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the door.
    T.J. leaned against her dresser and Tim and Kinncaid were both lying across her bed.
    Kinncaid propped up on his elbow, Tim lifted his head.
    “’Bout damn time,” Tim muttered.
    She halted, staring at Kinncaid.
    A man reclining on her bed. A very handsome man. In her room. On her bed. He straightened from his leonine pose, lean and powerful.
    This is where she was supposed to say something witty. Something blasé. Something.
    Anything?
    His blue eyes bore into her and a friction of awareness tingled along her spine.
    She licked her lips and blinked, tearing her gaze away from Kinncaid and over to Tim who studied her with a smirk on his face. Time for flippant. “Oh my!” She strived for her best Scarlett O’Hara voice. “Look, T.J., two strapping men in my room. On the bed. Let’s tie them up and have our way with them. I’ve always fantasized about an orgy.”
    Kinncaid arched one black brow, the blue in his eyes shifting. Though in the low light she could be wrong. Slowly, he rose from her bed. Her libido, which she thought was probably nonexistent, whispered along her nerves. Great damn time for it to awaken, she thought. It must be all that dark stubble peppering his lean jaw.
    “Your humor, as usual, is beyond me,” Tim mumbled.
    T.J. chuckled.
    Jesslyn jerked her eyes off Kinncaid and faced Tim. “I know, like most things, it generally is.”
    Tim shook his head. And motioned to Kinncaid. “Aiden Kinncaid, meet Jesslyn Black.
    I don’t think we ever got around to actual introductions before.”
    Aiden.
    It fit him, as stupid as that sounded, the name fit.
    He crossed the space between them and held his hand out. Jesslyn stared at it, momentarily wondering what in the world she was supposed to do. The entire night was surreal.
    Shoving the memories away, she focused on his hand. Long fingered, dark hair dusting the back, it reminded her of an artist’s hand. No rings and a strong sinewy wrist. She reached

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    out and grasped it, and shock danced up her spine from the simple contact. His hand was warm, nothing more, but the light touch of his palm on hers, his fingers closing around hers made her want to jerk her hand back.
    “Hello, nice to meet you,” he said.
    His voice reminded her of the promise of a storm, a rumble, softened by the patter of rain.
    Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
    “Hi,” she answered. “Nice to meet me? I take it you’re over your snit then?” She licked her lips, and gently tugged until he released her hand.
    “Snits? I don’t get in snits.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about earlier, snapping at you and all.”
    “Did that hurt?”
    His brow furrowed. “Did what hurt?”
    “The apology?”
    He moved his jaw out then back in. “Not as much as I thought it might. Are you always like this?”
    “Like what?”
    “Contrary, edgy?”
    Tim laughed. “I’d use bitchy.”
    She ignored both Tim and T.J., who laughed as they walked out of the room. Aiden’s eyes were fascinating. All that blue surrounded by thick black lashes. She took a deep breath and smelled a faint trace of his spicy cologne. She licked her lips again. Did the man taste as good as he smelled? “Probably.”
    “Probably what?”
    You probably taste good? Shaking off the wayward thoughts she remembered what they were talking about. “Yes, I have an attitude problem, or so some think. Why?”
    “Just wondering.”
    Silence settled between them. She was in panties and a camisole. Naked flashed in her mind. It didn’t matter that she had a robe on. “As fascinating as this is, would you please leave?
    I need to get dressed.”
    For a moment, he didn’t move, just watched her. “Guess so since Tim and the woman with the gun walked out of your planned orgy, and I’m not really into sharing anyway.”
    She bet he wasn’t, but quirked a brow, saw the amusement, the challenge in his eyes.
    “Well, as to that, I don’t know that you qualify into sharing or