He nearly broke his promise.

Despite letting Cass think he wouldn’t call Chase, he nearly caved during the interminable afternoon. He’d mostly managed to hold his concern in check when she’d been in front of him, but alone in his gloomy office with nothing but the rain sliding down the window, his metronome and his laptop to keep him company, he almost buckled.

If the situation was reversed and Cass were his sister, he’d want to know. Chase wouldn’t be home for a few weeks yet. He and his girlfriend, Summer, were currently touring the state of Vermont with her new band, the Renegades. It probably didn’t make sense to worry him when he couldn’t be home right now to handle things anyway—Chase was Summer’s bodyguard, literally and metaphorically—but that didn’t mean Jax wasn’t tempted. He and Chase had only begun to repair the cracks in the foundation of their friendship after ten years of distance, and keeping things from him only months into the Chase and Jax Show Part Deux wasn’t cool.

Then there was Sterling. Deuces Wild was a business. Official clients needed to be logged and expenses noted on the reams of paperwork Sterling hoarded like a miser. If Jax kept Cass off the books, he’d have to take other cases as they came in. It wasn’t as if they were usually deluged with work, but still. It was summer. That was high season for harassing friends and neighbors. The heat made people nuts. And here he was, moving in with a client he couldn’t even talk about with his partners.

The moving thing was yet another issue. People in town loved to gossip. He didn’t mind being associated with Cass in a non-professional manner. Hell, he’d do a fucking cheer. But he knew she didn’t feel the same. He was the kind of guy a woman like her treated as a dirty little secret. His wealth and fame weren’t status points in her eyes. They only made him less desirable. For her sake, he’d have to be as low-key as possible to keep his new location on the down low.

For his sake? He was already mentally packing up reading material he knew would work as surefire erection deflators for the nights he’d be sleeping a few feet away from the source of most of his fantasies for the past year.

So far he had the Bible, his ma’s dog-eared copy of The Thorn Birds and a parenting magazine he’d found in the pile of used magazines his mother brought home from the church bazaar. If articles about controlling spit-up didn’t tamp down his libido, nothing would.

Cass didn’t want trouble in her life. She went about her business quietly, carefully. Basically she was the anti-Jax Wilder. That some douchenozzle had decided to fuck with her made him want to punch through a wall.

Rather than doing that, he decided to take a proactive approach. After he got out of work—at five, thank you very much—he swung by Sparky’s Bar and Grille, fairly certain that his target would be camped out at the bar, crunching on peanuts and propositioning unsuspecting women while pretending to watch whatever game was on TV.

Since Russ had gotten hurt a few years ago and cut from his not-quite-pro hockey team, he’d bummed around town doing odd jobs no one could quite identify and living off his savings. Now he was working at a law firm as some sort of sports consultant. It sounded completely dubious to Jax, but the people of Yardley took care of their own—especially their fallen sports heroes—and he didn’t doubt the firm had made up some bogus position that allowed Russ to retain his pride. Such as it were.

Jax figured that pride was what had driven him to start harassing Cass. They’d had a couple of blowups in public last summer, but she’d moved on and seemed happier than ever. Her business was growing, thriving even, and Russ probably hated that. They always said success was the best revenge, and she’d definitely bested him.

He hadn’t been ready to let her go when she’d cut him loose. Who knows, maybe Russ was getting tired of Amanda and hoped Cass would get scared by the threats and run back to his arms. Who could predict what was going on in that bastard’s head?

Jax didn’t care about Russ’s thought processes. He wanted to make sure Russ understood his. If Russ retained his douche card and showed up to act like a drunken, groping ass as he often did on Thursday nights, Jax intended to share them up close and personal like.

Two hours later, he decided luck wasn’t with him. Russ must’ve found some other hole to crawl into for the evening. He might’ve pressed it and hung around for a while if not for the fact that he’d been hit on about ten times. Unless he wanted to make sure that Cass wouldn’t let him step foot in her place, he needed to make a break for it while he could. Never mind the excess perfume and hair product that was probably already clinging to his clothes.

