“Where are you going?” Heath asked, bewildered as Aileen walked right past her apartment door and down the hall to the next-door neighbors’ place. Her snarky comments in the cab had left him on edge. He couldn’t have given two shits about his break-up with Mel. That had all been for show anyway. No. His discombobulation was far more about that kiss on the sidewalk in front of the senator’s SUV. Talk about a horrible mistake. He should’ve kept his hands and his lips to himself as he’d intended. Still, she’d got in a couple of low blows, so he couldn’t resist getting a jab in himself. “Been gone so long you forget which one’s yours?”

Aileen turned slightly and glanced at him over her shoulder, giving him the facial-expression equivalent of a middle finger. God, how could two siblings who’d grown up so close be so different personality-wise? Sure, Murphy had been a bit grumpy and a pain in his ass the past few weeks, but considering his little sister had gone missing, the guys cut him some slack. Normally Murphy was the most laid-back, affable guy Heath knew.

His sister, on the other hand, gave a whole new meaning to the term smartass.

Instead of walking back to where he was waiting by her door, Aileen knocked on the neighbors’ apartment then gave him a sickly-sweet smile meant to convey a hearty “fuck you.” Then the neighbors answered and Aileen’s smile transformed into genuine joy. An older woman, early seventies, leaned out and pulled Aileen into a tight bear hug.

“Oh my gosh, honey,” the woman said in a distinctly New York accent. “You have no idea how worried we’ve been. How are you? Where have you been hiding?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been working on a story. Undercover.”

Heath frowned. Was that a tearful sniffle he heard in Aileen’s voice? Exactly who were these people and why would Aileen go straight to them to let them know she was okay before she even alerted her own flesh and blood brother?

Mind swirling with questions, Heath slowly approached the two ladies. Murphy had waited this long for news of his sister, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. As he got closer, though, the older woman looked up and locked gazes with him. She pulled Aileen tight to her side in a show of maternal protection and scowled. The older woman gave him a quick once-over then side-eyed Aileen. “Who’s he?”

Aileen looked at Heath with both anger and resignation. “He’s a friend of my brother’s.”

“Ah. Pretty boy, ain’t he?” The older woman snorted. “Never seen your Murphy wearing duds like that around. Jeez, that coat alone could pay our rent for a year.”

Honestly, Heath had had this winter coat for years. It was the first purchase he’d made after his discharge from the military. And contrary to what everyone seemed to think about his expensive taste, it wasn’t about the money. It was about the quality. Well-made things lasted longer. They made good fiscal sense. That’s why he was willing to pay a bit more for something, knowing he’d get years of wear out of it. Designer labels and couture tailors meant nothing if the product itself was crap. And he might’ve inherited his wealth from his family, but he sure as hell didn’t flaunt it like they did, nor did he intend to blow through it like water on frivolous expenses. Every dollar he spent was because it meant something to him or because it would benefit a cause he supported, like BrightStart, the tech company he’d founded. The company was focused on bringing more STEM education to women, minorities, and other underprivileged groups. In Heath’s opinion, wealth should empower and enrich people, not be hoarded stingily—a philosophy his father didn’t share, unfortunately.

Aileen tapped the toe of her shiny black Santa boot on the hardwood floor of the hallway, her gaze narrowed and her expression skeptical. Then that skepticism morphed into determination as she seemed to come to a decision about things. Quick as a flash, she turned to the older woman and gave her another brilliant smile. “Can we come in for a minute?”

“Of course, honey. You’re always welcome in our home,” the older woman said, gesturing Aileen into the apartment. Her friendly smile shifted to a frown as Heath sidled past her. So much for a warm welcome where he was concerned.

Still, the pure joy on Aileen’s face had Heath’s heart pinching and his lungs aching. Aileen as she’d been outside, all prickly and pissed off, was a sight to behold. Aileen now, all happy and caring and relaxed, was… well… breathtaking.

Perplexed by his reactions, he took a look around the apartment while the older woman closed the door behind them. The layout of the place was a mirror image of Aileen’s next door, a small studio loft with a separate bathroom and neat sections divided off by book shelves or furniture or Asian paper screens. Soft golden light from several lamps bathed the area and the succulent scents of roasted garlic and melted cheese drifted through the air. Heath’s stomach growled. He’d not eaten all day. Too busy tracking the senator, then later, Aileen.

