Janie’s heart crashed against her ribcage as a large man walked out of her bedroom. Wide shoulders stacked with muscle reduced down to trim hips in a fit V. Formfitting jeans outlined powerful thighs. Everything about this guy said strength.

His deep-set eyes and thick eyebrows lent entrancing depth to his brown eyes. They faced her way, cloaked in shadow. A straight and narrow nose ended above lips that could form eight hundred million different smiles depending on his mood. The man could practically speak in smile. Because of it, effortlessly charming people was his superpower.

“Hey,” Dave said casually, sauntering out like he hadn’t been in her private space without an invite or a reason. “Where were you?”

She held up her phone. “I texted you. I wasn’t at Atticus’s house. Why were you in my room?”

“Looking for you. And I know. I went to his house first and threatened him. Where have you been?”

She wrinkled her nose as a random bubble of joy stole up her middle. It felt nice to have someone besides Madison look out for her. Worry about her. “You went to Atty’s house?”

“Ew. Don’t call him Atty.”

“You sound dumb ew.”

“Fine. Consider it stricken from my vocabulary.”

She laughed and closed the door behind her. She’d have to get her cargo eventually, but maybe she could sneak it in when he was in the bathroom or something. Worst-case scenario, she could get him blind drunk so he’d pass out, and then she’d sneak it in.

“You want a drink?” she asked as she crossed to the kitchen. She might as well prepare for Plan B, just in case.

“Where, Janie? I can always tell when you’re withholding something.”

That was another of his superpowers. One she hated, because she couldn’t get away with anything.

“You’ve been gone a week or so. Where to?” he persisted.

She let out an annoyed growl. “I can’t tell you. You and the Big Dick boys are like a sewing circle. You chatter to each other, and eventually it’ll get back to Madison. Which cannot happen.”

“Why?”

“Because she’ll be ashamed for me, and then I’ll feel bad for not feeling ashamed in the least. Which will make me ashamed…of not being ashamed.”

“Quit talking in circles, woman. You’re making my head hurt.” He scowled at her, and she could tell that he was somewhat serious. Which meant he’d keep at this until she cracked. She’d learned a thing or two about Dave these last months. He was overprotective at the best of times, and a protection crusader at the worst.

She put the few items she’d bought on the way home into the fridge. While he stared at her.

“You’re making things awkward,” she told him.

“You started it.”

She closed the fridge and crossed the living room, trying to skirt around his big frame. He stepped in her way. His strong fingers curled around her chin and tilted her face up. There was no misinterpreting the concern in his eyes. Or the compassion.

A strange gooiness formed in her middle. He was fun and funny and leaned toward alpha…except in these instances. Except when he was concerned about someone, and then his depth really showed through. She liked that about him.

She didn’t like his nosiness.

“Dude.” She patted his hard stomach. “There is no need to worry. I’m fine. I was in no danger.”

“Then why don’t you want Madison to know?”

“Because she’s prudish and would get the wrong idea.” She wrestled out of his grip. “I was just painting. Not a big deal.”

“Then why—”

She held up a hand. “Look, I’m not kidding. I can’t tell you, because you’ll tell your boys. Plain and simple. So you’ll just have to deal.”

“I’ve won awards for my secret keeping, I’ll have you know.”

“Is that right?”

Dave followed her to the doorway of her room. His big arms braced against the doorframe. “It is. In third grade, I even got a kiss for it.”

“Your first kiss, then?”

He huffed out a laugh. “My first kiss was in first grade, and I was convinced she’d given me a horrible case of the cooties.”

“As opposed to the horrible case of herpes you have now?”

“Oh no, those went away. I’m all set.”

She gaped at him, then broke down into a fit of laughter when she realized he was joking. “Right.”

“So where were you? A studio?”

She gave a sardonic laugh. Like she could afford a studio. She couldn’t even afford a place to live. Madison was under the impression Janie didn’t realize that the apartment was kept solely for her, but how could she not? Madison was never coming back. She was with Colton now. Janie had to start pulling her weight and let Madison cut the ties to this place.

