“So how does one become an explosives expert?” Hayden’s father asked, leaning back in an antique chair that cost more than Brent’s mortgage. “It seems like a dangerous choice, running toward the bomb when everyone else is running the opposite direction.”

“It definitely requires a certain level of insanity. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s listed in the job description.” Brent shrugged. “At least there aren’t people lined up to replace me.”

“I’d imagine not,” Stuart commented absently as he sipped a glass of wine.

Amused, Brent let a beat pass before filling the silence. “I was lucky. My father was a cop, too. He recognized that I had a knack for it. Most parents get upset when you blow up your sister’s Barbie Dreamhouse. My father took me to an explosives demonstration instead.”

The older woman he’d been mentally referring to as Socialite Number Two laughed. “Is your father…tall like you?”

Grr-owl. One ticket to Cougartown, please. Brent glanced in Hayden’s direction, swallowing a laugh when she tossed back most of her drink. “Nope. Got the height from my mother. My parents met for the first time at a bar.” He leaned forward as if imparting a secret. “When the bartender asked my father for his drink of choice, he infamously responded, ‘Nothing for me. I’ve already got a tall drink of water right here.’”

Hayden burst out laughing, but quickly reined it in when she seemed to realize all eyes were trained on her. “Um. Where is your father now?”

“Retired in Florida. Last time I went for a visit, he was rebuilding the engine on a sixty-eight Pontiac Firebird in the driveway. Mom calls it his playtime.”

Stuart raised a lazy eyebrow. “You know cars?”

Brent watched as Hayden’s drink paused halfway to her mouth. She was obviously petrified of him revealing his second profession, embarrassing her in the process. Reminding himself he didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought, Brent cleared his throat, keeping his eyes squarely on Hayden. “Yes. Actually, I moonlight as a mechanic.”

Two seats away, her mother’s fork scraped along the expensive china. Stuart, however, couldn’t have looked more pleased. “One of my Aston Martins needs a new alternator.” He propped his ankle on his knee, smiling smugly at Brent. “Can I trust you with it?”

Brent saluted him with his drink, ignoring the pang in his chest when Hayden rose quickly and left the room. “You can trust me to overcharge you.”

Stuart smiled on cue, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Brent forced himself to remain seated when the man got up a moment later and followed Hayden from the room. Just as he made the decision to go after them, Hayden’s father threw another question his way, but he could barely focus on it.

Last night, when he’d been handcuffed and blue-balled within an inch of his life in Hayden’s foyer, he’d let her think he was going to show up and act like the big clown she perceived him to be. Instead, he’d prove to her that she didn’t have the first clue about him or what he was capable of. That using the right fork and shooting the shit with millionaires was a breeze when compared with dismantling a pipe bomb or rescuing injured civilians from a structural collapse.

And maybe, just a small part of him had wanted to prove it to himself. He didn’t lack familial affection in his life. His parents, his sister and brother, his nieces…they were all grateful for the work he put in to keep their lives running smoothly and they never hesitated to tell him. They depended on him and he loved that. It drove him. But sometimes he wondered if he spent so much time making ends meet, he was forgetting himself. Defining himself by how much money he made per week. How many problems he could solve with each paycheck. It may have been unconscious, this need to prove he could accomplish something that didn’t involve a wrench or C4, but he couldn’t deny an odd satisfaction at having fit in tonight, without sacrificing his identity in the process.

He hadn’t forgotten his other reason for being there tonight, though. After Stuart spent the entire dinner with his eyes glued to Hayden’s breasts, Brent’s teeth were still on edge, even as he strove for casual. Not that he could fault the guy. The girl might be spoiled and thoroughly exasperating, but she had an amazing rack. He’d sneaked in more than a few peeks himself. Stuart, however, had all but danced on the table pointing at them, shouting “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

Stuart. Damn, even the guy’s name annoyed the shit out of him. He shouldn’t care if the two snobs ended up together. Hell, they deserved each other. But he couldn’t deny feeling a whole heap of aggravation over the idea. It had to be the lust talking. She’d left him unsatisfied last night and until he had her, apparently this territorial feeling would eat him alive. If he had his way, it wouldn’t be much longer. Whether or not they could stand to share the same air, he wanted her like hell.

