She got spunky.
Cocking her hip to lean into the door edge, she flashed a bright smile. "Hi."
Bright, azure eyes widened, then narrowed.
"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded, his voice rumbling with a burr that was charming and delicious, even though his attitude wasn't.
"Nice to meet you, too."
"You're not Lyssa Bates," he rumbled.
"Damn. What gave me away? The short hair? The big butt?" She snapped her fingers. "I got it! I'm not drop-dead gorgeous and built like a brickhouse."
The corner of his luscious mouth twitched. He tried to hide it, but she saw it. "Honey, you're gorgeous and built, but you're not Lyssa Bates."
Stacey touched her nose, knowing that she had to be looking like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and sporting bloodshot eyes to boot. Some women looked great when they cried. She wasn't one of them. And built? Ha! She'd had a kid. Nothing was where it used to be and she'd never dropped the last ten pounds from her pregnancy. Unable to think of a witty comeback because her brain was fried by his maybe-a-compliment, maybe-a-joke, she said, "Lyssa's out of town. I'm watching things for her while she's gone."
"Is Cross here?" He looked easily over her head and into the condo.
"Who?"
He looked back down at her, frowning. "Aidan Cross. He lives here."
"Uh, yeah. But if you think he'd let Lyssa go anywhere without him, you're nuts."
"True." Something passed through his eyes as he looked at her.
Jeez, she had to go on vacation to wherever the hell Aidan was from. Obviously Hunkalicious on the porch was from there, too. Same brogue. Same sword fetish. Same hotness level.
"I'm going to stay here until they get back," he pronounced, taking a step forward.
Stacey didn't budge. "No way."
He crossed his arms. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm not in the mood to play games. I feel like shit. I need to crash for a while."
"Listen, babe," she retorted, mimicking his pose. "I'm not playing. Sorry you feel like crap, but my day sucks, too. Go crash somewhere else."
She watched his jaw tighten. "Aidan wouldn't want me staying anywhere else."
"Oh yeah? He didn't say anything to me about anyone coming by. I don't know you from Adam."
"Connor Bruce." He thrust a massive hand at her. She hesitated a moment, then took it. The heat of his palm burned her skin and spread tingles up her arm. She blinked.
"Stacey Daniels."
"Hi, Stacey." He tugged her into his chest, lifted her feet from the tile, and stepped into the condo, kicking the door shut behind them.
"Hey!" she protested, trying to ignore how delicious he smelled. Musky and exotic. Male. Sexual male. Dominant male. It made her want to bury her face in his powerful neck and breathe him in. Wrap her legs around his hips and rub up against him. Absolutely bizarre considering how pissed off at him she was.
"It stinks outside," he complained. "I'm not standing out there anymore."
"You can't just barge in here!"
"Sure, I can."
"Okay, you can. That doesn't mean you should."
Connor paused in the living room and looked around. Then he set her down, lifted his sword-holder-thingy over his head, and leaned it against the wall near the door.
"I'm going to bed." He stretched his arms and back in a pose that made her mouth water.
"It's still morning!"
"So? Don't touch that." He pointed to his sword, then turned toward the stairs.
"Fuck you." Stacey set her hands on her hips and glared.
He paused with one booted foot on the lower step. His gaze dropped to her bare feet, then rose slowly and hotly all the way back up, stopping at the juncture between her legs, then her breasts, before lingering over her lips and meeting her eyes. She'd never been stripped bare like that before in her life. She swore he'd looked right through her low-slung jeans and tank top to the skin below. Her breasts swelled, her nipples hardened. Without a bra-hey, she wasn't expecting company-it was obvious his perusal had turned her on.
"I'm tempted, darling." His brogue was thick and warm. "But I'm in no condition to do you justice right now. Ask me again when I wake up."
Her foot tapped on the carpet. "I'm not your honey, sweetheart, or darling. And if you go upstairs, I'm calling the police."
Connor grinned, which transformed his features from too-hot-to-handle to absolutely divine. "Sure thing. Make sure they bring handcuffs…and leave them behind."
"They won't be leaving you behind!" How in hell could the man make her hot and bothered and hot under the collar at the same time?
"Call Aidan," he suggested, climbing the stairs. "Or Lyssa. Tell them Connor's here. See ya later."
Running over to the stairs, Stacey prepared to yell up at him. Instead she found herself admiring his perfect ass. Her mouth snapped shut. She hustled to the kitchen and picked up the phone. A minute later, the odd phone-ring-ing-in-a-bucket sound told her the call was connecting to the hotel in Rosarito Beach, Mexico.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Doc." Climbing on to one of the barstools, Stacey snatched a pen out of the pen holder and began to doodle on the drawing pad by the cordless phone's base. She had to flip past several flawless renderings of Aidan in order to find a blank page. Most doctors had the worst handwriting. Lyssa was a veterinarian, but she had an amazing talent for drawing.
"Hey, Stace," Lyssa greeted, sounding relieved.
Stacey still hadn't figured out what it was that had Lyssa so stressed out. After years of looking run down and emotionally bereft, Lyssa had blossomed after reuniting with Aidan. She'd put on much needed weight and seemed more rested. But she also seemed anxious in a way that concerned Stacey no small amount. She worried that it might have something to do with Aidan. Maybe the fear that he wouldn't stick around? After all, the man had left Lyssa at some point and then come back for her.
"Are you okay, Doc?"
"Yes. Great. It's beautiful here."
Hearing the wary tone fade into dreamy, Stacey set aside her concern for her friend and returned her thoughts to her own dilemma. "Awesome. Hey, I've got a problem. Do you know a guy named Connor?"
"Connor?"
"Yeah, Connor. Big, blond, bad attitude?"
"Oh my god… How do you know what he looks like?"
Stacey sighed. "So you do know him. I don't know if I'm relieved or bummed."
"Stacey. How do you know what Connor looks like?" Lyssa's voice now sounded the way it did when she had to explain a terminal illness to a patient's owner.
"He's here, Doc. Showed up about ten minutes ago and made himself at home. I told him to find another place to shack up, but-"
"No! Don't let him out of your sight!"
Jerking back from the handset, Stacey scowled down at the receiver, listening to the conversation from a safe distance since Lyssa was now shouting excitedly.
"He's Aidan's best friend… might get lost… don't let him leave… Stacey, are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here," she replied, lifting the phone back up to her ear with a harsh exhale. "You know, the guy is hot as hell, but he's a real pain in the ass. Bossy and arrogant. Rude. JB is tough enough to live with, but two jerks at once?"
"I'll give you a raise," Lyssa cajoled.
"Right. I'm making more money than you now, I think." Not really, but they both knew she was overpaid. Lyssa was way too generous. "Seriously, I can handle him." I want to handle him, all over. That was part of the problem. She was always attracted to the wrong sort of guys. Always had been.
"Don't take it personally. They're all kind of… abrupt where Aidan comes from," Lyssa said.
"Which is where exactly?" Stacey had been trying to pin down a location for months.
"Somewhere by Scotland, I think."
"You still haven't asked him?"
"It's not important," Lyssa dismissed. "Aidan ran up to the liquor store for a six-pack, but when he gets back, he'll call and talk to Connor. I'll ask him to speak to him about proper politeness, okay?"