Halfway to the door, he stopped. There in a corner booth was Russ and Amanda, the woman he’d cheated on Cass with. She was pretty enough in an outrageous way. Too much makeup, too few clothes. Obvious in every manner that Cass was subtle.

Jax strode toward the booth. Your loss, fucker.

Without saying hello, he slid into the booth across from them and motioned for the nearest waitress. “Hey there. Coke, please.” She hustled off to fill his order while Russ and Amanda stared at him as if he’d been beamed in via spaceship.

“Can I help you?” Russ asked.

“Sure can. I have some business to talk with you.” He barely spared Amanda a glance. She’d known Cass was Russ’s girl and she hadn’t hesitated to climb in the jerk’s lap a year ago in this very bar. That she’d stayed with him since didn’t make her any better in Jax’s eyes. It only meant she liked to repeat mistakes. “Alone.”

“Whatever you have to say to me you can say in front of—”

“No, no, that’s fine, honey.” Amanda patted Russ’s thigh and slid out of the booth. “I’ll skedaddle for a few. Don’t be long.”

Russ watched her go. Actually, he watched her ass go. It was easy enough to spot, outlined as it was in stretchy lime fabric. “I won’t. I’m sure Jax will be quick.” Russ smirked and tipped back his beer. “How’s your fastball working out lately?”

“As well as your hockey stick.” Wasting no time, Jax leaned forward and got right in Russ’s face. “I’ve been spending time with Cass Dixon.”

Russ’s mouth tightened. “That so? I’d think she would know better than to mess with the likes of you.”

Sharp retorts sprung to his tongue, the kind he’d prefer to deliver while using his fists. This smug bastard had been asking for it since last year, but that wasn’t what he was there for. Though he’d leave the option open for the future, depending on how this conversation went.

So far, he didn’t have high hopes.

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes a man and a woman can spend time together without messing with each other.”

“Ah. You’re not getting any.” Russ smirked. “Feel bad for you, man. She’s a hot little thing when she loses the pearls.”

Jax smiled at the waitress as she set down his Coke, then picked it up and threw it back in a few swallows. It wasn’t whiskey. Not even close. Since he would technically be on duty tonight at Cass’s, he wasn’t about to get loaded. He intended to have his wits sharp and ready.

And all the parenting magazines he could find stacked up like firewood.

“Pearls are a big change from your new fake gold counterpart.” Jax rubbed his jaw. “I understand. It can be hard to compete with real class. But don’t worry, I’m not here to question your choice in girlfriends.”

“What are you here for then?”

“To tell you to watch your fucking step.” Jax leaned forward and met Russ’s shifty dark eyes. “A year ago, I wasn’t back in town full-time. Now I am. And I’m what you’d call a little overprotective when it comes to Cass. She’s like a—” the word sister died in his throat, “—very close friend to me and I don’t take kindly to anyone treating her badly.”

“Hmm. Someone sounds threatened.”

Jax rubbed his jaw. “You’ve got that wrong, pal. You can consider that a threat from me. I won’t tell you twice to be very careful when it comes to her.”

Russ threw his arm over the back of the booth and looked bored. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but luckily enough for me, I don’t give a shit. Now if you don’t mind getting lost, I’d like to continue my night with Amanda.”

“Do whatever you like, as long as you stay the hell away from Cass.”

Russ’s smirk reappeared, only adding to his overall weasel-like appearance. “Oh, I’m sure I can keep busy. Since I’ll actually be getting some tonight while you’re trying to cozy up to your supposed close friend.” He saluted Jax with his bottle. “Good luck with that.”

“Consider this your first and last warning. If I have to tell you again, I guarantee I won’t be as pleasant.” Jax slid out of the booth and gestured to Amanda. “Come over and collect your trash. I’m done with him.”

Satisfied he’d gotten his message across, he headed home to his ma’s place to pack a bag. His mother was at Thursday night bingo, and he wouldn’t slink out on her. For now, he’d leave Tally and most of his stuff behind and take the essentials. Hell, maybe tonight’s speech would do the job and Russ would find someone else to harass.

Unless Cass’s stalker wasn’t her ex. If so, they’d find out soon enough. In the meantime, he’d added a couple of extra copies of Reader’s Digest to his pile just in case.

