long moment. He was leaning so close, she could feel his breath on the swollen peak, and she shifted her weight again. Suddenly her shorts felt too tight, in a pleasantly irritating way. “But I don’t think it’ll bruise.”

“How—” Her mouth was suddenly very dry, and she coughed. “How do you know it’s red?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he smoothed her hair away from her eyes. “If you steal out of my house in the middle of the night again,” he said, quite pleasantly, “I’ll beat you.”

“No you won’t.”

He sighed. “No. I won’t.”

“Drake, seriously. Why d’you care?”

He sighed again. “I care.” Then he pulled her up on her tiptoes and kissed her with bruising strength.

She dropped her clothes. Fuck it.

Kissing Drake—well, being kissed by Drake—was an entirely novel experience. For one thing, the man didn’t have an ounce of flab anywhere. For another, she had the distinct impression he could snap her spine like kindling. But this thought was as exciting as it was slightly scary.

He pulled away, and she stumbled forward. “Oh, no, don’t stop,” she gasped. “Kiss me some more—I’m not dizzy enough.”

“I can’t,” he said, and she was delighted to see his breaths, too, were coming hard. “I don’t want to take you in the alley like a—come on.”

He grabbed her hand, hauled her out of the alley until they were under the streetlights, and flagged a cab. He practically threw her inside, then slammed the door and tersely told the driver his address.

“My clothes,” she said, staring out the back window. “And after all the stupid trouble I went to…”

“I’ll buy you a Gap store,” he replied and didn’t let go of her hand until the cab pulled into his driveway.