Chapter Four

“And it ain’t the first thing you notice about him, is it?”

Selena looked puzzled at that, then considered. “Actually… you’re right. It took me a few minutes to see it.”

“Well, the man doesn’t let it slow him down.” Griff rolled his shoulders back, stretching out the muscles. “I think he forgets about it half the time.”

She nodded, took a deep breath. “Excuse me for a minute?”

“Yeah.”

She got to her feet and headed down the hall, looking for the bathroom. Once inside, she looked around in shock: it was surprisingly bright and clean for a dive-bar that catered to ex-cons, bikers and prostitutes. Quietly, she checked under the stalls for feet before walking over to the mirror above the sinks.

Selena stared at her face, took in the exhaustion and strain. Her dark eyes had shadows under them, her normally healthy rosy-golden glow was dimmed, her skin gray and distressed. Her medium-length, wavy, dark hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail, as it always was when she was on duty, and even it looked droopy and limp.

With a sound of frustration, she reached up and yanked her hair loose. It tumbled to her strong shoulders in her neat little blouse and tailored jacket. She held the clip between her teeth as she finger-combed her hair and started to pull it up again.

Out of nowhere and for no reason at all that she could possibly understand, Luke’s face came to mind. It wasn’t a classically handsome face, she thought, but that didn’t make it one iota less attractive. Luke’s face was rugged and rough… like his hands.

Hand.

She looked at herself, wondered what expression would be on Luke’s face if he saw her with her hair down. Would he give her the same slow, heated once-over that she’d pointedly ignored when she’d first walked into Curves? Or would it be the bright, intense look that he'd given her when he'd offered to buy her breakfast? Or – and this is the one that I really want to see again – would it be the soft, tender look that he'd worn when he'd called her ‘babe’ and told her that it was OK?

Stop it, Selena. Stop it right the hell now. A guy as hot as him doesn’t want anything to do with a woman like you.

Despite her best efforts to not look, her eyes dropped to the front of her blouse now. To her breasts that weren’t actually breasts. To what were silicone gel breast forms tucked into a special mastectomy bra that cost a small fortune. Yeah, the breast forms were awesome-looking, no doubt about that. Totally natural and perfect for her body and frame. They looked exactly like her real breasts – so much so that sometimes she forgot. Just for a second.

But then she always remembered… remembered her decision to undergo a voluntary double mastectomy to save her life. Selena didn’t regret that choice, would never regret it, but she mourned the loss of her breasts, dreaded getting undressed every night, avoided mirrors when she was unclothed. And most of all, she hated the vivid purple-red scars that she now had to carry for the rest of her life. As she imagined Luke’s face at the sight of them, she bit her lip: that heart stopping face would be twisted in disgust, she was sure. Nothing sexy about a woman who looked like her.

Yeah, sure, Luke was missing a hand, and so he knew all about looking at and living in a body with pieces missing. A body that didn’t feel or look or work or even move the way that it had for years and years; a body that didn’t fit anymore. A stranger’s body, in some ways.

She thought that maybe Luke would understand her in some ways that mattered, but not in all of them, and not in the way that mattered the most. In Selena’s mind, losing her breasts felt so – ugly. That loss was a knock-down blow to how attractive and desirable she felt; it was a direct hit to her femininity and her sexiness. The thought of being naked with a man was, quite literally, unimaginable.

She hadn’t told anybody about her surgery. Not her father or brothers back in L.A., not her friends, certainly not her co-workers. She hadn’t told the guys at Solid Security because she thought that they’d treat her differently, and she wasn’t about to fucking stand for that. She hadn’t told her friends because they were all new Moms who were totally overwhelmed by screaming babies at 3 a.m. and cracked nipples and going on panicked emergency diaper runs.

And her family? Well, she hadn’t told them because she knew that any mention of it would hurt them deeply. It would call to mind old wounds, barely scarred over and definitely not anything even close to healed. It would call up losses, losses that were still keenly, painfully felt. Selena wasn’t about to shatter them like that. She was tough, and she was going to handle it all just fine. On her own.

With a huff of disgust at her momentary flight of fancy about a hot man, she pulled her hair back into a tight, uncompromising ponytail. Who cared what Luke might think if he saw her with it down in dark waves around her golden skin? Who cared about Luke and his sexy-as-hell forearms?

Not me. That’s for damn sure.