But that would make him forgettable like all the others.

Oh, no, sweetheart. We’ll play this my way. “I’ll wish you sweet dreams, then.” He turned to go.

“Good night and good riddance.” Vexation filled her tone.

Will didn’t let himself turn back.

But he left with a smile on his face.

CHAPTER FOUR

SHE WANTED TO SIT ON HER windowsill, damn it. Jordan stared in frustration at the cold drizzle that had set in before she arrived home from work the next night. She needed to think, needed more space to prowl. The walls of her loft were closing in. The weather was nasty, but she had to get out of here, away from the silence. CDs didn’t get it; TV was worse. She’d picked up two different books and thrown both of them down in disgust.

Making up her mind quickly, she strode toward her coatrack, but the sharp crack against the window drew her up short. What the—?

There it was again. Pea gravel. Sharp little clicks against her window.

Why didn’t whoever it was just use the buzzer?

When the third shower of stones clinked, Jordan strode across the floor in a huff, jerking the window open.

She leaned out. “Why don’t you use the stupid buzz—?” The words dried up in her throat at the sight of the man on the sidewalk. Will Masterson. Jerk.

Under the hood of his coat, his face creased in a smile. “If you wouldn’t be answering the phone when I call, why should I expect you to answer the buzzer?”

He’d walked out on her the night before, when she wasn’t through with him. And yes, thanks to caller ID, she’d ignored a phone call earlier. “So you threw rocks at my window?”

“Ah, but gently, sweetheart, with exactly the right touch. Just as I’d treat a woman, you see.”

“You probably think that.” She shrugged indifferently. “Men often overrate their performance.” Now he’d be insulted and go away.

But of course he didn’t do that. Instead, he threw back his head and laughed, that deep, rolling sound that reached right past every barrier she could put up.

“Does that work with your usual sort? If so, I’m thinking you’ve not met the right man yet.”

“Are you applying for the position? I’ll warn you I don’t keep anyone around long.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “The poor lads allow you to send them away?”

“I prefer to sleep alone.”

“Well, then, darlin’ Jordan, you’ve clearly not slept with the proper man. A pity, that is.”

“You think you’re him?” Her tone dripped condescension.

“Now, don’t be getting ahead of yourself. I haven’t even decided if I like you yet.” His smile was unrepentant.

She had to grin back. His unfailing good humor made him difficult to stay mad at. “You are too much, Will Masterson. I can’t decide if you’re dumb as a post or the most arrogant man I’ve ever met.”

“While you’re pondering, I’ll be right up. Hit the lock.”

“Wait—I didn’t say you—”

Too late. He’d already disappeared from sight.

Jordan slammed the sticky window down, shivering from the cold air that had filled the room. She should just leave him out there in the rain. It was so bone-deep cold that he’d soon leave.

But until he did, she was trapped in here, the same cage she’d been clawing to escape.

Damn the man. Suddenly, Jordan laughed out loud. What the hell—she’d been wanting entertainment, but she’d never in a million years imagined it being Will. She crossed the floor and punched the button, wondering just when she’d lost control of the situation.

Probably about five seconds after they’d met.

But she’d get it back, and then she’d boot him out, just like the others.

He didn’t knock but instead turned the knob and walked right in, standing in the doorway dripping. “That’s my girl. I knew you wouldn’t leave a poor man to freeze.”

Jordan nodded toward the coatrack on the wall. “Hang up your coat right there.”

He did so, even going so far as to pull off his boots, but his eyes were busy taking in the space around him. She had a sense of all her secrets being bared.

Will took his sweet time, not moving from where he stood, barely less imposing in his socks. He glanced up, and his face wreathed in smiles. “A pressed tin ceiling,” he said in reverent tones. “An interesting jumble, this. There are secrets here to be mined, darlin’ Jordan. A man could spend some time doing it.”

“Don’t get any ideas. I only took pity on a fool who’d stand out in the rain.”

“That you did, sweetheart. And there’ll be stars in your crown for the doing.” He rubbed his hands together. “You wouldn’t happen to have a wee drop, now, would you?”

Jordan snorted. “I never met a man who sounded like a Pat O’Brien movie before. By that, I guess you mean something alcoholic?”

Blue eyes twinkled. “To be sure, you’ve never met a man like me before, Jordan Parrish. You may not yet be up to the challenge, but I might be willing to take on the task of grooming you for it.”

“You wish.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve probably got some tequila and limes. We could try body shots.”

He cocked his head. “Hmm, interesting game, that. We never played it in my pub.”

She had to chuckle. “You big faker. Marly told me you’ve been in the country several years.” She walked toward the kitchen area, all too aware of his large frame right behind her. As a tall woman, she wasn’t used to feeling dainty, but that’s exactly how Will made her feel.

“It’s in the blood, Jordan darlin’. Peat fires and the call of the auld sod. A man can’t help what he is, and I’ll thank you not to make sport of me.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Here we go. You can have…” But he’d left her, his concentration already switched to something else.

Her kitchen faucet? She’d never had a man up to her place who’d paid more attention to her loft than her body. Right now, he was turning handles, then using those capable hands to unscrew something on the tip of the faucet.

He shook the metal piece and slapped it against his palm until a tiny screen fell into his hand. Will held it up to the light, frowning. “This screen needs replacing. And how long has this faucet been dripping?”

“What business is it of yours?”

He glanced around. “I suppose it’s too much to expect that you’d have a toolbox?”

“Of course I do. No twenty-first century woman is without one,” she huffed.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Jordan grabbed for the part. “Give me that. I can take care of my own repairs, thank you very much.”