In the living room space sat an older man in baggy trousers and a mustard-yellow sweater vest. His threadbare recliner faced a TV flickering with images from some game show. Aileen bent to kiss the old guy’s cheek and he reached up to pat her hair.

“Glad you’re back, snookie,” the older man said, his gaze never leaving his program. “We’ve been worried about you.”

“Thanks, Pops.” Aileen stepped back and clasped her hands in front of her, not meeting Heath’s gaze. “These are the MacLeans. Fiona and Devon. They pretty much adopted me when I first moved to New York to start my journalism career. Fiona and Devon, this is Heath Goldwin, III.”

Heath could’ve done without her throwing out his whole title. Not that he was embarrassed of his heritage, but sometimes it made people act weird around him once they knew he was part of an old-money, illustrious family.

Fiona exhaled slow then shrugged one shoulder, looking completely unimpressed. “Well, you can’t help your family, can you?” She reached over to shake his hand. “I think I’ve seen you around here before, with Aileen’s brother. Did you two serve together in the military?”

“Yes, ma’am. Two tours in the Middle East. I’m retired from duty now.”

“Thank you for your service, son.” This came from Devon, who still seemed completely absorbed in his show, some trivia game Heath had never seen. Truth was, he rarely had time these days to just sit and do nothing. A commercial came on and Devon finally looked up and met Heath’s gaze, his eyes sharp and watchful despite his advanced age. “I did a couple tours myself in Korea. War is hell, ain’t it?”

“Yes sir, it is. What branch were you in?”

“Air Force. Mechanic,” Devon said.

“Ah. Murphy and I served together in the Navy. That’s how we met actually. War has a tendency to bond people.”

“Got that right.” The older man seemed to take stock of Heath before finally pointing to an arm chair across from him. “Take a seat, son. I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

Heath hazarded a glance over at Aileen, who was leaning a shoulder against the wall near the kitchen, where Fiona was back to her cooking. “Oh, well. Thanks, but we need to get back to Aileen’s apartment. Her brother’s waiting for news about her and I—”

“Nonsense.” Fiona walked out of the kitchen area, hands on hips. “You’re staying for dinner and that’s that. I won’t hear an argument about it. Now sit down and wait like a good boy.”

Aileen shook her head, biting back a grin, and Heath gave up the fight. He limped over to his seat and shrugged out of his coat and scarf while Aileen went into the kitchen to help Fiona. It seemed like a scene right out of the fifties, and the last place he’d expected to find himself tonight. Still, the MacLeans’ place was comfortable and homey and made him yearn for all the things he’d never really had growing up, the things money couldn’t buy—affection, acceptance, easygoing evenings where the whole family was present and no one was checking their phones or the latest stock reports or the society pages.

“That injury from your service?” Devon asked, pointing to Heath’s leg.

“No.” He smiled, not really wanting to get into his father’s polo playing for fear it would only isolate him even more from these people. “Broke my leg when I was a teen.”

“Too bad.” Devon focused on his TV show again and soon Heath lost himself in the trivia questions too, eventually even joining Devon in answering the final round. They cheered and high-fived each other and Heath was surprised to find he was enjoying himself more than he had in a good long while.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Aileen called as she finished setting the table. “You guys can come over and take a seat.”

Minutes later they were all gathered around the dining room table. Fiona dished up fresh salad and homemade bread sticks and spaghetti Bolognese, and Heath couldn’t remember when he’d ever tasted anything more delicious, or felt more scrutinized.

“So, what are your intentions with our Aileen?” Fiona asked.

“No intentions, ma’am.” Heath washed down a bite of food with a gulp of water. “I promised Murphy I’d help find her and that’s what I’ve done. He’s been worried sick about her these past few weeks. The way she took off without a word to anyone.”

“It’s called going undercover for a story,” Aileen snapped, giving him a dirty look across the table. “You seem to keep forgetting that I’m a grown woman who can make my own decisions about where I go and who I tell when I’m leaving.”

