That earned several more chuckles.

Just as Gabby latched onto his thumb and shoved it backward, toward his wrist, the man howling in pain, she saw Sean step to the table. He was scowling.

"There a problem here?" he demanded, his voice hard as steel.

Gabby popped to her feet, heart racing, and released the man's thumb. "No," she said, hating the way her voice shook. Sean probably thought she was scared, but she wasn't. She'd dealt with men like that her entire life and knew how to handle them. She was excited, despite the fact that she might get fired for her actions.

Finally, Sean was with her again.

To her surprise, he smelled like mint and evening primrose. The floral fragrance should have been feminine, but on him it was delectably masculine, and she found herself breathing deeply.

"Hell, yes, there's a problem," the man growled, jumping up. Though he wavered on his feet, he glared down at her. "You broke my thumb, bitch."

Gabby returned his glare with one of her own. "And you sexually harassed me, you son of a bitch." She moved to flatten her palms on his chest and shove him back into his chair, but he was already out of reach.

Sean had circled the table, come up behind her, and slammed his hands on the man's shoulders, sending him propelling into his chair. Sean leaned down, putting him nose to nose with his opponent.

Everyone at the table went silent and no one moved to help their friend. Probably because Sean looked capable of cold-blooded murder just then.

"You ever touch her like that again and I'll cut off your hands. Ever talk to her like that again and I'll cut out your tongue. Believe me, I'm very good with knives. Do we understand each other?"

Shock overwhelmed Gabby. Sean had defended her.

The man paled, the blue veins underneath his skin now visible. He nodded. "Y-yeah, man. Yeah."

"Good." Sean patted him on his cheek and straightened. "Finish your drinks and get out. You won't like what happens if you linger."

The command was not met with any protests. In fact, everyone at the table grabbed their beers, downed them as quickly as possible--liquid even spilling out the sides of their mouths--and raced from the building.

She and Sean stood in place for several minutes, silent. His back was to her, and that was for the best. She didn't want to see that fierce, determined expression, didn't want to feel the lance of attraction that always followed the meeting of his gaze. Didn't want to like him any more than she already did.

Of course, he had to turn eventually. Thankfully, though, he didn't look down at her. He kept his attention just over her head, a muscle ticcing in his jaw.

"You okay?" he asked. Still his voice was like a barely banked inferno.

Concern. For her. Wow. "I'm fine."

He arched a brow. "Stuff like that happen often?"

She shrugged, careful to keep her expression blank. Not that he was looking at her. Why wasn't he looking at her? Sure, she wanted to avoid catching his gaze and feeling that lance of attraction, but what was his reason? "Depends on your definition of 'often.' "

"I'll take that for a yes."

"Smart man."

His lips twitched into a smile as his gaze fell . . . only he didn't meet her eyes. Yet. First he studied her chin, then her lips, then her nose. When those electric blues finally collided with her plain browns, every muscle in her body tensed and a shiver of awareness slid the length of her spine. God, he was beautiful. And yeah, maybe his tattoo and badass demeanor reminded her of her days on the streets, but suddenly she couldn't recall why that was a bad thing.

"What time do you get off?" he asked.

Loaded question. Was he asking her out? But while the words had been sexual, his tone had been matter-of-fact. "Around three, after my area is clean. Why?"

"I'm going to walk you to your car."

That was his job, keeping everyone safe. Not special treatment. That's what she told herself, anyway, but that didn't stop her heart from skipping a beat. "Okay."

"And then, of course, I'll follow you home."

Wait. What? "Uh, no, thanks." She didn't live at the address in her personnel file. She never had. It was better that way. If anyone came for her in the dead of night, she wouldn't be where they assumed.

The thought of having Sean over, though, of getting to know him and spending the night locked in his arms, was heady. Heady enough to cause her breath to hitch.

"That's not necessary," she forced herself to add.

Once again, his brow arched. "What if those guys are waiting for you? What if they follow you home?"