After throwing some extra kibble in Tally’s bowl and spending a few minutes loving on his dog, he swung his bag over his shoulder and headed out to his bike. The warm rain lightly pelted his skin as he started the motorcycle and kicked it into gear. One of these days he’d have to buy a new helmet, preferably before he got ticketed. He shot down his ma’s driveway in a flurry of gravel that never failed to speed up his heart rate. Riding his Harley ranked third on his list of favorite activities, and he didn’t do one of them anymore.

Wincing, he unsnapped the bottom couple of snaps of the leather jacket he’d thrown on out of habit. Well, he hadn’t done the other for a while either. So that left the bike.

He took the corner too fast, sent the wheels shimmying over wet pavement. The sound of burning rubber soothed his soul. Out there with the wind in his hair and the rain slapping his cheeks, he couldn’t think about anything but the road in front of him and the handlebars in his locked fists. This was all that mattered. He wasn’t trying to find the bridge between who he’d been before baseball and who he was now. He absolutely didn’t care if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by doing what felt right. If maybe this time his gut was wrong. Maybe home wasn’t where he needed to be after all.

Out on the road, none of that held weight. In front of him wound the slick streets, puddles flashing with light from the slice of moon caught in a net of stars. Canopies of green leaves blocked the streetlights and humid air caressed every patch of exposed skin. Times like this he yearned to ride naked, so he could fully feel all that power and heat throbbing between his thighs.

A grin caught his lips. Now that would properly shock Cass. He almost wished he could do it for the sole purpose of earning her scandalized reaction.

He took the scenic route to her place, wanting to make sure he arrived late enough to give her time to finish her nightly routine. He’d promised to give her the space she required, and he intended to fulfill his promise. She had enough stress in her life. His presence wouldn’t add more, if he could help it.

By the time he pulled up behind Triple Scoop and cut the engine, the lights inside the ice cream shop were off, save the ones in the cases. He shouldered his bag and hopped off the bike, then took the stairs to her upstairs apartment two at a time. She’d only lived there a few months, after finally deciding to move out of her dad’s place next door to Jax’s family home.

Someone more suspicious than him might think she’d vacated the neighborhood as soon as he arrived, but he wasn’t that paranoid. Most of the time.

He reached the top of the stairs and looked over the small grassy lot, noting the neat flowerbeds that ringed the space and the motion detector lights that illuminated the nooks and crannies. New additions after her recent harassment? Nah, he decided after a moment. Cass was the type to have an alarm system and properly trimmed shrubs and security lighting anyway. She probably had one of those days-of-the-week pillboxes for her vitamins and condoms in every purse she owned.

Yeah, he’d skip thinking about her stocking up on extra protection. He’d only packed three Reader’s Digests, after all, and they’d go quickly since he only read them for the pictures.

Jax turned to the door, lifted his hand to knock. And stopped dead.

Through the narrow pane of glass in the door, he glimpsed a freshly showered Cass standing at the sink, sipping gold liquid from a crystal wineglass, her elegant fingers lightly cupping the stem. She’d coiled her riotous red hair in a bun on top of her head, and a few strands escaped to curl against her probably damp flesh. Her cheeks were still flushed from the hot water he knew she’d used. Cass’s long, hot showers were legendary in the Dixon household. Chase had spent his high school years bitching about how he’d get a warmer shower soaking at the car wash than he did in his own bathroom after Cass had taken a turn. And her skin was practically crimson right now, so Jax figured she’d soaped long and hard.

Hard was apparently the word of the hour.

Then there was the fuzzy pale pink robe tugged up to her chin and belted tight enough to cut off her circulation. It went all the way to her ankles, but her feet were bare and even pinker than the robe.

It shouldn’t have been enticing to see her naked toes digging into the soft mat in front of the sink. Nor should he have found it arousing the way her knuckles tensed around the glass as she tipped back her head to swallow every drop. Another curl broke free and fell down her back, unfurling like a damn ribbon. And the belt of the robe dangled down her thigh, an irrefutable tease.

Was she naked under there? Naked and warm and…wet?