Turning to him, she held up her pinky. “If I tell you, will you kindly fuck off?”

He held up his pinky as well. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll fuck right off.”

“And you won’t tell your friends?” she pushed.

“No, ma’am. My friends will remain in the dark, except I reserve the right to brag about finding you with my incredible detective skills.”

“Yeah, no one will believe I was in my apartment.” She sighed when he gave a hand gesture for her to continue. “You won’t judge me or look down on me in any way?”

A strange glint flared in his eyes. He tilted his head like he was trying to crack his neck. “No, I won’t judge you, but I can’t promise I won’t seek revenge or retribution if someone has wronged you.”

She laughed and flung her backpack, which had served as her suitcase, on the bed. “That’s sweet, kinda. More vigilante-style weird than sweet, but there is that hint of—”

“Janie, please,” he cut in, his voice deep and rough. “This suspense isn’t awesome.”

“Kind of like one of Ethan’s horrible surprises, huh? Where he surprises you with something totally unwelcome, hoping it’ll broaden your mind, but what it really does is make you want to punch him?”

“Yes. Exactly. Tell me.”

She sighed as she opened her backpack. “Fine. Look. It’s not a big deal, like I said. This guy I know flies me down to his estate in Arizona in his private jet, and I paint there for a week. That’s it.”

“He?”

“Yeah, he.” She pulled out her clothes and sorted through the dirty and clean stuff, glancing up through her eyelashes when her panties made an appearance. She hid them away.

“He flies you down…” Dave said each word as if he was mulling over its meaning. “In his private jet…to his house in Arizona…for a week…so you can paint there. Is this a romantic interest?”

She barked out a laugh. “Definitely not, no. I think he’s gay, to be honest. Though I’ve never asked.”

He moved inside the room, his movements graceful despite his size. He was probably excellent at sports. “So…a potentially gay man flies you down to his estate, at his expense?”

“Yep.”

“So you can paint. He is, in essence, paying for paintings—he just wants you on hand to do them?”

She groaned and threw her dirty clothes into the hamper. “He pays to watch me paint.”

He started to repeat her, trying to fit that piece into the overall puzzle, but they’d be here all day if she didn’t give him a nudge in the right direction.

So she just came out with it, judgment be damned. “In the nude.”

His mouth snapped shut and his eyes blazed. The muscles on his six-foot-two frame went taut.

She stared with wide eyes, wondering if that look was where he’d gotten the nickname used for him on the Big Dick website—Blaze. Because the danger, and fire, and intense manliness of him was as hot as hell, especially since she knew the sudden heat stemmed from a place of genuinely caring about her well-being.

“He pays me ten grand to do it,” she added. Because really, that was the most important part.

His chest rose with a deep breath and his eyes delved into hers. “And you are okay with all of this? This doesn’t bother you, or your lack of overall funds doesn’t force you to do…this?”

She tucked her backpack into the closet. “I’m okay with the nude thing. He doesn’t touch me or touch himself as he watches. I’ve never sensed a spark of lust, and he doesn’t make any advances or sexual remarks. So as far as that goes, whatever. I’m not ashamed to show my body. Plus, as I said, I really think he’s gay.”

“But?” he asked, not having moved or relaxed. His eyes still danced with wildfire.

Heat licked her core in response. Which was a reaction she hadn’t been expecting.

She fanned her face. “You need to simmer down.”

“Afraid I can’t at the moment. But?”

“But…he is creepy as all hell. Not sexual creepy, but just…creepy. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s not the real issue, is it?”

It was seriously the worst superpower, this ability to read her.

“Fine.” She put the clothes she hadn’t worn away. “No, it’s not. I hate painting in front of people. Any people. When I paint, I don’t notice if I am clothed or not. I don’t notice my surroundings. I am lost in my world. It is strangely vulnerable, and I hate people seeing it. I also hate them seeing the finished product. I’m confident in most things, but that isn’t one of them. Okay? Happy?”