Trouble was, since that kiss in the park he hadn’t forgotten for a second that she was a grown woman. A woman with soft curves hidden by that ridiculous Santa suit.

Speaking of that suit…

“You guys aren’t curious why she’s dressed up like that?” he asked the MacLeans and gestured toward Aileen with his fork.

Devon shrugged, his concentration on his plate. “Snookie always did have a flare for the dramatic and she’d do anything to get her story. I figure if she wants to dress up like St. Nick then she’s probably got a good reason for it.”

Aileen gave him a take-that stare. “They know what my job entails and they trust me to do it safely and competently. Unlike some other people.”

“What’s got me thinking more, Heath,” Fiona said, gesturing with her fork in his direction, “is what’s got a rich guy like you slumming it down here with us lower East Side types. We ain’t got much and the place is falling apart around our ears. Just last week our heat went out. Had to argue until I was blue in the face with the super to get it fixed. Still haven’t made a dent in the bill yet.” She scrunched her nose and narrowed her gaze on Heath. “But even with our financial issues, we take care of our own. I don’t want’ to see our Aileen get mixed up with some guy who doesn’t have her best intentions at heart.”

“Well, like I said, Fiona. My only intentions are to reunite Aileen with her brother, Murphy, who misses her very much. After that, what they decide to do is none of my business.” He finished his last bite of food then pushed his empty plate away, full and content for the first time in a long time. “Thank you for the meal, Fiona and Devon. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome.” Fiona stood and began clearing the plates and Aileen joined her. “You just watch yourself, you hear?”

“Loud and clear.” Heath leaned back in his seat and watched as Aileen placed her handfuls of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink then whispered something to Fiona before going into the bathroom and closing the door. A niggle of instinct bored into his gut, but he brushed it off.

“I’m finishing my show now, dear,” Devon said to Fiona then left the table. Heath was alone. He waited and waited for Aileen to come out of the bathroom, but she didn’t.

His suspicions grew the longer he sat. He leaned forward and frowned at Fiona, who stood at the kitchen sink with her back to him. “Is she all right in there?”

No response.

Scowling, Heath got up and walked over to the bathroom door to knock lightly. “Aileen, you okay?”

Nothing.

Dammit. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Without consulting the MacLeans, Heath pulled a small leather packet from the back pocket of his jeans and knelt to pick the lock. Of all the dirty tricks to pull, this had to be the showstopper. He opened the door to find the bathroom empty and the small window across from the toilet open, leading to a rickety old fire escape outside.

Aileen was gone. Again.

* * *

As Aileen carefully maneuvered down the slick metal ladders of the fire escape, she couldn’t help questioning the wisdom of her own actions. Yes, she needed to get back to work on her story. After all, that’s why she’d put herself in danger in the first place and if she abandoned it now then it would all be for naught.

But then there was the problem of Heath Goldwin, III. Bad enough he was best buds with Murphy and treated her like a kid who needed a spanking most of the time. Now he had the audacity to make her like him. And not in an isn’t-he-a-nice-guy way either. That kiss in the park had curled her toes good from a lust perspective. Then he had to go and be all warm and cuddly with the MacLeans and make her picture a life with him past this mess they were currently involved in. Made her picture him with their kids—a girl and a boy, one with his blond hair and her amber eyes and the other with her dark hair and his gray gaze. Made her picture them sharing a house, a history. It was nuts.

She wasn’t looking for a relationship right now. She had her work, her career to think about. She wasn’t ready to settle down like that at the ripe old age of twenty-five, was she?

No. She was not. Her foot slipped off a rung and Aileen gripped the freezing cold metal tighter, hoping her bare palms wouldn’t stick to the wet steel. Would’ve been nice to get her coat and gloves before sneaking out, but that would’ve ruined everything. Heath was far too observant for his own good and it would have been weird to take that stuff into the bathroom with her. So, here she was, hanging off the side of a Manhattan brick building as big fat snowflakes pelted her face, two days before Christmas and probably catching pneumonia.

Way to go, idiot.

And yeah, she was Jewish, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t like all this cheesy, commercialized holiday stuff. She didn’t celebrate in the traditional Christian sense, but she could still get into the whole spirit of the season.

