Kaitlin swallowed the last bite of her bagel and stared at the coffee mug in her hand through gritty eyes before letting out another, long yawn.

Nine AM and she still hadn't gotten her first wind yet. She had a long-ass day of landscape planning to do and it was going to be brutal unless she managed to wake the hell up.

The sound of chipper whistling sailed through the open kitchen window along with the warm breeze. Instead of cheering her, though, the sound made her want to spit nails.

She set the mug down on the granite island hard enough to send the liquid sloshing over the sides and pushed herself off the stool she'd been sitting on.

Enough was enough. She'd kept her lip zipped last Sunday—her only day to sleep in—when he'd decided six AM was the perfect time to mow his grandmother’s lawn. And she hadn't made a peep when he'd kept her up until two AM the week before with what sounded like a frat party over there. But pulling into the driveway on his Harley at three this morning without a single care for people like her who didn't have the luxury of working whenever they felt like the height of selfishness.

If she bit her tongue any harder, she'd chew it clean through.

She stalked toward the door, both barrels locked and loaded. When she’d agreed to house sit for her mother while she took a trip abroad for the holidays, Kaitlin had never imagined she’d wind up living next door to the Blade brothers again. It had been good and bad. Great to see Rick and catch up, and she was excited to work on her grandmother’s home to bring the property back to its former glory, but Michael Blade had finally worked her last nerve. As much as she'd rather spend the rest of the holiday season avoiding him at all costs, she’d had it.

She threw the door open and made her way across the lawn, rounding a fat evergreen wrapped in cheery Christmas lights to find the man in question sitting on his front porch leafing through a pile of mail, still whistling.

The anger that had been bubbling beneath the surface like a witch's brew turned to shock as she took stock of the man before her.

He was dressed in a pair of worn, faded jeans slung low around his lean hips.

And nothing else.

Christ on a cracker, who walked around like that, in December, no less? Granted, it was Southern California and the weather had been unseasonably warm at that, but still...

Her cheeks flamed as she tried to tear her eyes away, to no avail. His body was ridiculous. Wide shoulders, tanned from the sun. Stomach, flat and muscled, even when he was sitting. And those arms, covered in ink and with biceps that didn't even need flexing to show off their good side.

As if suddenly aware of her presence, he stopped his whistling, looked up and locked gazes with her. The words she'd been muttering to herself on the short walk over died on her lips.

Lord, he was handsome. Take a girl’s breath away kind of handsome. His hair was freshly washed, an inky, tousled mess. His face was at once stark and sensual. His cheekbones, two slashes of marble, his jaw square enough to measure by, but a mouth that managed to look both firm and commanding and quick to smile.

His dark, soulful eyes seemed like they could see right through her and sent a sizzle of feminine awareness through her, which only served to irritate her even more.

Obviously, those feelings had nothing to do with him. She didn’t even like him. Her brain was just confusing her attraction to Rick with Michael. Which made sense, since they were nearly identical, besides the ink.

Oh, and except for the fact that Rick was sweet and kind and smart and funny. Unlike Michael, who was currently smirking at her, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Good morning, Kitty. What can I do for you?"

The childhood nickname sent another blast of annoyance through her and she gave him a chilly glare, refusing to remind him for the fifth time in the past few weeks that no one called her that anymore.

"Is that a rhetorical question, or do you really want to know?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

He cocked his head, seeming to consider the question, before giving it a quick shake.

"Nope. You're right. I actually don't want to know." He rolled to his feet and stuffed the mail he'd been holding into his back pocket and gave her a half-hearted salute of dismissal. "Happy Friday."

Arrogant prick.

He'd turned to go, giving her an unimpeded view of his muscled back and making it up two of the porch steps before she found her voice again.

"It might be a happy Friday if you hadn't woken me up at three in the morning with that god-awful monster of a bike. I couldn't fall back to sleep and have been up ever since. Maybe you can try to get home a little earlier during the week when people have to work the next day."