He finally shifted and his shoulders dropped. “So even if you were clothed, you’d still be uncomfortable?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re willing to ignore that for ten grand?”

She turned toward him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Obviously I am. Here, I’ll give you a rundown of my life.” She sighed in unease. She hated admitting all this out loud, but there was no way he was going to leave her alone unless she gave him more to chew on. “My brain turns words around on me. Sometimes they just don’t make sense. Reading is hard, and even simple math problems are tough. I also have a problem understanding quick instructions. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad case of dyslexia. Add in my ADD, and my overall…flightiness, I guess you would call it, and I’m not a contender for long-term jobs. The crappy jobs I’ve had usually involve taking money. Which gets problematic when I mix up the numbers. I’ve been trying to get into some art galleries, but no one is interested. I probably need to get representation, which won’t be fun. Madison isn’t coming back. She’ll marry Colton, I can tell. She’ll do anything for that guy. So I can’t keep pretending I’m doing her a favor by watching her place. I need to start paying rent. Long story short, I need money. Now I have some to tide me over until I can hopefully find a roommate and sell a painting or two.”

“How often do you do this?”

“I’ve turned down a couple of his invitations, but this was my fourth time, I think. Since I was twenty-one.”

“Huh.” He shifted, a small crease forming on his brow. “And then he keeps the work, I assume.”

“Wow. You are really worried about the details of this transaction. No, he doesn’t keep the work, save one painting. I always paint a male nude for him to keep.”

“A… Wait.” He braced his hands on his hips and cocked his head, that forehead crease turning into a furrow. “I can’t wrap my head around all this. So…he flies you out. Has you paint in the nude. Pays you ten grand. And only wants a painting of a naked guy in return?”

More laughter bubbled up through her middle. “Well, when you break it down like that…yeah. It’s weird. Do you know why?”

“I’m doing a piss-poor job of figuring that out, actually.”

“Because he’s super creepy, that’s why. I told you, it’s hard to explain his weirdness.”

Dave shook his head. “I don’t like that you are forced to paint in the nude, to be honest.”

“I don’t care?”

A grin lit his features. “It’s like you are prostituting yourself.”

“Well, you would know, whore.”

The grin turned into one of those million-dollar smiles before he broke down into laughter. “There is that, yeah. Hard to throw stones when I whore it up all over town. I went to San Francisco last month for an especially big gig for a woman in a loveless marriage with a billionaire. She paid me a ridiculous amount of money to sleep with her. Like…that’s gross. But I’d wear glitter if they paid me to. Glitter, Janie. Clearly that is way worse than your thing.”

She nodded solemnly. “Glitter would definitely be way worse, yes. That stuff gets everywhere. In your cracks, in your hair…”

“Right. Exactly. Nailed it.”

She leveled him with a look. “Do not tell anyone. Madison would try to shower me in money if she found out. I don’t want that. She already does enough for me.”

“I get it. Your Creepy Rich Guy secret is safe with me.” She headed back toward the kitchen, and he followed. “Question: those nudes. Who are they?”

“Just random guys with their dicks hanging out.”

“Uh huh. Just…random guys?”

“Not you, Mr. Ego.”

A knock sounded at the door as she crossed the living room. She paused with her hands out, like she’d been caught in the middle of a burglary.

She remembered what he’d said earlier. “What did you do to Atticus?” she asked as she crossed to the door. “And this wouldn’t be him, right?”

“I threatened him, manhandled him, and stalked through his house. I gave his throat a shake, too. I doubt that’s him. But if it is, I’ll take care of it.”

She shook her head and smiled, not at all worried about his low and rough tone. She was certain that, unlike Atticus, Dave’s violence would never be directed at her.

She swung open the door and her expression fell. Oh shit.