“Can you now?” Placing the metal whatever-it-was and screen in her hand, he executed a sweeping invitation. “Please. I love to watch a woman work.”

“I’ll do it later.” She slapped the parts on the counter and turned away.

“Oh, but there’s no time like the present, didn’t your mum teach you that?” Will relaxed against the counter, arms crossed, a big smile on his face. “Humor me. I’d so enjoy it. I’m in no hurry.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Jordan walked past him, drinks forgotten.

His arm shot out and wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. “Oh, darlin’, I do enjoy the way you do that.”

She leaned back, all too aware of how well they fit together. “Do what?”

His other hand slid up her back, tunneling into her hair, tilting her head slightly. “Lie with such arrogance.” His head lowered to hers and he growled softly. “You sure you’re not Irish?”

Then it was too late. His mouth covered hers, his big body surrounding her. She could smell wood shavings on him, pine and cedar and soap…and something else she could only describe as all man.

Faster than she would ever have believed, his kiss swept her mind clean of any thought but him. For one perilous, treacherous moment, she remembered how it felt to dance with him, to have her body tight against his muscled one. A part of her wanted nothing more than to snuggle up in those strong arms, to sink into the comfort of him.

No. Oh, no. But before she could end the kiss, he did, then set her back on her feet. She stifled a moan.

Regret shone in those blue eyes, and he trailed one finger down her cheek. “I’m thinking there’ll be no more of that until we get something straight between us.”

Jordan bristled and stepped away, fixing him with a baleful stare. “And just what might that be?”

“When you’re ready to tell all those boys you’re finished with them.”

“And why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you’ll be spending your time with me now, Jordan darlin’. And I don’t share.”

She laughed, though it wasn’t as steady as she’d have liked. “You can’t be serious.”

He tapped his chest. “Don’t be listening to your head now. It’s the heart that’s speaking to you.”

“You’re insane. I told you, you’re not my type. Any way, I’m still mad at you for dressing me down at Thanksgiving.”

He shrugged. “You know I was right. A family like that needs supporting, not being sneered at.”

“I wasn’t sneering. I think they’re great.”

“But?”

She turned away. “They’re an anomaly. Marriage isn’t like that.”

“David told me your parents are divorced.” His gaze warmed with sympathy.

“My parents are none of your business.”

“What if I want to make you my business?”

“Don’t bother. I’m not interested.”

“Liar.” He approached her again.

She backed away. “We couldn’t be more different. I’m a shark lawyer—and proud of it! I’m very good at what I do. You’re a—”

“Careful now. Wouldn’t want to let your high-and-mighty streak show too much. I’m a simple carpenter and not ashamed of it.”

“I didn’t say you should be. I’m not a snob.”

Pity darkened his eyes. “Oh, but I think you are. Worse, I scare you. I see who you are, beyond the seductress, beyond the woman they call the man-eater.”

Then, to her great surprise, he reversed course and headed for the door, pulling on his boots and sliding his arms into his coat. “I’m not afraid of you, Jordan Parrish. You won’t discard me like the others. I’ll go when I’m ready and not a minute before.”

“First I’d have to get involved with you, and that’s not gonna happen.”

“It will. Get ready for it.”

“It won’t.” But she wrapped her arms around her waist against a sudden shiver.

“I’m not saying it will be easy—God knows you’re anything but, and I’ve surely lost my mind getting involved with you, but that’s as it will be.” He grasped the door handle, then turned back, giving her a long, soulful look she couldn’t interpret. “I’m not what you think you want, sweetheart, but I’m exactly what you need.”

Then he smiled and gave a tiny salute. “It’s a good thing I’m a patient man, Jordan darlin’. I have a feeling I’m going to have use for all I can muster.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “Just screw the end back on like it was. It will do overnight. I’ll be back with the tools and parts tomorrow.”

Without another word, he was out the door.

Jordan raced after him, grasping the handle with a thought to call him back, to demonstrate her disdain and leave him in no doubt of who had the upper hand.

Instead she let go and leaned back heavily against the wood, pressing trembling fingers to lips that somehow felt different. She swore, but her heart wasn’t really in it. Drawing herself up resolutely, she headed to the kitchen to put her faucet back together and resume the life she liked just fine.

You have a high opinion of yourself, Will Masterson.

Insane. The man was certifiable.

And definitely not her type.

But even though her sample was brief, she knew one sure thing about him.

The man could kiss. Suddenly Jordan laughed out loud.

Certifiable, for sure. Not her type, definitely.

But able to make her toes curl?

Damn the man, yes.

Not that she’d ever tell him.

CHAPTER FIVE

WILL FOUND HIMSELF WHISTLING as he traveled the nearly deserted downtown streets at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. He’d seen her puzzlement last night, felt her body respond to his. She wanted to fight what she felt, but she was attracted, he was certain.

Not that she would like it one bit, of course. Ms. Jordan Parrish was far too accustomed to ordering men about, to calling the shots. One glimpse of those stunning legs, and a man could go blind. She used her sexuality as a weapon, as a barrier to protect a heart that he was more certain than ever needed care.

Not that she was the One, of course. No, his ideal woman was still out there somewhere and he would keep looking.

But in the meantime, he could help her, this hard-edged woman who had likely never cared for a house-plant, much less gardened. She probably lived on take-out. As for baking bread…the mere image of Jordan Parrish with flour dusting her apron and her hand buried in dough…

That made him laugh out loud.

He was quite clearly insane, of course, for getting involved. Between his inability to resist a challenge and his weakness for strays, he was, as him mum would say, a complete pudding.