Daveed Rafik gave a disgusted sigh as he stared at the headline of that morning’s Times society section. Society heiress ditches fiancé for actor—but Broadway star Jefferson Hanks now seen with new bikini babe in Tahiti! Where’s Melody Hascall-Ebons now?

His instincts and past had told him his best friend Heath’s marriage to the diva of downtown Manhattan, Melody, would be a disaster. This, however, was worse than he’d expected.

The irritating knock on the condo door continued and he walked over to answer, still distracted by the newspaper he held in one hand. Guess his phone call to check in with Heath would have to wait. Honestly, he’d only met his buddy’s rich girlfriend du jour once or twice, but if she was stupid enough to give up marrying one of the most decent, honorable, wealthy men on the Eastern seaboard for a fling with an actor who looked as though he’d definitely seen his better days come and go—well then, good riddance!

“I’m not interested in buying whatever it is…” he said as he yanked the front door open, his voice cold and his expression flat, at least until he got a good look at who was gracing the threshold. None other than the designer-dressed femme fatale he’d just been reading about. “What the hell are you doing here, Melody?”

The two other occasions he’d seen her, she’d been dressed to the nines in the latest ready-to-wear collections from Paris’s hottest designers. Today, though, she looked decidedly… soggy. It had been sleeting most of that morning, not uncommon for a New York December, and from the drowned-rat looks of her she’d been exposed to all of it. Her normally curly blonde hair was stuck to her head and dripping with water and her clothes looked soaked, as did her impractical suede stiletto pumps. Even the waterproof Louis Vuitton suitcase in her hand appeared ready to give up the fight.

When she didn’t answer him, his gaze drifted back to her face. His years as a counter-terrorism expert working with the US military had given him excellent people-reading skills, but it didn’t take a genius to tell from the dark shadows under her eyes and the tightness at the corners of her lips that she wasn’t having the best day ever.

“Melody?” he asked again, more gently this time. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same question. This is still Heath’s condo, right?” Then her explanation tumbled out in a flurry of stress and confusion. “Listen, it’s pouring outside and I couldn’t get a taxi because it’s December and everyone’s Christmas crazy already and then I got the Uber driver from hell and I don’t have any money for a hotel room and—”

“Wait a minute. Slow down.” Daveed ignored the slight throbbing of tension behind his left temple and crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe to block her entry. His loyalty was firmly in his buddy Heath’s corner, and given the way she’d run out on his friend without so much as a word goodbye just a month before their wedding, he wasn’t inclined to feel much sympathy for her, despite her predicament. Besides, her slick, tough New Yorker act mixed with too much privileged little rich-girl turned his stomach, frankly. Not to mention the twenty-grand bill Heath would still be stuck paying for the wedding that wasn’t.

“Heath’s not here. Sorry.” He straightened and started to close the door in her face, thinking it was no more than she deserved. “Goodbye.”

“Wait! Please!”

Perhaps it was the slight quiver in her voice signaling the start of tears. Perhaps it was the desperation in her tone that reminded him a bit of the homeless civilian kids they’d helped find lodging and food for in war-torn Iraq. Or perhaps it was the toe of her expensive pump, which she’d jammed into the crack of the door to prevent him from shutting her out.

Whatever it was, Daveed found himself exhaling slowly and opening the door again, against his better judgement. He had more important things to deal with that day, like helping his other best bud, Murphy, locate his missing sister. Yet here he was, listening to a sob story from the last woman in Manhattan he should give two fucks about.

“Please don’t turn me away,” she said again, sniffling. “I don’t have anywhere else to go. Unless you tell me where Heath is so I can go stay with him…”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

He bit back a smartass suggestion that maybe she try sleeping in the fancy ballroom at the Plaza Hotel she and her ritzy parents had suggested Heath pay top-dollar to rent. According to them the wedding that wasn’t should’ve been the society event of the year. Which, in a town where pretty much everything of note in the world of wealth and power occurred, was saying something. Instead, Daveed reluctantly opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. It was by no means an invitation for her to stay, but he couldn’t have her dripping all over the hallway carpet either. He closed the door behind her then tossed the paper aside, not quite ready to play nice yet.