She’d smell like vanilla and honey and lavender, the kind of scents that reminded a man more of home and hearth than red-hot sex. But he wasn’t the average man, and when she shifted her head and her slightly unfocused green eyes landed on his, all he could think about was bending her over her quaint little table and making her forget every list and schedule she’d ever devised.

Her lips parted around his name, and she quickly set aside the glass before motioning him inside. Then as if she’d remembered she’d locked up, she hurried forward and undid the locks before throwing open the door.

“Hi. You’re late.”

Arching a brow, he sidestepped her, using his bag as a crotch shield. If she saw the mammoth wood he was sporting at the sight of her in her robe, he’d be out on the curb faster than he could say interest-bearing IRA.

“I didn’t realize I had a set arrival time.”

“When you asked for the shop’s closing time, I assumed you’d arrive shortly after.”

“Yet you chose to hop into the shower. Interesting signals you’re sending there.”

Her flush was a reward all its own. She spun away to peer out the open door then looked over her shoulder at him in obvious puzzlement. “Where’s your sheepdog?”

“Aussie Shepherd,” he corrected. “I left her at home. We can ease into this. It’s not like I live far away.”

“No.” Hope flared across her face, the myriad lines of tension disappearing in a flash. “Are you reconsidering staying over? I wouldn’t be offended if you only stopped by for a while each night. In fact—” Before he could voice his objections to that plan, she broke off and pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Oh, you brought your bike.”

“I did,” he said slowly, puzzled by her reaction.

“It looks so big in the darkness. Hulking. I wondered if you’d bring it or your truck.”

“You want to go for a ride, Chanel?” The question came out huskier than he’d intended. From her panicked expression as she quickly dragged her gaze away, she’d obviously understood the double entendre.

“No.” But there was no mistaking the interest in that single word. For his bike, at the very least.

“Sure about that? I’ll go nice and slow for you, make sure you’re holding on for the turns. Give you lots of warning when we’re going up.” He studied her rigid posture and licked his lips. “Take my time going down.”

For a moment she said nothing. He wasn’t even sure she breathed. Then she whirled into motion. Slamming the door shut, flipping the locks. Carrying her glass to the sink and rinsing it before drying her hands briskly on a dishtowel. Avoiding looking his way throughout.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” she said when he didn’t move out of her way as she went about her tasks. “I’ve readied the guest room for you. Fresh sheets, fresh towel on the pillow. If you require anything else—”

“I’m not here for maid service. I’m here to keep you safe.” Stepping forward, he caught her chin, tipped it up. Under his fingers, she went to stone, cool and still. Not giving an inch. Wide, wary, green eyes settled on his. “I can find my own towels. Change my own sheets. What I can’t do is replace you.”

He hadn’t meant to make the speech, certainly not this early in the game. But he wanted to impress upon her that he wasn’t hanging around to be a pain in her rear. He cared about her. A little too much, maybe, but that was his problem. He was handling it.

Probably in her shower, truth be told.

When he would’ve bid her goodnight and gone to find his fresh towel—possibly to use as a blindfold so he wouldn’t have to see her looking so prim and proper and imminently fuckable—she stopped him with her fingers on his arm. She yanked them back almost as soon as their skin made contact, but hey, it was a start.

“I started the DVR.”

“Oh yeah?” He tried not to sound too interested. That was the kiss of death when it came to Cass Dixon.

“Yes. You don’t like Wheel of Fortune, do you?”

Not particularly. But since he was pretty sure that was her idea of a Pat Sajak-shaped olive branch, he merely shrugged. “Sure. Who doesn’t?”

“I’ll wait if you want to…get cleaned up.”

He couldn’t stop his quick grin. “Think that’ll take way past your bedtime, sweetness.”

“So stay dirty then. See if I care.”

Her impatience soothed the pit of worry in his stomach that had only grown since he’d stepped into this cheerful yellow kitchen with its tidy white curtains and red lacquered table. Being here in her apartment, smelling her scents, breathing her air, and knowing someone had dared to intrude upon her space—even with words—made violence brew dark and ugly inside him. He wasn’t vicious by nature, but it was only control leashing his fury now.