More of that concern . . . it was as potent as a caress. No one had ever concerned themselves with her safety. "I can take care of myself. I swear."

"Oh, really?" His gaze dropped to her lips and lingered this time. "Know how to lose a tail?"

To admit that yes, she did, would be to invite questions about why she did. Gabby simply shrugged.

Someone bumped into her, and she stumbled forward. Sean caught her by the arms to steady her. She experienced another sizzle of awareness, and maybe he did, too. Neither of them backed away.

"I want to kiss you," Sean said suddenly, gruffly, "but my boss wants you for himself."

Her eyes widened. Sean wanted to kiss her. Sean Walker actually wanted to kiss her. You have to get away from him. You can't allow him to do what he wants--even though you want it, too. "I don't want your boss." Damn it. Why had she said that?

"Why?"

Because I want you. "He's not my type."

"And what's your type?"

"Temporary." That was the truth, and that's the way it had to be. And yet even those temporary dalliances ended poorly. Every time. Someone would get too attached, usually her, but she would still have to move on when the time came because staying in one place for too long allowed a person to develop habits, and habits could make that person a target.

Sean ran his tongue over his teeth. "And you think Rowan wants more from you than a good fuck?"

Probably not. Which made him perfect for her. "You ask a lot of questions," she grumbled. Talkative men were annoying. Sometimes. God, why didn't Sean annoy her?

"I should walk away from you," he said darkly.

"Yeah, well, I should walk away from you."

Now his eyes narrowed. Every word out of her mouth seemed to anger him. "Do it, then. Walk away."

"Believe me. That's not a problem." Except it was. Still. She turned. She didn't handle challenges well.

His fingers curled around her shoulders, and he jerked her back around. The shadows in the club seemed to swirl around them, thick and impenetrable, chasing away the rest of the world until they were the only two people in existence. She bumped into his body and his arms banded around her. Before she could say a word, his lips smashed against hers and, rather than ease her into the kiss, he thrust his tongue past her teeth and into her mouth, conquering, demanding.

Stopping him never entered her mind. She moaned, sinking into him, tongue rolling over his. His taste was orgasmic. Mint and cherry. Heat radiated from him, such delicious heat.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, angling her head for better, deeper, wetter contact. The other hand glided down her back, gripped her thigh, and hooked it to his waist. The new position opened her up, placed her core just over his thigh. Another moan escaped her, this one hoarse and needy. She could feel him, his muscle against her clit.

Thank God she'd worn jeans. Had she done laundry and worn a skirt as usual--and as required--she would have been rubbing against him and he would have felt how damp she was.

She shouldn't be doing this. Not with him. Not in a crowded club. Not even in private. She'd managed to avoid male temptation for the past two years, and she preferred to keep it that way. There'd be no tears when she left. And she would leave; she always did. Except her solitary, nomadic lifestyle had been getting to her lately, depressing her. That was probably why she'd spent six months in New York rather than her standard four.

"I'm hard as a damn rock," Sean suddenly growled.

Oh yes, he was. That erection rode up her belly, tall and thick and teasing just right. More, more, more, she thought. It had been so long, and this was so freaking good. Good-bye tears be damned. "So?"

"We have to stop," he insisted. He was panting. His eyes appeared black rather than blue, shadows swirling in their depths.

"Yes, stop." Her cheeks flushed with embarrassed heat. "That's exactly what I was going to say."

"Good." His arms fell away from her, and her knees almost buckled.

She managed to remain upright as she struggled to find her breath. A girl could get used to--and addicted to--being kissed like that. Like she was the entire world. Like everything revolved around her and nothing mattered but her pleasure. Like her body was worthy of worship.

But rejected like that? No, thanks. No kiss was worth that. Liar.

Thankfully no one was whistling or telling them to get a room. In fact, as the shadows faded from around them, she saw that everyone was going about their business as if nothing had happened.

"Don't leave the club without me," he said. "Understand?"

"I--I won't." Except that I will. Clearly noncommittal evasions weren't going to work with this determined man.