Shivering and wet, she made her way down the last ladder and set foot on solid ground once more, breathing a sigh of relief. She figured she’d sneak back into the lobby and beg the night watchman, Sid, to let her hang out in the back room until Heath was gone, then head back up to her apartment for dry clothes.

Sounded like a plan.

Except when she turned to duck around the back corner of the apartment building and head toward the service entrance, she ran smack into a warm, hard wall of muscle. The same warm, hard wall of muscle she’d been pressed against during that fantastic kiss in Central Park.

Heath.

So much for her intrepid stealthy escape moves.

He held her tight by the upper arms and gazed down at her with a raised brow. “Going for a post-dinner walk?”

Chin jutted out in defiance, she shook off his hold and crossed her arms. “I ate too much pasta.”

Aileen tried to step around him and keep going like his appearance hadn’t totally screwed up her plans and flustered the crap out of her for the second time that day. But he simply moved with her, blocking her path. Then he had the gall to maneuver that big, hard body of his around to basically cage her in against the wall. Never mind that his warmth felt delicious, radiating through her damp clothes, and the way the glint of suspicion mixed with heat in his eyes made her girly parts do a tingling happy dance. He was definitely the predator in this situation and she the prey. And no way was she going to get caught tonight.

“Out with it,” he said, a slight growl to his tone.

“With what?” She did her best to keep her voice steady and cool, hiding the tremor now running through her from head to toe. This time, however, the shaking had nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the irritating, incredibly sexy man in front of her. Still, she wasn’t about to give up the fight that easily. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Fair enough.” His gaze flickered to her lips before returning to her eyes and her lips parted, remembering his kiss. “But what about Murphy?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to answer every one of my questions with another question?”

“Are you going to keep asking me things you don’t want the answer to?”

Heath narrowed his gaze on her, studying her for a moment before moving closer to rest his gloved hands against the brick wall on either side of her head. Being this near to him, she could see the flecks of brown and green in his irises and catch a whiff of his scent—cloves and spice and expensive soap. His minty breath ghosted over her icy cheeks as he whispered, “What makes you think I don’t want to know? I’m here, aren’t I? Tell me, Aileen.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Her words came out breathier than she wanted and she coughed to clear the sudden lump of want from her throat. “You’re just keeping a promise to my brother.”

“I am, that’s true. But tell me anyway. Why are you putting yourself at risk like this? There’ll be other stories, other opportunities to make a name for yourself as a journalist.”

“Making a name for myself has nothing to do with it.” The snow started to come down harder and Heath huddled closer to protect her from the worst of it. Her jaded heart gave a small squeeze. Such a gentleman, even at a time like this. She exhaled and stared at the toes of her black patent leather Santa boots. God, she hadn’t even thought to change at the MacLeans and bless their hearts they’d never said a word about her odd attire, except to stick up for her to Heath. Man, she loved them as much as she loved her own father and brother. They were like her family. That was the real reason she was here. “You met Fiona and Devon. They’re good people. The best. They took me in and helped me when no one else would. I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for them. But they’re in trouble. Fiona mentioned a bit about their financial issues over dinner, but it gets worse. If Senator Lawrence’s crooked deal with EnKor goes through, they’ll corner the market on clean energy and jack up the prices for everyone. People like the MacLeans can’t afford them. They’d lose everything. Just like millions of other folks all over the country. That’s why I went undercover. That’s why I took such risks. Why I’ll keep taking those risks until I expose every shady connection and detail between the senator and EnKor. I can’t stop now. It’s too important.”

Heath cursed under his breath and looked away. “I had no idea.”

“How could you?” She sniffled and wiped the back of her hand across her damp cheek. “But I can’t risk Murphy getting involved. He’s a wonderful brother and I love him so much it hurts, but he could ruin everything if he starts his whole big, bad protector act around me and blows my cover. Understand?”

It took several agonizing seconds of silence before Heath finally nodded. “How much longer?”

“For what?”

“For you to get the intel you need and to finish this story?”

“I don’t know. Maybe two weeks?” She shrugged, frowning. “Why?”

