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and if I admit to being Luc Macanaw, will that make you Corinne D’Alessandro?”
    “That depends on how you know Reggie and Misha and whether or not you can show me some form of ID.”
    Ah, New Yorkers. Luc hadn’t spent all that much time in Ithir, but it didn’t take long to recognize a native of this mortal island. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet full of the little details humans found so important. He kept it at Rafe’s house for his occasional visits. “Driver’s license?”
    “It’s a start.”
    She didn’t approach, so he tossed the wallet to her and watched as she flipped it open and examined the small, plastic card that bore his photo. Her eyebrows shot up. “Lucifer?” she read. “No wonder you introduced yourself as Luc.”
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    She spent a minute looking from the photo to Luc and back again before she closed the wallet with a snap and tossed it back to him. He assumed that he passed inspection, because this time when she met his gaze, hers looked warm and playful and assessing. He watched her hips sway gently as she crossed the short distance between them and fitted her key into the door.
    “It’s too bad Regina sent you over here,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the lock. “I was hoping you were a present from Ava. You’re just the sort of Fantasy Fix I could learn to enjoy.”

    * * * * *
Corinne really hoped Luc couldn’t see how badly her hands trembled as she unlocked her door and led the way into her apartment. It wasn’t just because she found it damned embarrassing, but because she didn’t want him scared off by her intense desire to throw him down and have her way with him right in the middle of the hallway. She’d never wanted a man this fast or this badly before, but Luc made a heck of an exception to her rule.
    When she had turned down the hallway to her apartment, her thoughts still centered on the story of her nightmares and the ridiculous interviews she would have to conduct tomorrow if she ever hoped to get it off her desk and onto Hank’s. So the last thing she expected to see in front of her doorway was a man fully engaged in breaking and entering her apartment. The fact that he turned out to be waiting for her was as unexpected as it was exciting, because this guy rated off the charts on her own personal drool-o-meter. Maybe she had been such a good girl that Santa was sending her present early. Either that, or she was hallucinating.
    Okay, so a burglar wasn’t most people’s idea of an appropriate Christmas gift or heavenly reward, but Corinne had had a hard day and it had been weeks since her last date. She could be forgiven for a little bit of drooling over a man that gorgeous, even if he did have a larcenous streak. So her relief when they sorted out who he was and what he wanted turned into something very profound. It made her feel better knowing she hadn’t been lusting after a thug.
    At least six-five or six-sex—er, six- six —the man towered over not only her, but over every other man she’d ever dated, including the six-foot-two construction worker she’d drooled over for most of last summer. This guy wasn’t just tall, though; he had brawn to back up his height, with the kind of muscle definition most men would kill for.
    His skin had a coppery-bronze hue, and his eyelashes were thicker and darker than any man’s had a right to be. They made his crystal-green eyes stand out and emphasized the dark, rich coffee color of his hair, which was at least long enough to be clubbed back into a ponytail. She couldn’t see how long it was, but her fingers already itched to run through it.
    Long hair on a man pushed all her buttons, especially when it was just that particular shade, that brown so dark it looked black until the light hit it just right and pulled out those rich, chocolate highlights. She wanted to feel that hair wrapped around her