"And I'm following you home."

"Sure." Sorry. No can do.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't happen to be lying, would you?"

"Of course not." Yes.

"Good."

"Now if you'll excuse me," she said, raising her chin, "I have to return to work."

"Not yet. We haven't discussed that kiss."

He was teasing. He had to be. "We don't need to. It's over. Done."

"Yeah, we do need to discuss it. You need to know that it won't be happening again."

"Fine," she said, hoping she sounded relieved rather than disappointed. Wishing she felt relieved rather than disappointed. This is stupid. All that darkness inside his eyes couldn't be good. He was better off as a memory.

"Believe me. It's best this way," he added, mirroring her thoughts. "I might be as temporary as Rowan, but I'm a hell of a lot more than you can handle." With that, he strode away.

CHAPTER FOUR.

For two and a half weeks, Sean followed Gabby home. Well, to the address she'd given her former boss. From the very first, she had known Sean was following her--even though she'd ducked out of the club, trying not to draw his notice. But notice her he had. Every damn time. He was always hyperaware of her and knew the moment she split. He'd race out and be on her tail in seconds, not even attempting to hide.

Well, until she reached her supposed destination.

She would park, exit her car, and wave him on. Wave--aka flip him off. He would drive forward, pulling shadows around the vehicle and hiding his location. When she would lose sight of him, she would reenter her car and head home. To her real home. Again, he would follow--but those times she had no idea.

Tonight was no different.

She exited and "waved."

He waved back, fighting a grin, and eased his Tahoe forward.

The tattoos around his eyes burned as he scanned the surrounding area. No one but him probably noticed, but the plumes of darkness branching in every direction were writhing and groaning, desperate to avoid the light of the moon and street lamps.

Come to me, he beseeched them.

They didn't hesitate. As if they'd merely been waiting for the invitation, they danced toward him, flattening against his car, shielding it--and thereby him--from prying eyes.

"Freaks me out every damn time you do that," Rowan said as he crawled into the front passenger seat. For the first time, Sean's friend had accompanied him to "keep you from doing something you'll regret." Not that Gabby had known. Rowan had lain in the backseat the entire drive. "I can't see a damn thing."

"I can." Sean's gaze could cut through shadows as easily as a knife through butter.

Gabby was in the process of settling behind the wheel of her car. Though more than two weeks had passed since their kiss, they hadn't touched again. Not even a brush of fingers.

He was becoming desperate for more.

That kiss . . . it was the hottest of his life. He'd forgotten where he was, what--and who--was around him. He'd never, never, risked discovery like that. But that night, having Gabby so close, those lush lips of hers parted and ready, those brown eyes watching him as if he were something delicious, he'd been unable to stop himself. He'd beckoned the shadows around them, meshed their lips together, touched her in places a man should only touch a woman in private, and tasted her.

Oh, had he tasted her. Sugar and lemon. Which meant she'd been sipping lemonade during her breaks. Lemonade had never been sexy to him before. Now he was addicted to the stuff. Drank it every chance he got. Hell, he sported a hard-on if he even spotted the yellow fruit.

At night he thought about pouring lemon juice over her lean body, sprinkling that liquid with sugar, and then feasting. She'd come, he'd come, and then they could do it all over again.

Seriously. Lemonade was like his own personal brand of cocaine now--which he'd once been addicted to, had spent years in rehab combating, and had sworn never to let himself become so obsessed with a substance again. Good luck with that.

"I'm getting nowhere with her," Rowan said. "You, she watches. You, she kissed."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Gabby's car passed his and he accelerated, staying close enough to her that anyone trying to merge into her lane wouldn't clip his car because they couldn't see him. Not that anyone was out and about at this time of night. "She's mine. I don't want you touching her."

"Finally. The truth. Which is a good thing, because I already called Bill and told him you were gonna be the one to seduce her."

"Thanks." This was one of the reasons he and Rowan were such good friends. "But I thought you were here tonight to keep me from her."