“He works with you?”

His neck twisted and his eyes came to me. “For me and not anymore.”

Oh brother.

As in, literally.

I turned to face him fully. “Knight, if this is about me –”

“Anya, it isn’t,” he cut me off, I lost him as he bent to shove the meat in the oven but his voice kept sounding. “It is and it isn’t. That party?”

He stopped and I prompted, “Yeah?”

He reappeared and moved around the kitchen. “Not the first time. Not even the f**kin’ second. This is not his place. It’s mine. He was crashin’ here. Then he moved a bunch of shit in here. I don’t care, never around anyway, but he knows I don’t want or like attention. He’s always gettin’ it for me.”

He moved to the counter that delineated the kitchen from the living room and set two, wide-bowled wineglasses on it then shifted back through the kitchen as I watched.

“So he’s out,” I called to his back.

“Yeah. Out. Done comin’ home to him f**kin’ bitches on my couch. My food gone. My booze gone. My wine gone. Blow residue on mirrors my cleaners find because he leaves them out everywhere. Them complainin’ to me about used condoms in the f**kin’ trash bins. Jesus. I don’t need that shit.” He came back to the counter with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and his eyes came to me. “Last night, he touched your girl. My boys told me it was not a good scene. Then he touched you and made his play the way only Nick can make a f**kin’ play with a woman like you which was also not a good scene. I’m done.”

“Right,” I whispered thinking with all that and all I knew of Nick Sebring, I would be done too.

I turned back to the windows.

I heard the movers reappear but I didn’t look as I heard them speak.

“Done, Mr. Sebring.”

“Good. Invoice or pay now?” That was Knight.

“Invoice.”

“Right.” Again Knight.

There was nothing for a while then, “Whoa, thanks, Mr. Sebring.”

That, obviously, was not Knight but, apparently, Knight tipped well.

Not surprising.

“Don’t mention it.” That was Knight, in a mutter.

Then nothing as I stared at the Front Range and did everything in my power to stop my mind from moving to why I was still there. Yes, the wars fought over a face like this comment was epic. That didn’t make me any less crazy because evidence was suggesting Knight Sebring was a whole lot crazier than me.

Tingles slid up my spine into my scalp radiating out when I felt a finger lightly tracing the edge of my racerback tank.

I turned and Knight was there, eyes down, hands both holding wineglasses, index finger on one out clearly to touch me.

God.

Seriously.

I was totally crazy.

And I should never, never, ever have worn this sweater. It was my best but it was also my coolest and sexiest.

His eyes came to mine and he held out a glass.

“Red,” I whispered, taking it.

“You don’t like red?” he asked and I looked from my glass to him.

“Yeah, I like it,” I answered softly.

“Good,” he replied just as softly.

“I’m a vegetarian though,” I blurted mostly because I liked his light touch, I liked his soft voice, I was losing myself in both and I had to keep my wits about me.

He blinked.

Blinked!

I made Knight Sebring blink!

“Not really,” I let him off the hook, his eyes held mine then he threw back his head and burst out laughing.

I stared.

I’d never seen him anything but impassive, irritated and angry. He was gorgeous even through those.

Now, laughing, it wasn’t to be believed.

Oh God.

Seriously.

I wasn’t crazy.

I was in trouble.

Still laughing, his arm swept out, catching me at the waist and pulling me into his shaking, hard, warm body.

Yep, totally in trouble.

His chin dipped and his dancing, vivid, blue eyes caught mine.

Oh so totally, completely in trouble.

Still smiling a hell on wheels beautiful smile, he muttered, “My baby’s funny.”

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh no.

Oh crap.

My baby.

I liked that.

Seriously, totally, completely, absolutely in trouble.

With effort, I pulled it together again.

“How do you know what I drive?” I asked.

“Watched you pull into your place that Friday,” he answered.

“And you saw the rosary and St. Christopher?” I pressed, knowing this was impossible unless he had Superman vision.

“Had a look before I took off. Seriously, you need another car.”

“I don’t. There’s nothing wrong with it. I get it serviced yearly. Tires rotated. Regular oil changes. Toyotas last forever.”

“It’s ordinary.”

“So?”

“Anya,” his arm gave me a squeeze, “babe, you are not ordinary.”

That tingle came back.

“You need a class ride,” he kept talking. “No flash, you need no more attention than you already get. Just class.”

I studied him.

Then I informed him, “Knight, I’m not sure the world sees what you see in me.”

He shook his head. “No, babe, you do not see what the world sees. Totally f**kin’ clueless.”

“I’m not,” I returned.

“How many men smile at you?” he asked immediately and my head jerked.

“Pardon?”

“Men,” he stated. “How many men whose eyes you catch smile at you?”

I thought about this and answered, “All of them.”

He stared at me but murmured, “Right.”

“They’re just being friendly.”

“Uh… no. They want in your pants even if they’re walkin’ by you on the street.”

“That isn’t true,” I retorted. “Women smile at me too.”

“All of them?”

I thought about this too and muttered, “No.”

“Good-lookin’ ones?”

My eyes slid away.

“Anya, eyes to me.”

My eyes slid back.

“Good-lookin’ bitches, they don’t smile at you, do they?”

“Uh…” I mumbled but didn’t say more.

“Competition,” he decreed.

I studied him again.

Then, quietly, I declared, “Knight, seriously, honestly, all this is crazy.”

“Anya, babe,” another arm squeeze with a head dip and I held my breath, “seriously, honestly, you’re absolutely f**kin’ right. This is f**kin’ whacked. It’s also f**king happening.”