“Michael’s calling,” Kate said as she looked down at her cell phone. Connor and Kate had been roaming the streets of the city for about thirty minutes after Kate had witnessed Michael’s kiss. “I don’t feel like talking to him right now.” She shoved her phone back into her purse.

Connor’s cell began buzzing as soon as Kate’s had stopped. “I have to answer it. He’s the boss.” He shrugged. “What’s up?”

Kate bit her thumb and took a seat on a nearby bench. She tried to ignore the pain that pooled in her stomach, ready to crash down like a tidal wave, to knock her off her feet. She looked up at Connor, who had stepped away to talk to Michael in private.

Connor was grimacing when he approached her. “He wants to see you,” he said, shoving the phone into the back pocket of his board shorts.

Kate jumped to her feet. “No. I don’t feel like seeing him right now. Come on, let’s get a drink.”

“It’s eleven in the morning.” He reached for her arm. “Kate, Michael isn’t the guy you say ‘no’ to.” He tilted his head in a beckoning motion. “Please. You don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?” A small smile threatened his lips, though.

He was trying to manipulate her. There was no way this ex-military badass was afraid of Michael. “Connor, I—I can’t face him. Okay?”

“He won’t be happy about this.” He reached for his phone and sent Michael a text. He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. “You win. It’ll be my head, but I aim to please you, madam.” His eyes lit up like those of a mischievous young boy. “I have an idea. Follow me.”

The touch of his rough hand against hers made her feel unfaithful. But she knew that was totally crazy. What was there to be faithful to? Frustrated with herself, she tightened her grip on Connor’s hand and allowed him to lead the way.

“There’s a great dive bar a few blocks away. We can throw some darts and drink a few beers. They should be opening about now.”

He was definitely right about the dive part, she realized when they stepped inside. The bar looked like something out of the Blue Lagoon. It was a tropical paradise for men with scruffy beards and women with tattoos. It was not her typical hangout place, which was why it was perfect. The last thing she wanted was to be typical Kate. Of course, ever since she’d come to Charlotte she’d become almost someone different.

“I love it,” she exclaimed as they sat down at the bar. She attempted to ignore the fact that the black leather stool was a tad sticky.

“Two Coronas with lime,” Connor ordered.

“I don’t drink beer . . . but what the hell, first time for everything.”

“This will be your first Corona?”

Kate decided that the shock on his face was rather cute. “Yes.” When he handed her the bottle, they clinked their glasses together, and she took a sip. She attempted to hide her obvious distaste for the gold liquid, but judging by the huge smirk on Connor’s face, she failed.

He grinned at her and motioned for the bartender. “Can you make a mimosa for the lady?”

Kate’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s a little more my speed.”

“You should do that more often,” he said before raising the bottle to his mouth.

“Do what?”

“Smile,” he said over his shoulder and drank his beer.

“You, too. You have a great smile.” When her drink arrived, she took an eager sip and looked around the bar. “So, tell me about yourself.”

He ran a hand over his short brown beard, and his pale green eyes turned a shade darker. Kate waited for him to speak, but she wondered if she had hit some invisible mute button. “Connor?” She reached for his shoulder and rested her hand on it. “You okay?” she whispered, sensing the unspoken tension in his body. She never expected that such a casual question would prove to be such a difficult one.

He cleared his throat and looked up at her. “I don’t have much of a story.” His voice gave her a chill colder than the Arctic. Gone was the carefree, charming companion—in his place was now an aloof stranger. He reminded her a little of Michael, in that way. Warm one minute and steel the next. Of course, steel could get hot pretty quick. “Connor, you don’t need to tell me anything. You don’t owe me your story. I was just making conversation.” She released her hand from his shoulder and looked down at her drink.

“Kate, Michael trusts me to keep you safe, but I think most of us—those who spent a lot of time in the Middle East—well, we don’t like to talk about our past. We don’t like talking about ourselves all too much. Michael and I are kind of fucked up, to tell you the truth. Afghanistan was the breaking point for us.” He took a swig of beer. “I think he’s a bit more messed up, though,” he said with a smile, attempting to lighten the mood. “I try to be a happy-go-lucky guy, in spite of everything, but Michael, well he . . .”

Kate was curious to hear more, but Connor was looking at something behind her. She swiveled around to see what had grabbed his attention.

Michael, wearing his powerhouse, three-piece suit, was standing at the entrance of the bar. He looked even more out of place than she did.

He crossed the room in a few long strides. “Kate,” he gruffly said. “We need to talk.” His eyes were focused on hers, ignoring Connor’s presence.

“How’d you find us?” Kate mumbled as she stood.

“Never mind that.” He directed his heated gaze Connor’s way. “What were you thinking having her leave the loft?”

“Oh come on, she’s fine.” Connor stayed seated and finished his beer.

“I’ll bring her back to my place. Jake will be there at two—come over then.”

Kate looked up at Michael, a shiver darting up her spine. “Bye Connor. Thanks for the drink.”

Connor raised his brows at her and grimaced in apology. Did he feel bad for getting her into trouble?

Michael rested his hand on the small of her back and nudged her forward. She wouldn’t normally allow a guy to boss her around, but he was trying to help her, so she let it slide this time.

