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shifted against the bathroom floor. His butt slid over the wet porcelain tiles, producing a squeaking noise.

      The chuckle turned into a loud, echoing laugh. “Jeez, Cody...”

      He recognized that voice, and heat rushed to his face.

      “Owen, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked. The last thing he remembered was stepping into the shower. How had he wound up on the floor? The only images that flashed through his mind were of Serena, in a thin robe.

      Her nipples had pushed against the silky fabric, and then the robe had parted, revealing honey-toned curves...

      Was that just a dream, like all the others he’d had about her since they’d first met months ago? But her skin and lips had felt so real.

      It was almost as if he could taste her still, the sweetness of her mouth.

      A light flashed in his eyes—just a small beam, but it felt like it was shining through his pupil and piercing his brain. “Damn it! Damn it!” He batted at the flashlight. “Shut it off!”

      “I am trying to check you out,” Owen said.

      Since Cody was sprawled naked across the bathroom floor, it shouldn’t have been too difficult. At least he wasn’t hard anymore—not now that he’d realized it was Owen leaning over him and not Serena.

      Where was Serena? He peered around the white-and-blue bathroom, but he and Owen were alone. Had she ever been in there?

      “Who called you?”

      Had Stanley found him? That poor kid.

      “Your landlady,” Owen said. “You kept murmuring her name.”

      “Serena found me?” he asked. So he hadn’t imagined it. She had been there while he was naked. “And she called you?” She knew Wyatt because she was friends with Fiona. But Owen?

      “She called 911,” Owen replied. “Remember, I’m a paramedic, too?”

      “Yeah, yeah, I know that,” Cody said. Fortunately Dawson wasn’t working with him tonight; the assistant superintendent was too busy helping Zimmer try to catch the arsonist to go out on medical calls.

      Hell, maybe Dawson was in the room too, for all Cody knew. His eyesight was fuzzy, making it hard for him to focus visually and mentally. Owen was still leaning over him with that damn light. The guy was so big—broad-shouldered and tall—he could have been blocking Dawson from Cody’s blurry vision.

      “What the hell happened?” he asked.

      “Don’t you remember?” Owen asked, and there was concern in his deep voice and blue eyes. He was older than Cody—not just in years but experience. Cody couldn’t imagine what Owen had seen overseas, but the guy had come back with scars—one was visible, running down the left side of his face. He suspected there were more.

      Cody shook his head and flinched as pain reverberated throughout his skull. His head was pounding so badly that he was surprised he could remember anything—even his own name. Well, the name the young couple had given him after they’d adopted Baby John Doe.

      The last thing he remembered was turning on the water to cold because of her.

      “You must have slipped and fallen,” Owen surmised.

      He fought through the pain to make a cocky reply. “You think?”

      “You don’t remember.”

      “No.” But then he recalled the porcelain had been so slippery. Why?

      “Where are your clothes?” Owen asked.

      “Clothes?” he repeated. He was still struggling to focus. Where had he left them?

      “Some of the nurses have probably already seen you naked, but you should still get dressed before I take you in,” Owen said.

      “In where?”

      “To the hospital,” his friend patiently replied.

      He was once again glad Serena hadn’t called Wyatt or Dawson. He doubted either of them would have been nearly as patient with Cody’s befuddled mind.

      “Why would I go to the hospital?” he asked as he tried to remember how he’d wound up on the bathroom floor. Had he fallen out of the tub?

      Serena wouldn’t have been strong enough to move him. It must have been Owen; the guy was huge. How long had Cody been unconscious?

      “You need to have a CT,” Owen said. “I think you have a concussion.”

      That would explain the headache and memory lapse. But what about his fantasies about Serena? He’d had those long before he’d ever hit his head. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t get the black-haired woman off his mind?

      * * *

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