“Give me ten minutes.” Because he had to, he touched her cheek. Just a fast skim of fingers over skin ten times softer than it had any right to be.

Then he went to get clean.

She was in so much trouble.

Some people, like her best friend, Summer, would’ve argued it was good trouble. Long overdue trouble. Summer frequently lobbied for the importance of a good, hard bang in solving the world’s problems, and she indulged early and often.

But since she was now exclusively indulging with Cass’s big brother, her reasoning was suspect and not worthy of consideration.

It wasn’t that Cass didn’t agree about sex’s restorative powers. Clearly she did, hence her big whopping mistake with Can’t Keep It In His Pants Jackson. She’d just become wiser about the whole process. Last year had taught her that a moment on her hips became several months on everyone else’s lips. And if that was the case, that moment she spent on her back better be damn amazing.

When it came to Jason, she didn’t doubt it would be that and more. Which was why she couldn’t go there. Ever. Even in her mind. If she let that barrier slip, she’d be that much closer to assuming the wishbone position in his presence, and she had no intention of that happening.

“Conflict of interest,” she muttered, staring hard at the TV. There. That was a good excuse. He was her bodyguard. She was paying him. Or she would be, once they’d settled on a fee. He wasn’t allowed to give her orgasms in return for excellent service. That would be ri—

Wrong. So wrong.

“Hmm?” From his spot beside her on the couch, Jason cocked his brow. He did that an awful lot, she’d noticed. Not that she was checking him out often or anything. “Think you better whip out your Word-A-Day calendar there, darlin’, because there’s no way a ten letter word that begins with g and ends in n can be conflict of interest.”

Her cheeks flamed, but luckily in the dimly lit living room, he probably couldn’t tell. She fervently hoped. “Gargantuan.”

“So you do have a Word-A-Day calendar?”

“Two.” She gestured absently. “One in my home office. One in the shop’s office.” She didn’t mention her other calendar. He’d love that ammunition.

“You’re adorable.”

“Thanks for putting me in the same category as puppies and babies.”

“I have other words for you, but at least that one won’t get me punched.” After flashing her a grin, he glanced back at the TV.

“Like which ones?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Practical. Competent. Smart.”

She bit back a sigh. Here she’d worried her impulsive question would cause him to say inappropriate things. No worries there.

“What about me?” he asked when she didn’t reply.

“Big,” she replied without thinking, making him laugh behind his fist.

If he’d ever looked more impossibly large than he did while camped out on her small sofa, she didn’t remember it. He’d brought over a pair of flannel pajamas, the kind she imagined old men wore. Despite the fact that he’d buttoned every button and the waistline didn’t sag off his ass, he still had a physique that turned the worn flannel into something illicit. Hiding all that taut, toned flesh behind something so everyday and boring only increased the tease.

God, were his legs long. He’d propped them on the coffee table, which allowed her to see his bare feet. She wouldn’t even take a full look at them. Because once she did and she allowed herself to speculate what other parts of him were big too, she’d be…thinking the thoughts she was already thinking, in vivid Technicolor. Another few minutes and she’d add a soundtrack of moans.

Hers.

“I want ice cream. Do you want ice cream?” She popped to her feet, belatedly realizing the flap of her robe had gotten caught behind her knee and she was flashing him a lot of calf and knee action. She tugged it together and threw back her shoulders in a likely futile effort to project her usual calm. “I don’t have Moose Tracks up here, but I have vanilla bean.”

“That’s fine. Do you have that sauce stuff?”

Great. He wanted ordinary hot fudge and she was going to have to give him one of her aphrodisiac blends. It wasn’t a big deal. They didn’t have crushed oysters in them or anything. Still, did she really want to tip the scales in his favor?

Though the favor could go both ways…

Shaking off her prurient thoughts, she nodded. “Sure. White chocolate raspberry or mint dark chocolate?”

“How about both?”

That sounded kinda gross to her, but she knew better than to try to argue. She hurried off before he asked her to take out the oyster crackers for an appetizer.

When she returned, he’d changed the station from Wheel to some sort of drama. “The episode ended,” he explained as she shoved his ice cream dish at him. Then he smirked at the little wafer cookies she’d tucked on the edge of the glass. “Look at this presentation. Never off the clock, are you?”

