Connor unfolded his arms. “What you need is a bodyguard,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But I understand why that might be a problem for someone in your position.”
"Thanks,” Allison said wryly, his perceptiveness taking her by surprise. “At least you’re more reasonable than my family.”
“So,” he went on, “that’s why I’m suggesting another option. Namely, me. All anybody else needs to know is that I’m a friend of the family who’s moved in with you for a while—maybe until renovations on my own place are done.”
The man had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Even if he did manage to keep a lower profile than a typical bodyguard, his offer was unwise. Very unwise if last night’s kiss was anything to judge by. “I thought we’d been over this. No.”
“I’ll pick you up and drop you off at work,” he continued unperturbed, “and, as an added bonus—” he gestured to their surroundings “—I’ll stay here with you.”
“How magnanimous of you.”
He gave her a humorless smile. “Don’t worry. I’m house-trained and basically pick up after myself.”
She rolled her eyes.
He leaned in then, suddenly serious, his hazel gaze capturing and holding hers. “This isn’t a game, Allison. Someone has already vandalized your car and sent you death threats. You don’t know what he’ll do next.”
“I know.” She’d tried not to focus on the danger but, instead, on finding the perpetrator. She refused to live her life in fear—although, truth be told, hadn’t that been part of her motivation last night for being at the window, peering down at a dark street?
Connor continued, “Your family said the police are involved, but you and I both know those resources only go so far.”
She’d always known Connor Rafferty was a man who didn’t take no for an answer. He was, after all, the guy who’d climbed out of South Boston and, by the age of thirty-seven, had built a multimillion-dollar enterprise offering security systems and personal protection to big companies as well as the rich and famous.
But, she reminded herself, he was also the guy who’d hauled her teenaged butt out of a dark bar over ten years ago. The guy who still acted at times as if she were a pesky little kid, regardless of last night’s inexplicable kiss.
Fortified by that thought, she tried again for a polite brush-off. “Look, Connor, I appreciate the offer, but, as you just said, the police are on it. The DA’s Office also has detectives assigned to it.”
His eyes narrowed. “And what if I said you really don’t have a choice in the matter?”
She scoffed, then stopped abruptly as he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a set of house keys. Alarm bells went off in her head. “Where did you get those?”
“When I’m hired for a job, I usually get access to the premises,” he said coolly.
She pursed her lips. She knew exactly which Whittaker to thank for giving him access. When she was through with Quentin, his ears would be ringing for days. In the meantime, she had one cagey security expert to deal with.
Quite clearly, she wasn’t simply going to be able to banish him as she’d like. Experience had taught her, however, that it was better graciously to call a temporary truce rather than to admit defeat. She needed time to figure out how to get him out of her house. In the meantime, she’d play along with his game.
“I see,” she said, keeping her voice a few degrees cooler than his. “Well, if you’re going to be my temporary roommate, then we should set some house rules.”
“Such as?” His tone was suspicious, wary.
“Last night was a mistake that will not happen again, got it? Unfortunately, you caught me at a weak moment, when my defenses were down.”
“That’s the idea.”
She narrowed her eyes. “As I said, it will not happen again.”
“Are we, by any chance, talking about the kiss we shared?”
“Of course, I’m talking about the kiss.” Somewhere in the last few hours, the kiss—really two kisses that had seemed to flow almost seamlessly together—had assumed a singular identity all its own, so that she now referred to it mentally as “The Kiss.”
“Just checking,” he said in a voice that was so amiable it set her teeth on edge.
“And let me correct you, it’s not ‘the kiss we shared.’ It’s the kiss that you planted on me when I was distracted and vulnerable.”
His lips teased upward on one side. “Funny, you seemed to have enjoyed it.”
“No kissing. That’s part of the ground rules, Rafferty.”
He had the temerity to look openly amused. “I’ll agree not to kiss you. Whether you kiss me, however, is another matter.”
She gave him a frosty stare. “I’ll do my best to resist.”
“So, are we shacking up together?” he asked.
“With an offer like that, how can I refuse?”
He broke into a grin. “Modesty prevents me from saying more.”
“I’ve always said it’s your strong suit.”
“Is that sarcasm I detect?”
“That and good manners prevent me from saying what else.”
He laughed outright then, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her stomach somersaulted and she resisted the sudden strange urge to quell his hilarity with a sultry kiss on his laughing mouth.
Oh boy, was she in trouble.