“You might not want a protector hanging around, but you need one.” Heath pushed off the brick wall and crossed his beefy arms, though he still didn’t allow her enough space to get around him and escape. “I promised Murphy I’d look for you and make sure you were safe. A promise I intend to keep. Your story’s important though too, and I get that. So, let’s make a deal. You can keep running your undercover investigation, but only if I’m along for the ride. As your bodyguard.”

“My bodyguard?” She snorted. “I don’t—”

“Yeah, you do. Besides, I’ve got lots of contacts in the government from my time in the military. CIA, FBI, the Pentagon. I can help you get the proof you need to nail this bastard’s ass to the wall.” He widened his stance, giving the impression he could stand there all night, if needed. “So, what’s it going to be? I haul you upstairs right now and make a call to Murphy, or you accept my help and we go catch us some bad guys?”

“Those are my choices, huh?” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, making a show of considering it when what she really wanted to do was stomp on his toes for acting like such an abominable ass. He wasn’t the boss of her, no matter what he might think at the moment. “And who’s to say I won’t agree, then ditch you later and do my own thing anyway? Didn’t think about that did you, He-Man the Barbarian?”

If her insult struck home at all, he didn’t show it. Instead, he chuckled and grinned, in that smug, arrogant, thoroughly adorable way of his. She clenched her fists to keep from punching him. “You won’t run off, because I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for the next fourteen days. Where you go, I go. Eating, sleeping, whatever.”

“Showering too?” she said, going for snotty but ending up somewhere around breathless again as images of the two of them naked and slick in a tile shower together cascaded through her mind. His muscles pressed to her soft curves as he stroked her and licked her and made her cry out his name in ecstasy…

As if sensing the path her naughty mind had taken, Heath’s grin widened and his eyes grew brighter as passion flared in their depths. “That could be arranged too, if you want.”

Want?

Her brain snagged on that word. Well, shit. It didn’t matter what she wanted. This was a business deal, nothing more. Flirting and fighting aside, she needed to be careful around this guy. He’d been friends with her brother for far longer than he’d known her and she knew damned well where his loyalties truly were. She also had no doubt he’d make good on his threats too. She fully intended to tell Murphy what was going on and let him know she was okay, at the right time and in the right way. Her family came from hearty Irish-Jewish stock and Murphy was the kindest, sweetest, most easy-going guy to be around—until you threatened something he held dear. Then all bets were off. He’d be pissed as hell when she finally did contact him and she couldn’t risk him blowing all this for her. Not now.

Aileen exhaled slowly then held out her hand. “Fine. Deal?”

Heath glanced down at her hand, then back up to her face, his grin fading a bit as he wrapped her frigid fingers in his warm, leather-covered ones. “Deal. But we keep this above board, no more flirting, no more temptation. This is business, understand? And you are the little sister of my closest friend. I’ll be your shadow and you promise not to do anything reckless or stupid or dangerous again.”

She nodded and he let her go, stepping back to allow her to move out from the wall. Funny enough, she missed his heat almost immediately. “Right. Let’s start by going back upstairs so I can change.”

“You can change at my place.” Heath took her arm and led her out to the main street where he hailed a taxi.

After they were settled in the backseat and he’d given the driver directions, Aileen finally got a word in edgewise. “What exactly am I supposed to change into when I get there? All my stuff’s in my apartment. Well, other than the small stash I keep at the MacLeans.”

“I’ll get you new stuff.” He looked her up and down. “What size are you? Four, maybe six? Definitely petite.”

She wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his “petite,” but he was already on his phone, making calls to God knew where. She slumped in her seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery. The sky had become overcast again, threatening more snow on the way. The sun had gone down about an hour prior so all the holiday lights were on, casting the slush and ice in pretty pastel colors. The taxi headed toward SoHo and Aileen started to get curious. Last she’d heard from Murphy, Heath lived in a condo close to Central Park.

Then again, maybe he’d moved. Wasn’t like she kept tabs on the guy or anything.

A few minutes later their cab pulled up in front of a non-descript brownstone on a quiet side street. Heath paid the guy and got out, then offered Aileen his hand. She stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the remodeled jewel from the late nineteenth century. “Wow. Is this your place?”