“What’s the matter? Mommy and Daddy cut you off?” he joked. At least he thought it was a joke, until she burst into a fresh round of tears and sank down on the edge of Heath’s custom-made leather sofa, wet clothes and all. Cursing, he rushed to the bathroom and grabbed both towels and a box of tissues then rushed back to hand them to her. “Jesus, Melody. Pull yourself together.”

She looked so pitiful sitting there, he almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“I know you p-probably h-hate me,” she said, hiccupping around a sob as she dabbed her nose and face with a towel. “A-and I don’t b-blame you. But I swear I liked H-heath. I always have. I g-guess I just never t-thought we’d actually g-get m-married.”

Daveed raised a sardonic brow and slumped down into an armchair across from her. “That is usually what happens when one accepts a marriage proposal. Rings are exchanged, those sorts of things.” The three-carat diamond engagement ring Heath had bought her was gone and his anger toward her on behalf of his friend flared once more. Had she pawned it already? Lost it on the beach in Tahiti while she cavorted with that tap-dancing asshole Jefferson Hanks?

“I know that.” She managed to collect herself enough to glare at him. “I’m not stupid. Well, considering the mess I’ve made, maybe I am.”

He wasn’t inclined to disagree, though she did seem genuinely distressed and damn if Daveed hadn’t always been a sucker for women needing rescuing, even one as treacherous as the Princess of Pain over there. While she shrugged out of her trench coat and carefully placed it atop a towel on the floor to dry, he studied her more closely. She wasn’t beautiful, that was true. Her nose was a bit too long and her jaw a bit too strong for that. But she was striking, with her long blond curls and icy blue eyes. The clothes helped too, their expensive tailoring and fabric still managing to hug her curves in all the right places. Not that he was looking.

Nope. Not at all.

“My parents have locked me out of their Park Avenue townhouse. They’ve cancelled all my credit cards too.” She sniffled and blinked down at her left hand, new tears spilling down her flushed cheeks. “I had to hock the engagement ring Heath bought me just to buy a plane ticket to get back to the States.”

Despite his anger toward her betrayal of his friend, an unwanted pinch of empathy toward her stung his chest. Still, he wasn’t going to let her get under his skin so easily. He wasn’t a man who trusted easily, and she’d already proven herself a poor risk. He reverted back to his usual stand-by: sarcasm. “Your new boyfriend Jefferson didn’t foot the bill, huh?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped, using another towel to carefully dry the sofa cushion off before placing it beneath her then taking the final towel to squeeze some of the moisture from her hair and body. Daveed did his best not to follow the trail of that towel down her long, slim neck, over her delicate shoulders to her surprisingly ample breasts. Were they real? He clenched his fists against the appalling urge to find out. This woman was his best friend’s ex. Which should put her so far off limits he’d need GPS tracking to find her.

“Jefferson Hanks is nothing but a self-centered jerk who promised me the moon and stars and I was dumb enough to fall for it.” She yanked more tissues from the box and swiped them under her eyes before blowing her nose loudly. “All he really wanted from me was the publicity that comes with my name. God, maybe I really am as dumb as everyone’s always told me. My parents had planned for me to marry Heath for years, whether I wanted to or not.” More tears flowed. “I should’ve just gone along with their plan, I suppose.”

Crying women were normally his kryptonite, but damn if a bubble of sympathy didn’t burst inside him for Melody. Daveed knew only too well the pain of being pushed into an engagement one never wanted. His own parents unfortunately had done the same to him. As the eldest son of the royal family of the tiny island kingdom of Al Dar Nasrani, he’d been set to inherit the sheikhdom upon his father’s death. But in order to inherit, he was required by their laws to have a wife. His parents had ensured that wouldn’t be an issue by arranging an engagement for him to a girl he’d never met. He’d been ten and she, six. And all of it happening after they’d lied to him and assured him that his life was his own, that he could make his own choices, that they’d never force him to marry a woman he didn’t love. Then a month later they’d turned around and done the very thing they’d sworn not to. A therapist would probably say many of his trust issues stemmed from that occurrence. That therapist would be right, not that he’d ever deign to see a shrink. He handled his own problems just fine by himself, thanks.

