He almost laughed out loud. As John had said, successful reconnaissance missions had a way of getting a guy's juices flowing. Combine that with the fact that it had been a long time since he'd been within belly-rubbing distance of a woman—even before the South American detail had come un—and any woman would look good to him, never mind a hot little number like Lily Morrisette. Just give him the chance to rectify the sexual limbo he'd been in, though, and she'd likely lose whatever small hold she had over his senses.
He kept that thought firmly in mind when Lily sashayed into view, all cotton-candy hair and swinging hips as she strutted toward the archway. Still his temperature cranked another notch higher. Then, just as he was thinking he'd better start trolling the bars pretty damn soon, Lily glanced up from the tiny handbag into which she dropped her keys.
With a little yelp of surprise she stopped in her tracks, a splayed hand slapping the full swell of her breasts. A half dozen narrow gold bangles clinked and jingled as they slid down her arm from wrist to forearm. Her eyes locked with Zach's.
"You startled me!" she exclaimed breathlessly, and more jingling ensued as her hand patted her chest as if to contain a racing heart. "I didn't realize anyone was here." Then she jerked her gaze away and glanced at Rocket, offering him a tentative smile.
It pushed all Zach"s buttons, and he laughed harshly. "Right," he snarled. "Like you can't smell fresh meat a block away." Jesus, what an actress He jerked his head toward Rocket. "So meet John. He can't afford you."
You would have thought he'd pissed in the middle of a tea party, the way she looked at him. Without a word, she turned on her heel and walked away.
His blood flat-out boiled. How did she do it? How did she make him feel as if he was in the wrong when he knew damn good and well that she was the one playing all the angles?
"So that's Lily, huh?"
Zach blew out a breath and turned to look at his friend. "Yeah."
" Hoo –ahh," Rocket breathed. "Now that's lethal stuff." He reached over to punch Zach on the arm. "But my money's on you, buddy. You'll have her disarmed in no time." He cocked a dense black eyebrow. "That is, if you start thinking with something besides your dick. What's the matter with you, anyway? I've never seen you like this, never heard you be anything but polite to a woman, no matter what her agenda. You gotta quit letting this one mess with your head."
Then he bared his teeth. "Lucky for you, you've got me at your back. You've established you're the bad guy. Now it's time for ol' brother John to see what he can learn."
Chapter 4
LILY WAS PANTING IN ABSOLUTE FURY BY THE TIME she closed the door at her back. He was a pig ! A pig, a pig, a pig ! Where did he get off treating her like that?
Well, he won. She'd pack her bags and start looking for another place this afternoon. It just chapped her hide to let him run her off this way, but she couldn't take it any more. She simply wasn't built for this kind of confrontation.
Unlike last night, when she'd thrown everything she owned into her case, she began gathering together only the nonessentials she could live without for a while, so she'd be ready to move at a moment's notice. But she made a face as she retrieved her luggage from the closet. This was way too reminiscent of her life growing up, when a year rarely went by without her restless parents telling her to pack her things because they were moving on. She'd learned at a young age never to get too comfortable in any one place, so heaven knew she had a decent grasp on what was necessary in order to get by for a day or two, and what were just extras.
She'd really thought all that was finally behind her, though. Until her apartment went condo, she'd lived in the same place for seven years, a record for someone who had gone to eleven different schools in six different states—and that wasn't counting two culinary schools. When Glynnis invited her to stay in this lovely ocean-front home, she'd appreciated it more than she could say and had truly hoped her next move would be her last. Ideally, when she found her restaurant, it would combine a living area with the commercial space. She'd planned to search for the perfect spot as soon as she got back from her next cruise.
Lily gave herself a mental shake. Well, sometimes things didn't work out; no one knew that better than she. That didn't mean she intended to go off half-cocked and storm out without a plan. Mimi would undoubtedly let her camp out on her couch for a few days, but she wanted to reserve that option as a last resort. First, she'd check out the ads to see what was available without a lease.
Merely thinking about it made her tired, though, so she flipped open her luggage on the bedspread and began filling it. She'd start with something a little less stressful.
She was piling most of her collection of pretty lingerie into one corner of the case, thinking she really ought to rummage through the three-car garage for some boxes, when her gaze was caught by an envelope sticking up out of one of the suitcase's little gathered pockets.
Her hands stilled for a moment over the heap of silkies and lace. Funny, she didn't remember tucking anything away in there. Then she shrugged. It was probably an old greeting card that had gotten swept up and tossed wily-nilly into the case when she was snatching up stuff last night. Since she rarely hung on to things— a habit left over from her days of keeping extras to a minimum—it was likely not even hers.
She was just reaching for it to check it out when a knock sounded at the door. She whirled to face it, the card promptly forgotten. "Go away," she snapped, her heart renewing its pounding rhythm as if it had never slowed down. "I'm through talking to you."
"It's John Miglionni, ma'am. Please. I won't take up much of your time, but I'd like to speak to you for a moment."
She crossed the room and yanked the door open. Folding her arms militantly beneath her breasts, she glared up at the man on the other side of the threshold. "What makes you think I'm interested in anything you have to say?" Then she blinked. She'd been so furious with Zach earlier she'd barely gotten more than a quick impression of his friend. Seeing John clearly for the first time, she murmured, "What is this place, anyhow, Testosterone Central?"
Then she gave him a second, closer inspection and wasn't sure where that first impression had come from. He didn't look so tough. He was an inch or two over six feet, and aside from muscular shoulders, looked as lean and lanky as a young Jimmy Stewart beneath his pricey silver-gray silk T-shirt and impeccably pressed black slacks. Even the brawny shoulders appeared somehow less powerful than she'd first thought when she looked at him slouched against the doorframe.
He was dark-skinned and had hair so black and shiny it contained blue highlights even in the dim hallway. He wore its thick length pulled back in a ponytail, a style that accented his high cheekbones, hawklike nose, and the spare angularity of his face. But it was his dark eyes and smile that grabbed her—both were as bashful and self-effacing as a monk's.
"I don't know about the testosterone," he said softly, "but I do want to apologize for Zachariah. He's been under a lot of pressure lately, and he's worried sick about his little sister, but that's no excuse to treat you so rudely. He was completely out of line, and I told him so."
His soft-spoken apology was balm to her offended sensibilities, and her combative pose eased. "That's very gallant of you."
He ducked his head. "Not at all, ma'am. Zach's insinuations were insulting, and I wanted you to know that although he's my friend I don't endorse his behavior." Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and shot her a glance full of shy, male interest. "Are you from around here?"
The movement starkly defined the sinews of his arms for a moment, and Lily realized there was more muscle to him than she'd thought. Silky black hair feathered his forearms, and a small patch of color on his left one caught her attention. "I guess you could say I'm from everywhere," she admitted slowly, shooting what was undoubtedly a tattoo a covert glance to see if she could figure out what it depicted. "But for the past seven years I've lived in—" Sudden comprehension chopped her sentence in two.