“My father’s actually,” Heath said, leading her up the front steps to a black painted door. “It’s between renters at the moment, so it worked out well for me.”

“What happened to your condo by Central Park?” she asked as she followed him inside a Victorian-style foyer complete with intricate carved fretwork decorating the entrance. “Got bored?”

“No, actually. Got squatters.” He gave a rueful chuckle and locked the front door behind them. “Daveed and Mel are living there for the time being. Until they get married and get a place of their own.”

“Oh.” She followed him into a renovated living room with gleaming hardwood floors and a beautiful beaux-art white marble fireplace in one wall. “That’s generous of you to give up your home like that.”

Heath shrugged and sorted through his mail. “Daveed’s like a brother. Same as Murphy. And it’s not like you haven’t done the same. As far as I know, Murphy and Shayma are still shacking up in your apartment. Unless they’ve moved back into her suite at The Plaza. Not sure. Have to check on that one. Either way, both your brother and Daveed were waiting for me back at your place, so we came here instead. A deal’s a deal, right?”

“Right.” Suddenly feeling very silly in her Santa suit, Aileen fidgeted in the corner of the grand space. Her mind stuck on what Heath had just said. “Wait a minute. Who’s Shayma?”

“You have been gone a while, haven’t you?” Heath chuckled. “Shayma’s your brother’s girlfriend-slash-soon-to-be-fiancée.”

“Oh.” Well, didn’t that make her feel even more like an idiot. She twisted her Santa hat in her hands and glanced around again. “So, about those clothes you said you’d get.”

“Yep.” As if on cue, a knock sounded on the front door and he walked over to let in two women and a man carrying a plethora of shopping bags from all the finest New York stores—Bloomingdales, Saks, Neiman-Marcus, Bergdorfs. They set about laying out everything from jeans and T-shirts to lingerie and PJs, socks and dresses and even a few evening gowns.

While she gawked at the clothes, Heath walked them back to the foyer and gave them each a wad of cash before locking the door behind them once more. Aileen was in awe. Seriously. She’d known Heath and his family had billions, but she’d never imagined she’d have her very own Pretty Woman moment with him. “Uh, there’s no way all this stuff is for me. I can’t possibly wear everything. And how do we know it even fits?”

“Oh, it’ll fit. Trust me.” He ran an assessing gaze over her again, and she’d never felt more naked or wanton in her life. “I’ve got an eye for things like that. Plus, those shoppers are my personal assistants. They know what I want better than I know myself. Now, why don’t you take all of this to the guest room and start trying it on?” He pointed down the hallway. “You can take the room across from mine. It’s all ready to go. After you’re settled, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

He walked out of the room, a man obviously used to being obeyed, and she did as he asked. She found the guest room to be more than adequate—it was nearly as big as her entire apartment with an enormous walk-in closet straight out of Carrie Bradshaw’s dreams and an en-suite luxury bathroom with marble tub and separate travertine tiled walk-in shower with dual showerheads. She nearly wept with joy. Living undercover for the past month might’ve gotten her closer to her story, but it had left a lot to be desired in the pampering department. Between hustling back and forth to change at the MacLeans and avoiding seeing anyone she knew at any cost, things had been stressful to say the least. By the time she got all her clothes situated and tried on several outfits—all of which fit her perfectly too, damn him—she finally got a chance to try out her new bathroom. Heaven on earth, that’s what it was. The hot water from the massaging showerheads helped ease her aching muscles and left her feeling drowsier than ever.

After drying off then pulling on a pair of her new flannel PJs, these in bright Christmas red with tiny green wreaths festooned all over them, she headed out to find Heath. From his damp blonde hair and charcoal gray robe that set off his stormy eyes perfectly, he’d had the same idea as her. The sight of his bare feet beneath the hem of his black silk pajama pants set off a funny flutter of butterflies in her stomach, as did the glimpse of toned, tanned chest visible through the open V of his robe. Damn, but the man really was devastatingly handsome, especially all relaxed and tousled like he was now. Molten desire unfurled within her and spread like honey through her body before she could stop. She wanted Heath Goldwin, III, no doubt about it, even if she could never have him. It would be wrong. They’d made a deal to work the EnKor case together. Not to mention it would be weird. He was her brother’s best friend. But man oh man, the fantasies she could have. Like tracing her tongue along his stubble-covered jaw, down the strong column of his tanned neck to the thudding pulse point at the base of his neck and beyond. A small moan lodged in her throat and she bit back the sound before it escaped.