Daveed shrugged off the painful memories and pushed to his feet, needing to burn off some of his adrenaline. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Sparkling water?”

Melody sighed and looked up at him, her gaze sad. “Water’s fine. Thank you.”

He took his time walking to the kitchen and getting her drink, glad for the time to get himself under control. For an instant there, he’d nearly offered to let her stay there with him for the night, but that would be crazy. She had no business mooching off her ex-fiancé’s friends. Those rights had disappeared the day she’d walked out on Heath and their engagement. Yet, his honor wouldn’t let him toss her out on her butt with no place to go and no money either.

Daveed was still pondering his dilemma when he walked back into the open-style living room with her sparkling water. Feeling awkward now that the initial shock and anger had burned away, he handed her the glass then patted her shoulder, not sure how else to offer comfort without getting too close. At least she’d stopped crying. As he straightened, Daveed caught a hint of her perfume—orange blossom and citrus and a hint of some exotic, expensive flower. Masculine awareness zinged through him before he tamped it down.

Not going there. Nope. Nope. Nope.

He slumped back into his chair across from her and said the first thing that came to his mind in order to distract himself. “I know about parents who arrange your engagement for you.”

“You do?” she asked, her blue eyes wide above the rim of her glass.

“Yes.” He crossed his legs and sighed. “My own parents arranged a marriage for me when I was only ten. My chosen bride was six at the time.”

“What?” She lowered her drink with a shaky hand, her expression incredulous. “You were just a child.”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” Melody shook her head. “That’s even worse than my parents pushing me into the engagement with Heath.” She frowned, staring down into her lap. “Where is he anyway? I know you said he wasn’t here. He probably hates me, right?”

Daveed shrugged. “Hate is a strong word. Disappointed, perhaps.”

“Hmm.” She gave a sad little chuckle. “Well, that seems to be my word of the day where romance is concerned. Heath ignored me basically the entire time we were together. Then that dickhead Jefferson waited until we got all the way to Tahiti to tell me he’s gay. God, what a mess.” She blinked hard and looked up at him again, her blue eyes hauntingly lovely. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked, his throat oddly constricted now.

“How do you learn to open your heart again after being burned by love?”

And there was the million-dollar question. If he had the answer to that, he’d rule the universe. As it was, he had no clue. Daveed checked his watch and realized it was going on seven at night and he still hadn’t finished his lists. His life revolved around organization and lists and he wanted to make sure he had all his bases covered for the next day when he talked to the guys again about Murphy’s sister. Without a word, he pushed to his feet and stalked over to the table to resume his seat and his scribbling.

* * *

Melody watched him walk away beneath her damp lashes. She’d never really paid much attention to Daveed before. He’d been one of Heath’s friends and always hanging around the periphery of their group, but had sort of kept to himself. Now, though, he’d come to her aid in her hour of need—or more like day of desperation—and a girl couldn’t ignore such chivalry.

As the silence between them grew more awkward by the second, she got up and wandered over to the table, which was covered by papers and post-it notes. Daveed didn’t look up at her at all, so she finally pulled out a chair and sat, forcing a tremulous smile. “What are you doing”

“Huh?” Daveed glanced up at her with a frown, as if just then remembering she was still there. “Oh, making lists. It’s how I keep track of everything I’ve got going on and my responsibilities.”

“Oh.” She picked up one yellow square and squinted at his illegible scrawl before he snatched it away from her.

“Please, don’t touch anything. These are all very important.”

