The image made her shiver.
"I know," she said, mimicking his earlier statement.
The corner of his shamelessly luscious mouth lifted in a half smile. "So… are you telling me that I'm not romance hero material because I don't install security systems?"
He was romance hero material, all right. At least on the outside. And in bed.
"I didn't say that." Stacey shrugged lamely and dragged her gaze back to the television. It was torture to look away from all that golden skin, but it was self-preservation, too. "I'm just saying that I wouldn't expect guys such as you and Aidan to be interested in hunting down old stuff for old guys with too much money. I'd think you would be bored after all the… excitement of what you used to do."
"The Black Market isn't without danger," he said softly.
"Anytime different people want the same thing, it can get ugly. If they want it bad enough, it can get deadly."
She glanced at him. "Doesn't sound like a dream job."
Connor's lips pursed a moment, then he said, "In my family, we all join the military. It's a given."
"Really?"
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug, which did wonderful things to his pectorals. "Really."
"So you never had something else you wanted to do?"
"I never considered anything else."
"That's sad, Connor."
The sound of his name spoken in her voice shocked them both. Stacey could tell it affected him, because he blinked rapidly and looked a little confused. For her part, she knew that the way she was thinking about him was far from friendly. It was obscene. She wanted to lick and nibble on all his yummy looking skin. His dark honey-hued hair was a little too long, curling over his nape and around the tops of his ears. She wanted to touch it. Run her fingers through it.
"What's your dream?" he asked, his intimate tone drawing her deeper under his spell. He gestured with his chin toward the dining table where her ridiculously expensive textbooks sat ignored. "Are you working toward it now?"
She almost said "yes" as part of her positive thinking overhaul she was working on. Instead, she revealed something she'd never even told Lyssa. "I wanted to be a writer," she confessed.
Twin brows raised in visible surprise. "A writer? What kind of writer?"
Stacey felt her face heat. "A romance writer."
"Really?" Now it was his turn to sound shocked. He did it really well, too.
"Yep."
"What happened?"
"Life happened."
"Huh…" He straightened, then startled her by stilling her fingers, which were restlessly spinning a fortune cookie around. The feel of his touch was warm and comforting. His hand was so large; it dwarfed hers. The man was at least twice her size, and yet he could be so gentle. "That's the last thing I would have guessed you would say."
"I know."
"You're so practical."
"I wish."
"Did you give up your dream?"
She stared at their physical connection, his skin so much darker than hers, the knuckles dusted with barely discernable golden strands of hair. "Sure. It was silly anyway."
Connor couldn't think of what to say to Stacey's dismissal of something that was obviously important to her. He wasn't a Nurturer or a Healer, and he wasn't a man who spent time talking to women. At least not words that weren't for the purposes of seduction. When women came to him, it wasn't conversation they wanted. The best he could manage in the way of comfort was to stroke the center of Stacey's soft palm with his callused thumb.
The chaste contact aroused him. When he brushed lower, across the pulse point in her wrist, the rapid beat of her heart betrayed how it aroused her, too. Neither of them acted upon the attraction, despite their quickening breaths. He was content to simply enjoy the soft thrumming of desire in his blood. Then the phone rang and broke the moment.
She blinked, as if waking, then pushed to her feet. "Aidan called earlier when you were sleeping. It's probably him again."
Connor rose as well and followed her into the kitchen. Stacey picked up the handset, revealing the caller ID. Best Western Big Bear. The tension that gripped Stacey's small frame was palpable.
She hit the "talk" button and lifted the receiver to her ear. "Hi, baby."
He placed his hands on her slight shoulders and began to knead gently, fighting the tightening that threatened to knot the muscles.
"But you have school," she began, which resulted in a long barrage of argument from the other end of the line. "Yes, I know it's been a long time…" Her chest expanded and collapsed on a silent sigh. "Fine. You can come home Monday night."
The excitement elicited by Stacey's capitulation was audible through the receiver.
"Okay." She tried valiantly to sound cheerful. "I'm glad you're having a great time… I love you, too. Keep warm. Wear that scarf Lyssa bought you for Christmas." She managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, who knew you'd actually use the damn thing? Of course… Don't worry about me; I'm watching The Mummy… At least a hundred times, yes. So what? It's a good flick! Okay… Goodnight… Love you."
She hung up and the arm holding the handset fell to her side in a defeatist gesture.
"Hey," Connor murmured, caressing the length of her arm until he reached the phone. He tugged it from nerveless fingers and set it on the breakfast bar. "It's okay. He'll be back soon."
"That's just it," she said, turning to face him only because he caught her shoulders and forced her to. "I don't know if he will come back, or if he'll stay with me when he does."
He stared down at her unhappy face with its pink-tipped nose and turned down mouth. Cupping her cheek, he brushed his thumb across her cheekbone.
"He's fourteen years old," she said mournfully. "He wants a dad, a man he can emulate and learn from. Tommy lives in Hollywood, where it's glamorous and there's something going on every minute. Justin hates it here in the Valley. He says it's boring, and for kids his age, I know it is. I moved to Murrieta because it was cheap at the time-I could buy a house and save on my taxes-and because it's quiet. There isn't much around here that can lure a teenage boy into trouble."
"See?" he said. "A practical woman, just as I said."
A brave woman. A strong woman. A woman he admired.
She faked a smile and it hit him like a punch to the gut. He hated the façade for his benefit. He wanted her all, the real deal. Connor Bruce, best known as "the guy with whom you don't get emotional," wanted Stacey's emotions.
"If Tommy decides he wants to try being a father full-time," she continued tearfully, "Justin will go. Tommy is as much a kid as Justin; they'd have a blast together."
Her head fell forward, hiding her features in a mass of dark curls. "Tommy would probably sue me for child support, too, which would make his life easier. And even if he didn't, I would still send them money. God only knows how they would eat otherwise. One meal a day on the set? if Tommy's lucky enough to be working for once!"
A soft sob rent the air and Connor did the only thing he could do; he caught her chin in his fingers and lifted her mouth to fit his kiss. It was a gentle offer of comfort, just lips, no tongue. He took nothing from her and offered consolation the only way he knew how. "You're getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart," he murmured, nuzzling her nose with his.
"I'm sorry." Stacey kissed him back, tiny kisses. Sweet kisses. "I'm a basket case today. Hormones or something. I swear I am not normally like this."
"It's okay."
Surprisingly, it was.
Stepping back slightly, Connor bent and caught her up behind the knees and lifted her into his arms. He carried her out of the dining room and back into the living room, where he sank into the down-filled couch with her in his lap. She fit perfectly there, her lush body settling warmly against his bare skin. He tucked her head under his chin and rocked her.
Taking and giving. The connection he'd sought and needed so desperately earlier, reestablished without sex and yet strengthened by their earlier frantic mating. Having gotten the animal lust out of the way, they'd exposed the other feelings, laying them out in the open between them. Understood and shared.