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  through four temp concierges in the time she’d been gone on leave, all of whom Brody had chased off with his sunny nature.

  Translation: he’d been brooding and edgy and terrifying.

  Yeah. Sounded like him.

  But the brooding and edgy thing had never bothered her much. Maybe because she’d always been drawn to the bad boys. The reason for that was simple. Bad boys wanted the same things she did—no strings attached.

  She didn’t do strings.

  Outside, Brody turned off the Camaro, and silence filled the air.

  A heavy, weighted, questioning silence.

  And suddenly, Maddie’s chest felt too tight. Damn it. She let out a long, calming breath, which of course, didn’t work. It never worked. Neither did just sitting at the window staring down at him, but God, she was tired, and still recovering. Yeah, that’s what this asinine weakness in her knees was—recovery. Because it sure as hell wasn’t for him.

  No way.

  They didn’t even like each other . . .

  And yet she leaned over so she could see out the window again, past the tall twin pines trying to block her view of the nearly six feet, four inches of rough and tumble, sexy as hell male as he unfolded his long legs from the muscle car.

  Her pulse took another unfortunate leap. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been in his pilot’s uniform, and even though it was ridiculous and juvenile and wrong, it had turned her on. The thought of seeing him out of it? Even more so.

  Yeah, she had a problem. She’d been shamelessly, secretly crushing on him all damn year. But that was her own humiliating secret, and one she’d take to the grave. And here was another—that fateful last day at work six weeks ago now, when she’d been just a little ticked off that she couldn’t get him to notice her as a woman, she’d dressed solely to gain his attention—miniskirt, snug cami, teetering heels, the whole shebang. She’d been gratified when it’d worked, when he’d executed a comical double take at her and then spilled coffee down the front of his shirt.

  Mission accomplished. He’d most definitely noticed her as a woman.

  The excitement level had been so high she couldn’t stand it. And then she’d smart-mouthed a psychopath and gotten herself shot, and her life had been put on pause.

  Fast-forward to now.

  Shutting the driver’s door of the Camaro, he stared at the cabin. He wore a T-shirt, cargoes, and scuffed boots, all in black, emphasizing that world-class bod she’d spent many, many days drooling over while pretending to work.

  Unlike her, the man was genetically incapable of pretending anything. Nope, he rarely bothered to hide his thoughts, especially as they pertained to her, thoughts that had at one time or another run the gamut from baffled to that one time she’d done the unthinkable and pressed him back against a wall and kissed him.

  And for that one blissful moment, he hadn’t been vexed or grumpy. He’d been stunned and aroused and all sleepy-eyed and sexy with it.

  Not now, though.

  Now he stood there, tall and sure, a frown on his face, his dark hair falling carelessly across his brow, and at just past his collar, longer than one would expect a pilot’s hair to be. She knew that it wasn’t that way because he cared about being in style, but because he simply forgot to get it cut. Sometimes she thought he’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached.

  The only things he never forgot were his damn planes or his business. Sky High Air was an exclusive, luxurious, sophisticated airline service. Pretty damned hilarious considering that the three guys who ran it had been troubled youths, to say it kindly. They’d started Sky High last year by the seat of their pants and their collective wits. They’d put their heads and bank accounts together, managing, barely, to eke enough money to get it going, then keep it going.

  But a miracle had occurred. The LA rich and spoiled had discovered them, loved them and the services they provided, and all the buckets and buckets of antacids they’d consumed over the cost of the start-up were finally paying off.

  Below, Brody stopped on the walk and looked up.

  She held her breath. Hard to believe they made geeks in such outrageously magnificent male packages, but there it stood, looking for her.

  His eyes were hidden behind mirrored aviator sunglasses, but she knew them to be a mesmerizing pewter gray that could turn to ice or flame given his mood, and they were filled with secrets she’d never managed to plumb.

  They drove her crazy, those secrets. She’d always wanted to know their depths, wanted to know what made him tick, his likes, his dislikes . . . and the yearning had driven her even more crazy.

  Had.

  Because she no longer had the luxury of dreaming about him. She had other things to dream about—things like life and death.

  But he didn’t know that as he headed for the door. Around his neck were the earphones for his iPod, which probably had Linkin Park blasting out at decibel levels uncharted. How the man hadn’t gone deaf was beyond her, but that wasn’t what she wondered as her gaze ran all over him like he was cotton candy. No, she wondered how she was going to keep her hands to herself if she had to talk to him one-on-one . . .

  Get a grip.

  After all, his partners had stolen her heart from day one, too, and she didn’t want to jump them. Shayne and Noah were bad boys as well, and when she’d gotten the job working for them, the rebel inside her had rejoiced to find a place where she belonged. She loved them both, loved them like the older brothers she never had.

  But nothing about her feelings for the edgy, brooding Brody was brotherly.

  Nowhere even close.

  Very annoying, and hard to hide as well, though she’d managed. She always managed, no matter the task. Cool as a cucumber, that was Maddie, always.

  She needed to find that cool now. Oh boy, how she needed to find that cool.

  Not easy when that dark, silky hair of his called to her fingers, and then there was that lean, angular face she wanted to touch, or that tough, muscular body she wanted to lick from top to bottom.

  Damn it, she’d told herself she was over her little schoolgirl crush, over whatever it was about him that melted her brain cells, not to mention her bones, leaving her a ridiculously vulnerable puddle of longing every time he so much as looked at her.

  She was tougher than this.

  But not with him.

  That thought came out of nowhere, and she beat it back, along with the knowledge that he, unlike any other man she’d ever met, had somehow sneaked past her defenses, past her carefully erected brick walls, and saw the woman beneath.

  He stopped walking. Stopped and tilted his dark head up to the second story window, and then seemed to look right into her eyes.

  Oh, God.

  Unprepared for the reaction that barreled through her, she actually sat there, still, rooted to the spot for one long heartbeat.

  “Who is that?”

  Maddie jumped as her sister came into the room. Tiptoed, as if someone was still on her trail, in the jerky, self-conscious movement of someone used to being pushed around.

  Goddamnit. “No one, Leena. It’s okay.”

  Leena leaned over Maddie’s shoulder, gnawing her lower lip between her teeth as she took in the man on the walk below. “My God,” she murmured and shivered.

  Yes, Maddie thought. My God. Brody induced that reaction from her, too.

  “That’s not no one.”

  True enough. She took another quick peek and felt a shiver herself, not of fear of that impressive size and height, but because she knew what that impressive size and height felt like full frontal and plastered up against her. “It’s okay. He’s my boss.”

  Leena let out a low breath as she stared at Brody. “You work for him?”

  “And two others. Three pilots.”

  “You work for three men like that?”

  No use telling her that not all men were manipulative jerks who ruled with their superior size or fist. That was something she’d have to learn on he