Brent scratched the back of his neck, feeling anxious. He didn’t like Hayden and Stuart being outside his line of vision. She didn’t want to be alone with him. It had been one of the reasons she’d brought him along.

Trying to tamp down the twitch of alarm, Brent set down his glass on a crystal coaster and rose from the couch, murmuring an excuse as he went. She hadn’t mentioned why she wanted Stuart kept away, had she? Brent’s stride increased in pace. He’d just turned down the hallway leading to the kitchen when he heard voices.

“Come on, Hayden. You know you just brought him here to make me jealous. It worked. Is that what you want to hear?”

She sighed. “Actually, I couldn’t care less.” Her heels clicked then stopped short. “Stuart, I need to get back to my mother. Move out of the way. You’ve clearly had a lot to drink.”

“A cop, though? Honestly, sweetheart.”

Hayden said something Brent couldn’t hear.

“Fine, then. Why don’t we try to make him a little jealous instead?”

“No.”

Brent had heard more than enough. His vision swam a little as he entered the kitchen and saw Hayden wedged between Stuart and the marble island, clearly trying to ward him off. He dug his fingers into his palms and breathed deeply through his nose. Hayden’s eyes shot wide when she saw him, alerting him to the fact that his temper was showing on his face. Stuart followed her line of vision, backing off immediately when he saw Brent. It took every ounce of willpower he had inside him not to grab Stuart by the neck and toss him like a rag doll across the room. But a small voice of reason told him he’d come this far in proving to her he wasn’t some hotheaded idiot. He couldn’t blow it now.

Brent nodded once at Stuart. “You’re wanted in the living room.”

“Very well.” He looked at Hayden. “Are you coming?”

“No, she’s staying,” Brent responded before he could stop himself. Her posture stiffened slightly at his high-handedness, but he couldn’t summon the will to care. Currently, his will was all tied up. After a moment of tense silence, Stuart shrugged and proceeded to leave the kitchen, cocktail in hand. Brent stopped him with a hand on his arm before he could pass, then leaned in and spoke quietly so Hayden wouldn’t overhear.

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“If you have trouble understanding the word ‘no,’ I’ll be more than happy to explain what it means. Especially when she says it.”

Stuart stiffened, but continued walking after a moment without looking back.

“Well? You’ve ordered me to sit and stay, master. Now what?”

Brent didn’t answer, just rounded the island in her direction with long strides.

“Don’t you need to get back to your pack of admirers? They’re bound to miss their new dude crush.” When he didn’t answer again, she frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not as though I encouraged him. I came in here for ice and he followed me. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Brent stopped in front of Hayden, forcing her to tilt her head back. “Yes, it is. You told me you wanted him kept away. It’s part of the reason you brought me here.”

She shook off his words. “I can handle Stuart without your help. Besides, you were a little busy playing teach the rich girl a lesson to notice anything else.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Listen—” She did a double take. “You’re what?”

He smiled. “I’m sorry. If you’d told me in advance how bad he was, I wouldn’t have let him within ten feet of you. We have our differences, Hayden, but I’d never let some asshole put his hands on you if I could prevent it. I have a sister. A mother. I take that kind of thing seriously.”

“Oh.” She stared up at him like he’d sprouted antennae. “Oh.”

His lips twitched. “Oh?”

Then in a move he didn’t see coming, Hayden dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a hot, hard, whiskey-flavored kiss. What little willpower Brent still possessed flew out the window when her tempting curves molded to his and she sucked on his tongue with a throaty moan. He sucked her tongue right back, letting his hands drop to her ass and knead the taut flesh beneath her skirt. It felt natural, inevitable, to lift her against him so she could wrap her legs around his waist, fitting their lower bodies together with a perfection that made him groan roughly into her mouth. Once he had her resting on top of his erection, he gripped her ass and slid her up and down, so she could experience every inch of it against her core.