At least she thought she had. But then she glanced up and found Heath watching her, his gray eyes filled with an answering need and more than a little wariness. He cleared his throat then looked away fast, a slight frown puckering the space between his brows. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. I’m going to bed so I can hit the research earlier in the morning. And just in case you get any ideas about reneging on our deal, this place is wired for security tighter than Fort Knox, courtesy of my father, and I’m a very light sleeper. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Why do you want to help me, really?” she asked, arms crossed to hide her stiff nipples. The last thing she needed was for him to realize how much he affected her. “Is it all about your promise to my brother?”

“Yep.” He didn’t look at her as he said it, just kept shutting off lights and securing doors and windows. “That about sums it up.”

“I don’t believe you. And I’m too tired for the tour tonight.” For some reason, she wanted to get a rise out of him, shatter that cool, untouchable wealthy-man persona he wrapped around himself like a shield. “And I’ll pay you back for the clothes I wear. I don’t need handouts.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. No tour tonight. I’m too tired as well. And no, you won’t pay me back for the clothes and no you don’t need handouts.” He walked down the hall to what she assumed was the kitchen and secured it for the night before returning to where she stood in the living room. He stopped at the keypad on the wall and punched in numbers, which she did her best to read from where she stood. He seemed to notice that too, dammit, and shielded the pad with his hand as he finished up. “What you really need, in my opinion, is a good spanking.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” A loud beep issued, then a countdown from five to one. The lock on the front door gave a sinister snick as the security system sealed them in for the night. So much for her plans to wait until he’d fallen asleep to get out of there. Heath leaned one muscled shoulder against the entrance to the living room, watching her with a narrowed gaze, his robe gaping open even more to reveal firm pecs dusted with a light smattering of golden hair that formed a line through the center of his toned, taut abs and disappeared beneath the belt of his robe. Her mouth went dry as desert sand. And now all she could seem to think about were images of Heath sitting on the sofa with her draped naked over his lap as he paddled her behind.

Not helpful. Not at all.

To keep from melting into a puddle of goo on his pristine hardwood floor, Aileen fell back on her usual defense—sarcasm. “Look, Christian Gray, I appreciate your whole bad boy billionaire with a penchant for kink persona you’ve got going on here, but I’m not into that hurts-so-good scene, got it? And you try to lay a hand on me, you might not get it back.”

A small smile formed on his firm lips. “Is that so? You think you can take me out? Don’t forget I’m ex-military.”

“And don’t you forget I’ve been taking care of myself a long time. I’ve got a black belt in Krav Maga and I’m not afraid to use it. No one touches me without my permission.”

Heath pushed away from the wall, approaching her like a panther stalking his prey. “Is that so? Good to know. It’s been awhile. Maybe we’ll have to fight it out at the gym sometime. See who’s really got what it takes.”

“I can answer that for you right now,” Aileen said, her tone growing huskier and louder as her pounding pulse filled her ears. “That would be me. You might have more muscle, but I’m smaller and wily and that gives me the advantage. I’m warning you, mister. Don’t fuck with me.”

He stopped mere inches away, close enough that his heat and scent surrounded her—soap and musk and warm, clean male. Close enough that she could reach up and run her fingers along the stubble on his jaw and feel the soft bristle of it for herself. Close enough that if she leaned in slightly she could brush her lips over his and finally taste him.

“And I’m warning you,” he growled, his breath panting like hers, “don’t test me. You won’t like the results.”

With that he walked away, leaving her to stare after him, more hot and bothered and needy than she’d ever remembered being for another man in her life. All this over the last man on earth she should ever want—her brother’s best friend and the one person who could ruin everything she’d worked to achieve over the last few weeks.

With a sigh, Aileen headed for bed, shutting off the living room lights on the way, certain sleep would be hard to come by tonight despite her exhaustion.