“That’s putting it mildly.”

Story chuckled under her breath. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to rat you out.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Listen, about earlier…I didn’t realize…”

“Realize what?” After a tense moment, it dawned on her. Apparently three thousand miles hadn’t been far enough to escape the constant reminder of her humiliation. Story ducked her head. “Ah. Jack told you about Fisher.” He made a low sound in his throat, confirming her suspicion. “What does my broken engagement have to do with you making a pass at me? If anything, it should be welcome news, being that I’m on the rebound.” Her attempt to make light of the situation fell flat.

“I’m not interested in being your rebound.” His voice sounded harsh. “Is that what you came here for? To work…him…out of your system?”

“No,” she countered. “If that’s all I wanted, I certainly didn’t need to fly across the country for it. I’m here for my father and that’s all.”

Daniel sent her a look she couldn’t interpret. “Glad to hear it.”

They pulled up outside a tall brick apartment building with a green awning. He cut the engine and exited the car to retrieve her luggage, frowning at her when she didn’t wait for him to open her passenger side door. She couldn’t get a read on this frustrating man. One minute his attitude bordered on hostile, and the next he was the picture of chivalry.

The simple marble lobby of the building consisted of a few potted plants and an elevator bank. They rode to the fourth floor in silence, although the atmosphere between them felt charged. Daniel stared at the double doors with his jaw flexing, increasing her irritation. She’d been perfectly willing to find Jack’s building on her own. She hadn’t needed him to drop her off on the doorstep like a helpless child. When the doors finally slid open, she breezed past him off the elevator, then was forced to wait for him when she realized she didn’t know Jack’s apartment number. Ignoring his amused snort, she followed him down the hallway to 4R and waited for him to unlock the door.

Her father’s apartment was sparsely decorated but comfortable. Couch, flat-screen television, dining room table. No pictures or knickknacks. Ruthlessly clean and organized. She smelled a hint of cigar smoke and smiled. The smell had always comforted her. She walked to the window and looked out onto a courtyard behind the building, which came complete with a flower garden, trees, and a bench.

She could feel Daniel’s eyes on her, watching from just inside the apartment door. The silence between them seemed to grow thicker with each passing minute. With anticipation? No. Now that he knew who she was, he wouldn’t jeopardize his working relationship with Jack. She thought they’d tacitly come to that very agreement on the car ride over. But his silent, lingering presence said otherwise.

“I believe the spare bedroom is down the hall on the right,” he said gruffly. “Knowing Jack, there’s probably not a whole lot in the fridge, but there’s a supermarket down the street on the corner of York.”

Story nodded absently, bypassing Daniel’s imposing frame to check out the spare bedroom. He followed behind with her suitcases and she tried to stem the nervous fluttering in her stomach. In the hospital, when they’d just been two people discussing snack foods, he’d wanted to take her home. Then everything had changed.

Or had it? In the end, hadn’t he ended up bringing her home just like he wanted?

A simply made full-size bed took up most of the tiny room, leaving her just enough space to stow her suitcase. She’d heard that space came at a premium in New York, but she could literally take two steps in any direction and hit a wall. Since she didn’t plan on spending a lot of time cooped up in the apartment, it hardly mattered.

Story turned to leave but Daniel blocked the doorway. As their eyes met, she felt a frisson of alarm at the intensity there. The intimacy of their surroundings came into sharp focus. If she stepped back, she would fall onto the bed. As before in the car, he made the room feel smaller just by standing in it.

When Daniel finally spoke, his voice sounded hoarse. “I’m only a few blocks away. If you need anything.”

Warmth spread through Story at the clear meaning behind his words. Or maybe she was imagining the offer of something more. A man like Daniel could read the phone book and make it sexy. She was probably projecting, but just in case… “And what is it you’d like to help me with, Daniel?”

He sucked in a breath. “All kinds of things.”

“Is that right?”

“Fuck yes.”

In response to his raw tone, an ache spread between her thighs. His eyes raked over her, lingering on her hardening nipples, which were surely visible beneath her cotton tank top. For three years, she’d only been with Fisher. Being this close to another man almost felt like cheating. But it wasn’t. As of last night, she no longer owed him her loyalty. She could do as she pleased. Provoking Daniel might be like playing with fire, but at the moment she couldn’t find the will to stop. The last twenty-four hours of her life had been a shit show. Didn’t her complete and utter embarrassment grant her the right to a little fun?

Her eyes dropped to Daniel’s bottom lip as he raked it with his teeth. Would he give her mouth the same treatment? Maybe just one kiss would be okay. One kiss.

Then he opened his mouth and shot her plan to hell. “But just because I want to, doesn’t mean I will. You’re Jack’s daughter. We’re not going there.”

Irritation snaked its way through her. She’d had enough decisions made on her behalf to last her a lifetime. She gave an exaggerated shrug. “You’re right. It probably would have been a disappointment, anyway.”

He jerked back. “A disappointment? What the hell does that mean?”

Suppressing a smile, Story reached for her suitcase and heaved it onto the bed. “Nothing. Just that in my experience, guys who talk the biggest game are usually a letdown in the end.”

Daniel studied her for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “Are you honestly trying to use reverse psychology on a hostage negotiator? You’re looking at an expert, sunshine.”

Shit. She totally had been. It worked well enough on her five-year-old students. “Nope, just being honest. I am nothing if not a pillar of honesty.”

“Right.” He didn’t budge from the doorway.

As she removed a stack of shirts from her suitcase, she looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Thanks for dropping me off, Daniel. I assume you know how to let yourself out?”

A muscle working in his jaw, he returned her challenging look. “Are you dismissing me?”

She pursed her lips. “That’s sure what it sounded like.”

“It wouldn’t be disappointing.”

Ha! Mental booty dance. Who’s the expert now, homeboy? Story placed her folded clothes on the bed with a sigh, then turned to face him. “I’ll tell you what. You’ve got one minute to prove me wrong.”

His eyes narrowed. “Elaborate.”

She slipped her phone out of her pocket and held it up. “I’ll set the timer for one minute. You’ll have sixty seconds to prove you’re not just a bunch of talk.”

Daniel glanced at the bed behind her. “The things I want to do to you, Story, would take a lot longer than sixty seconds. Your phone’s battery would die well before I finished.”

“Then show yourself the door,” she managed, her body responding to his blatant honesty.

“Set the damn timer.”

He’d called her bluff. Or maybe she’d called his. Story didn’t know anymore. Only that the electricity sparking between them made her feel anxious and needy. She felt defenseless under his hot regard, the sensuality he radiated heating her like a roaring fire. If he knew the effect his proximity had on her, she would lose any control she had over the situation. Could she steal one minute and walk away? She didn’t have any choice, having been the one to throw down the gauntlet.

Story just barely managed to keep her voice even as her fingers unlocked the screen on her phone

and she opened the timer application. “Fine. I’m not sure what you can prove in one minute, but let’s see what you’ve got, big boy.”

“Lift up your skirt.”

The deep tone of his unexpected demand raked across her senses. Composure slipping, her eyes shot to his. “Wh-what?”

“I want your permission.”

“I don’t understand,” she breathed.

“When my minute is up, you need to remember that you asked for it. Lift your skirt.”