“No. You’re eating my product, I should go to the effort to make sure it looks nice.”

“It does.” He started eating with obvious relish. “Tastes even better. You’re a whiz in the kitchen, Dixon.”

Pleased at the compliment—and at his usage of a nickname other than Chanel—she sat beside him and dug into her own small bowl of plain vanilla. She looked up at the screen as the blond secretary hiked up her skirt and hopped onto her sexy boss’s lap.

Uh, what the heck was this?

The spoonful of ice cream she’d slipped onto her tongue slid down her throat and she coughed. Jason didn’t seem to notice that she was choking, however, since the blond had removed her blouse and was now jockeying around on the guy’s lap like she was playing catch the salami between her thighs.

“What the hell are you watching?” Cass asked, unable to steady her tone.

“You’re swearing. Mrs. Beasley from the church choir won’t let you sing this Sunday with that mouth.”

“Of course I’m swearing. I don’t watch stuff like this. How is it on my TV? Did you bring in one of those illegal antennas?”

Jason scooped up more ice cream, turning the spoon around to suck on it as he regarded the screen. He didn’t appear to hear her. No wonder. Sexy boss was now sucking on the blond’s neck while palming her breasts, using his thumbs to sort of flick her nipples. From her moans, she liked it. A lot.

“Jax,” Cass snapped, shifting on the couch. “How did you find this?”

“It’s your movie channel. Don’t get shrill with me.” But he made no move to change it. “Do you think she’s faking it?”

“How the hell should I know? I’m not an expert on porn.”

“Wow, someone’s hot under the collar.” Jason shot her a sultry look. “Or just hot.”

“I’m not comfortable watching this.”

“You’re not supposed to be comfortable. It’s supposed to get you excited.” He crossed one leg over the other, angling his hips so that she couldn’t help but see the hard column of flesh outlined in the glow of the light from the TV.

She shifted again and stared hard at her ice cream. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Okay. Night-night.”

Something about his patronizing tone rooted her butt in place. “It’s not because I can’t handle watching…this.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can.” He nodded seriously and scooped up more of the sundae, drawing it off the spoon again. The soft sound he made as his tongue slipped off the ice cream shouldn’t have aroused her. It definitely shouldn’t have caused her to press her thighs together discreetly. “Though I’ve seen this before. It gets worse.”

“What? Then why are you watching it?”

He shrugged, flashed her a grin. A dab of ice cream lingered on his chin and she had the irrational urge to lick it off. “It’s one of the better ones on Skinemax.”

“Skinemax?” She chose the absolute wrong moment to glance at the TV. The blond was now on her knees and her mouth was busy. Noisily busy. Her pert little butt bounced with every pull of her lips. “I’m not paying for porn.”

“It’s the dirty version of the regular movie channel. Comes on late every night. It’s not hardcore or anything, don’t worry.”

“What the hell do you call this? She’s giving him a—” She broke off, breathed. No, she wasn’t going there. Jason and his hard penis knew exactly what it was.

For that matter, the achy, slick flesh between her thighs knew too.

“If it’s really bothering you that much, I’ll change it.” He reached for the remote. “Though if you stick with it, you’ll see the good part.”

She couldn’t help snorting. “Is that your idea of a good part or mine?”

“Watch and see.”

A moment later sexy boss tossed the blond on his desk and parted her thighs. He started licking her so enthusiastically that Cass nearly swallowed her spoon. Even though the action was more simulated than shown, Cass definitely got the full effect.

Oh God. That was hot. She’d obviously spent too long alone if something that objectified women was turning her on.

Consumed with the movements of the guy’s head, Cass dunked her spoon in the bowl of melting ice cream and shoved it away, somehow forgetting her lap wasn’t a table. Unsurprisingly, the bowl tumbled off her knee, hit her expensive Aubusson rug, and splashed both her and Jason with vanilla bean and erotic sauce.

Yet neither of them moved, because things were reaching a climax—loudly—onscreen. The woman arched, grasping her boss’s hair. He groaned, clearly loving it.