Kate had to blink a few times as they exited from the dim bar and burst into the bright, sunlit outside.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked while folding her arms.

“What were you doing in there with him? Is there something going on between you two?” They stopped walking, and he turned to face her, ignoring the small audience of pedestrians that subversively observed the scene as they walked by.

If it were possible, her jaw would have hit the ground. It would have come unhinged and plummeted. “You’re crazy.” She leaned against the brick building next to the dive bar.

“Kate.” He ruffled his hair, pieces sticking out, making him look a little disheveled, and she had to assume that was a new look for him. She was sure he was used to being in control and composed at all times.

“What you saw earlier—” he began in a low voice.

“Was none of my business,” she said with a little more fire to her voice than she had meant to.

She pushed away from the wall and attempted to walk away, but he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. “What?” she rasped, hating that she was still hurting from seeing him kiss that other woman.

“Kate.” His voice was a plea. “Come on, let’s talk at my place.” He motioned for her to follow him, and she agreed. Where else did she have to go?

* * *

They walked the six blocks back to his home in silence. When the elevator doors opened, she rushed out.

“What’s your problem?”

She pivoted back around and walked toward him, failing to mask her look of total madness. “I don’t have a problem. I was perfectly fine having a drink with Connor until you showed up, looking like the Hulk.”

If he weren’t so angry, he would have laughed.

He chucked his keys on the hall table. “Can we talk?” He took off his blazer and tossed it on the recliner as he moved toward the living area. He unbuttoned his black vest and threw it off, as well.

She ignored his question and went out onto the balcony.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he said, taking a seat on one of the lounge chairs. He crossed his ankle over his knee, his slacks stretching over his quads. He rolled up the sleeves of his black collared shirt and drummed his fingers on his knees.

She finally turned around so he could chance a look at her eyes—to see the expression on her face. She was hurting. This is exactly what he didn’t want happening.

“You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“It sure as hell feels like I do,” he bit back. He shut his eyes, trying to calm the hot thread of frustration that spun through him, winding him up.

“Michael, I don’t care about some pretty redhead. Kiss whoever you want.”

He let out a slow breath as he opened his eyes. His attention wandered to her lips. She was the only one he was in the mood to kiss. Didn’t she know that? “She kissed me. I didn’t expect it, and I didn’t want it.”

“Who is she?” she asked meekly a minute later.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to reassure her. They both knew they couldn’t be together. They couldn’t play by each other’s rules, so why were they even having this conversation? Why did he need to explain himself, to show her . . . what? That he’d been faithful? He groaned and looked over her shoulder and at the hotel across the street.

“Who is she?” she asked again, her voice raw.

“She’s no one of concern to you.” And he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about this anymore, that was for damn sure.

“Because women kiss you on the street all the time?” She paused. “Or do they? Damn you and your superhuman good looks.” Her shoulders slouched forward as she turned away from him. “I remember her from your office,” she added a few moments later in a somber voice. “And she was in one of the photos my stalker sent me. She must mean something to you. I thought you never got involved with—

“She’s an old friend. Now, let’s drop it.” He stood and came up alongside her, joining her at the railing. Together, they stared down at the street. “I don’t feel like getting into all of this with you. I want to help you find the bastard who is stalking you, and I promised I would help you find your mother’s killer. Can we focus on that for now?” Please, for the love of God.

“Fine. I can forget the way you feel inside me. If you can,” she commented as her blue-green eyes dipped south of his hips, before slowly moving back up to his face.

Not fucking fair.

She started to turn away, but his arm banded around her waist, and he pulled her back. Her body was an inch from his, and her face so close. “You’re making me lose my damn mind. You know that, right?”

Her pink lips parted, her eyes still holding his. He swept his hand to the back of her head and brought her mouth to his.

And she returned his kiss, allowing his tongue entry to her mouth.

Without thinking, he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around him—where she belonged.

With his lips locked onto hers, he carried her into the house before slamming the glass doors shut.

He would never make it to a room. Still holding her, he tapped a button by the door, and the automatic blinds began to close. “God, I need you,” he hoarsely said as he set her down.

And she must have wanted him, too, because she lifted her dress over her head and tossed it in one fast movement.

She was standing in nude panties and a beige lace bra, her hard nipples poking through the thin material. He came at her so quickly that she stumbled back and landed on the couch. A smile met her lips as she looked up at him, sinking her teeth into her lip. The woman was torturing him.

He knelt before her, his fingers skirting up the sides of her toned thighs before reaching for her hips, pulling her closer to him, to his mouth.

She braced each side of his shoulders when he pushed her panties out of the way, his tongue darting to her wet flesh.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered a second later as the elevator buzzed.

“Oh, God,” she shrieked.

He released his hold on her and stood as she grinned.

“Perfect timing.”

She rose to her feet, still in heels, and slipped her dress back over her shoulders.

“Tell me about it.” He shifted the material of his pants, hoping to calm his hard on. “Thank God I didn’t give the guys access to my place yet. I’d have to kill them if they saw you naked.” He grimaced at the thought.

“Last time I checked, you don’t have exclusive rights to my nudity. Just an F.Y.I.” She smirked, but the realization of her words hit him hard. “Will you kill every man who sees me naked?”

“I wouldn’t test me,” he grumbled.