She knew she sounded like a priggish shrew, but somehow he seemed to excel at bringing out that side of her.

He turned, leaning his ass on the porch railing and gazing down at her, a smile tugging at his firm lips.

"So, just to clarify, you--my next door neighbor, for those keeping score--are suggesting that you give me a curfew. Have I got that right?"

"Well, no. I mean, not a curfew..." Kaitlin gnawed at her lower lip for a long moment before continuing. "Don't turn this around on me, Mike," she retorted. “Ever since you started staying here, it’s been nothing but problems for me.”

"This is my grandmother’s house and I need to get it ready to sell, which is easier to do if I don’t have to drive back home half an hour away every night. That said, I'm a grown-ass man, Kitty. I come and go as I please, and no one is going to stop me. Now, if you're asking if I can try to be more mindful of my temporary neighbor? That I can do."

He dropped off the second step to land a few feet from her on the grass and peered down at her.

"I’m planning to go out tonight and then stay at my own apartment in town, so you don’t have to worry. And next time I take the bike and come home late, I'll shut it off and roll it up the driveway if that makes you feel any better." He leaned in and tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. “And by the way, you've got poppy seed in your teeth."

Damn it.

"Which one?"

He let out a low chuckle and turned to jog lightly back up the stairs. "Pretty much all of them."

She let out a muffled curse as she scrubbed at her teeth with the pad of her index finger.

Ugh, why did stuff like that always seem to happen when he was around? It was like she waited until the one person who was most likely to tease her and revel in her misery was present and accounted for before she did anything embarrassing.

She shuffled her way back home, face still burning when she walked through the door again.

Whatever. Who cared, anyway? She didn't need to impress Michael Blade. Judging by the past few weeks, he’d obviously already made up his mind to treat her like a child for the rest of their lives, despite the fact that she'd just turned twenty-five. She needed to stop thinking about him and start thinking about impressing the one person who really mattered now that she was back in the old neighborhood.

Rick Blade.

Kaitlin picked up her coffee and took a sip as she thought about him. Like his twin Michael, Rick was gorgeous. But unlike Mike, Rick was really sweet, super easy to talk to, and an all-around great guy. He also hadn't slept with eighty-five percent of the females in town and didn't have an arrest record.

Huzzah.

Not that she needed any of those reasons to be crazy about the man. He was pretty much perfect for her. Trustworthy, and loyal. There for the people he cared about when the chips were down. If he hadn't had the same girlfriend throughout his entire high school career and then another during college, she probably would've realized what she should’ve realized when they'd met on her eighth birthday.

They were made for each other.

And now he was a doctor, about to spend three months in Africa donating his time at various village clinics. Which meant that she had one night left—tonight—to make sure he realized he had someone waiting for him when he came home, if he wanted her.

At least something good had come out of her sparring with Mike this time. He’d basically told her he had no plans to come back to his gran’s house tonight, which meant she could finally make her move on Rick. Up until now she was sure she’d missed her chance, nerves making her stall until pretty much last minute.

A quiver of anticipation mixed with abject terror coursed through her. When the phone jangled a few minutes later, she was still trying to decide if she could actually go through with it.

She glanced down at the screen and pulled the phone to her ear.

"You must be psychic, Cher! I was sending up the mental bat signal like crazy.”

If there was a person in this world that would be able to give her the confidence to do this, it was her best friend since middle school, Cheri. They’d been inseparable until college and even then, and through Kaitlin’s move two hours away, they still managed to stay as close as sisters. Cheri was the nuts to Kaitlin’s hot fudge sundae, and this wild move was right up her alley.

“I’m here to serve, Commissioner,” Cheri chirped back without missing a beat. “What does Gotham need?”

“I need you to make me look like a sex pot.” She swallowed back the rush of nerves and straightened her shoulders. “Because tonight, I’m going to put the moves on Doctor Rick Blade.”