“That doesn’t happen,” Cass managed. “No guy loves oral sex that much unless he’s…” Breathe. “Unless he’s on the receiving end.”

“You think?” Jason continued to eat, calm as a kitten. Softly sucking, licking every drop off his spoon. “I think you’ve been with the wrong men, Chanel.”

“Of course you do.” She’d simply keep talking and try not to wiggle her butt on the sofa like a kid who had to pee. She had to prove to him she wasn’t some innocent prude.

Why she had to prove it, she had no idea. But all of a sudden, it seemed vital.

The woman rocketed upward, orgasming with a wild cry that made Cass’s stomach clench. She was so wrapped up in what was happening on screen that she didn’t feel the flicking against her ankle until she glanced down and saw Ming lapping up the ice cream on top of her foot.

“Gah.” She jumped up so fast that Jason leaped up too, tossing aside his bowl of ice cream as he searched for the source of the threat.

“What? What is it?” he asked in an undertone, eyes scanning the room. “My gun’s in the fucking bedroom.”

She picked up her cat and turned to him, aghast. “Gun? You have a gun in my home?” She shook Ming in his face. “What’re you going to do? Shoot my pussy?”

It was her lame attempt at a joke, though she was annoyed at the idea of him being armed. Yes, he was a bodyguard. Yes, she’d attacked his lack of weapons training. Yes, she’d received threatening letters. But guns were dangerous. They took her problems out of the realm of an annoying hassle into something frightening.

He stared at her, his high cheekbones highlighted by the flickering TV. Moans and groans filled the room and hours seemed to pass while his eyes probed hers. “I didn’t even think you knew that word.”

It took her a moment, a long one, to get his meaning. She was still stuck on the gun in her country chic guest bedroom and the porn on her screen—and let’s not forget the ice cream stuck between her toes. But when she figured it out, she stumbled back, holding her now wriggling cat between them like a shield.

This whole night had been one screw-up after another. First she’d taken a shower while waiting for him. Big mistake. Her robe covered her from head to toe and she had her nightgown on underneath, but maybe it sent the wrong signals. Too bad if she’d had a rough night at work and needed the relief of a hot shower.

When a bodyguard moved in, comfort went out the window. So did sanity.

He hadn’t said much about the threats against her so far, but the caveman look in his eyes had made her shiver. And she hadn’t even told him about finding the inside door that led from her shop to her apartment unlocked this morning. That breach into her home’s inner sanctum had been the final straw to contact him, yet she hadn’t been able to say the words. Because she knew once she crossed that barrier, all of this would become scarily real. He wouldn’t settle for bringing in a duffle bag of stuff. He’d move in his dog and maybe his other partner too. Camp out on the terrace with a shotgun and snarl at her patrons. Anything to keep her safe. He wouldn’t settle for her explanation that she’d been tired and stressed out lately and might have forgotten to lock up.

She wasn’t settling for it either. Hence why she wasn’t as reluctant to have him there as she had been that afternoon. Now she knew he had a gun in her home and that he liked porn, and she wasn’t nearly as offended by either of those things as she should’ve been.

She was trying, really hard, to be mad about something. Anything. Standing there staring back at him while her mouth worked like a guppy’s and her mind whirled wasn’t helping matters.

“I know lots of words.” As parting shots went, it sucked. As did fleeing the room with her cat.

Especially when she got halfway to her bedroom and realized she’d taken off without saying goodnight, which wasn’t polite in light of the fact he was trying to save her life. Even if it wasn’t really in danger. Plus, the damn ice cream was still soaking into her rug since she’d completely forgotten to clean up before she left.

Face hot, she went back to the living room, only to see him scrubbing the carpet with a couple of napkins. And all the while, he watched the TV over his shoulder. Avidly.

It made her laugh so hard that Ming yelped and streaked away to hide under a chair. She’d regret it in the morning when she had to lure the already recalcitrant Siamese out from her new spot with real tuna.

Jason cast her a sharp look. “What’s so funny?”

Shaking her head, Cass headed down the hall to the kitchen to get some wet paper towels. “You men are all the same.”

The problem was they weren’t. Jason wasn’t. And that officially put him in a category even more lethal than the gun in her guest bedroom.