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habit, guarded. Standing there, silently staring up at him through the slim opening of the door, she was struck again by his aura of gentleness. A large man. Exquisitely soft brown eyes.
    In the background, Sam coughed. Having momentarily forgotten his presence, she looked quickly back. Ryan’s gaze flew beyond, only to be thwarted by the meager span of the opening. Not so his perceptivity.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. You’re not alone.” A faint crimson blush edged above his beard. With a contrite grin, he started to turn. “I’ll try elsewhere.” But the sound of the chain sliding across, then falling, halted his retreat.
    The door slowly opened and Carly offered a smile. Sam was there to keep her safe. Besides, Ryan Cornell, awkward in such an appealing way, seemed no more of a threat now than he had to her downstairs in the heat of her panic. She stood back. “Come on in. The phone’s in the kitchen.” When he hesitated still, she urged him on with a cock of her head.
    He took a step forward, looking down at her in gratitude, then stepped into the foyer and, sending an apologetic glance Sam’s way, followed her pointing finger to the kitchen. Feeling himself a perfect ass, he lifted the phone and punched out the number of the place he’d called home for the past year. Then he waited, his head down, one hand on his hip, for the phone at the other end to ring.
    From an unobtrusive post by the kitchen door, Carly studied him. Lit generously now, his hair proved to be more brown than black. Though full, it was well shaped and neatly trimmed, as was the close-cropped beard that covered his jaw. Both were rich and well groomed. Indeed, despite her initial, irrational fear when he’d caught her arms downstairs, there was nothing of the scraggly cur about him. Though his sweat shirt was dark and faded, she could now detect its legend. Stretched across the muscled wall of his chest and slightly battered from washing and drying, it read Harvard. Though his jeans were worn, they were clean and hugged the leanest of hips. His sneakers were on the newer side. Just as she paused to admire his height, he glanced over at her, softly, silently, and she sensed that same gentleness she had earlier. When he offered a self-conscious smile, she half returned it.
    Then, with the abrupt shift of his expression, and after what must have been eight or nine rings, his call was answered. He tore his eyes away and focused on the floor.
    “Yeah.” The voice at the other end was hoarse and begrudging.
    “It’s me, pal. Sorry.”
    “Ryan? What the—”
    “I need a favor.” His jaw flexed. He spoke fast and low. “In the kitchen, the cabinet by the fridge. There’s a slew of my keys still on the hooks. Find the spares for my car and bring them over?”
    “But you’ve got the damned car, haven’t you?”
    “Not the keys.” He didn’t have to elaborate. His brother knew him too well.
    “Geez! What did you do, lock ’em in again?”
    Ryan tucked his head lower. “Spare me the speech, Tom. Can you run them over or not?”
    “Damn it, Ryan.” The phone was muffled, dropped, then grabbed up again. “I thought I was free of you for the night.”
    “You are. I just need the keys.”
    “It can’t wait till morning?”
    “The car’s running.” Ryan forced the words out under his breath in the hope that Carly wouldn’t hear.
    With a pithy oath, Thomas Cornell sat up to cast a rueful eye at the woman by his side. “And you can’t break in? You know, jimmy the lock with a hanger or something?”
    “I’ve tried. It’s not working.” Ryan’s patience waned. “Come on, Tom. I’m imposing on one of my neighbors—”
    “You’re imposing on me ! Do you have any idea what you’re interrupting?”
    Ryan hadn’t been blind to the fair-haired attraction of his kid brother’s date. Nor was he blind to the fact that Tom was a skilled playboy who’d easily be able to pick up an hour later where he left off now.
    “I think so.