“Right.” She’d never been big on lists or organization herself. Her mother had always had a social secretary to take care of most things for her and when that failed, then Melody preferred to “wing it.” For her life was all about spontaneity, but then again, given how this whole situation with Jefferson Hanks had turned out, maybe planning and consideration was the way to go. While Daveed said nothing more, scowling down at his notes again, she studied him more. Honestly, she really didn’t know the guy very well. From what Heath had told her, Daveed Rafik had served alongside him and their other friend, Murphy Coen, in the Middle East. Melody had always thought of Daveed as a sort of Arabic James Bond type from the way Heath had bragged about the guy. He graduated Yale at the top of his class, spoke five languages fluently, and thwarted terrorists in a single bound, all without firing a single weapon.

Now, however, as he wrote furiously, his dark brows knit in concentration, she took her first real look at the guy. She noticed when he’d first answered the door that he was tall and well-muscled. As she sat beside him at the table, his dark brown hair curled above the collar of his white button-down shirt and reflected hints of gold beneath the lights. Yep. He was gorgeous, no doubt about it. If you went for the romance-novel cover sheikh type. Which she didn’t, at least not up to this point.

“I’ll be done in a moment,” he said, his tone distracted. “You’d be more comfortable on the sofa, I’d imagine. If you need more water, there’s bottles in the fridge.”

Somewhat surprised to find she didn’t want to leave, Melody blinked at the top of his downturned head. What she really wanted was to know more about this super-spy-turned-list-maker. “I have to admit that I was jealous of you.”

That got his attention, finally. He looked up at her, gaze narrowed, his expression confused. “What? Why would you be jealous of me? You barely know me.”

She shrugged. “You and Murphy both, actually. And I wasn’t jealous of you personally, more the idea of you, I guess. Both of you guys sure got more of Heath’s attention when we were together than I ever did.”

“Hmm.” Daveed tapped the end of his pen on the glass tabletop. “Well, since we’re admitting things, I have to ask. How in the world did you and Heath end up together?” He chuckled. “Not that you’re not a gorgeous woman, but you two have so little in common.”

Once her brain moved past the fact that he thought she was gorgeous and the answering shimmer of awareness zinged through her body, she swallowed hard. “Truth?”

“Always.”

“Being with Heath, engaged to him, was convenient.”

“How romantic,” Daveed said, followed by a derisive snort.

“Hey, sometimes hearts and flowers aren’t everything. Wearing that engagement ring kept my parents from bugging me about getting married. Honestly, I always figured Heath would call it off at some point. But then my mother got involved and insisted we set a date and suddenly the altar loomed ahead. And you’re right. Heath and I barely knew each other. How could we with him off running around the Middle East with you and Murphy for the last five years?”

Melody watched closely for a reaction, but got none. There was that damned military stoicism. They must teach them that in basic training or something. Heath had that ability too, probably Murphy as well. They could all turn their emotions on or off at the drop of a hat, and frankly it drove her batty. She was tempted to kick Daveed in the shin, just to get some kind of reaction from him, but refrained. From what Heath had told her, the guy had the reflexes of a trained assassin and wasn’t afraid to use them if necessary.

The only hint she got that she might have gotten under his smooth, tanned skin a bit was the slight growl in his voice as he said, “We were not ‘running around’, as you put it. We were saving lives and defending democracy. A bit more important than some mock society wedding, wouldn’t you say?”

This time, it was her turn to snort. “Tell that to the tabloid gossip pages.”

“He’s helping Murphy with a family problem.”

“Huh?” She stared at all the papers and lists again. “Sorry. Not following.”

Daveed pushed his notepad away and put his pen down. “You asked me earlier where Heath was and I’ve told you. He’s helping Murphy.”

“Figures.” She rolled her eyes, more out of habit than true frustration. Yes, she was still a bit pissed about the way Heath had all but ignored her during their engagement, but now that she was warm and dry and safe with Daveed, those other slights fell by the wayside. “Care to share?”

“Share what?” Daveed asked, sitting back, his white cotton shirt stretching taut over his cut torso. She wasn’t sure where he worked out, but from the looks of his flat, washboard stomach through that shirt, he didn’t have an ounce of extra fat on his body.

“Murphy’s issue,” Melody said.

His bland look faltered slightly, replaced by a frown as he looked away. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know. Besides, I’d be out there helping them now if you hadn’t shown up. Murph’s sister has gone missing.”

“Oh, no.” Melody gasped, leaning in a bit closer to Daveed, her eyes wide with horror. “You don’t think anything horrible has happened to her, do you?”

“Don’t know.” His voice took on a frustrated edge. “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Aileen’s not the type to just drop off the radar. So yeah, Murph’s justifiably concerned.”

“Wow.” Melody glanced up to find Daveed watching her closely with those warm brown eyes of his. They were the color of pale coffee and infinitely intriguing and— she shook off her errant urge to stare into them all night and instead folded her hands in her lap. “Well, if anyone has the contacts to find her, it would be Heath.”

Heath had contacts in the CIA and all the other major intelligence agencies too.

“Yep.” Daveed continued to study her with his too-perceptive gaze, causing a fresh surge of heat through her bloodstream at his slow perusal. “It’s how he knew you were back in the country before it exploded in the media. Why he asked me to keep you away from him as well.”

At her startled look, he gave her a sexy little half grin. “Look, the last thing Heath needs to deal with right now is another scandal, courtesy of you. So, he asked me to handle you. That’s why I’m staying in the condo, in case you showed up.”

The words caused her knees to wobble slightly. Or maybe it was the man across from her.

Or both.

Her naughty mind began to conjure all the ways Daveed might “deal” with her. Maybe take her hard and fast up against the wall. Or slow and sweet on the rug in front of the fireplace. Or there was always the bedroom…

“…do with you,” Daveed said, jarring her back to reality.

Melody hoped her cheeks weren’t as flaming red as they felt. “I’m sorry?”

“I said I’m not sure what to do with you now.” He stood and walked back into the living room. “I don’t want to kick you out on the street, but I really need to concentrate on helping Murphy find his sister.”

“I understand.” She stood too, hesitating for a minute before heading over to where her coat still lay drying on the living room floor. “I didn’t mean to cause problems or be a burden.”

Melody blinked hard against the sting of tears. Why she was crying again, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she and Daveed were close, and what had she expected? Him to roll out the welcome mat when they barely knew each other? He was a busy guy. He had things to deal with in his own life. He didn’t need her hanging around, causing issues, just like he’d said. As she pulled on her damp coat and slid her feet into her now-ruined pumps, she swiped her hand under her nose and sniffled, squaring her shoulders before heading for the door with her suitcase rolling behind her. “I’m just going to go now. Thanks again for letting me dry out for an hour or so.”

Where exactly she’d go, she didn’t know. She’d volunteered one time for a charity ball at a local homeless shelter. Perhaps she’d bed down there for the night, except she couldn’t remember now where it was or if they accepted women at that particular establishment. One of the other gals volunteering that night had said only certain ones took women and children.

Her hand was on the doorknob when a sharp male curse echoed from behind her. “Wait.”

Breath held, Melody stopped and turned slowly to face Daveed.

“Where will you stay tonight?” he asked, his annoyance plain in his tone.

She didn’t have an answer for that so she didn’t give one.

“Shit.” He raked a hand through his thick dark hair and shook his head. “This goes against every instinct I have, but I don’t see another option.” Before she could react, he’d taken the suitcase from her hand and was carrying it down the hall toward the back of the condo. He stopped halfway and looked over his shoulder at her. “Come on, before I change my mind.”

As if in a daze, Melody followed him to a tiny guest room next door to his master suite. The room was clean and tidy, with a full-sized bed and a dresser and not much else inside.

“You can stay here tonight. It’s the opposite of fancy, but it’s clean and safe. Bathroom’s across the hall.” Daveed set her suitcase on the floor then headed for the door again. “You get showered and changed into something clean and dry while I text Heath and tell him to stay the hell away from the condo for the time being.”