latch sprang open, the contents spilled and rolled across the hardwood. Next, a body dove headfirst through the window, a hand raked around empty air for a place to land, and the person toppled onto the floor in a tangle of arms and legs, squeals flying from her. One high-heeled shoe sailed through the air and barely missed his nose.
"What the hell?" He hit the light, the piece of wood at the ready, and gaped at the leggy strawberry blonde with the wild hair—it was the same strawberry blonde he'd noticed earlier at the bar causing trouble. Had she followed him here to rob him?
She saw him and screamed at the top of her lungs. Swinging her fists at his legs to take him down, she caught his ankle. He yelped, dropped the wooden beam, and collapsed onto the floor, cradling his aching shin. Good Lord, the woman had nearly broken his leg.
She was spitting and cursing and flailing her fists at him. "Help, burglar! Help!"
He winced as her claws dug into his ankle, then grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides.
"Why the hell are you screaming? You broke in!"
She stilled slightly and stared up at him, eyes wide with terror and temper. He loosened his grip. "Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"I asked first."
Her lower lip quivered slightly. "I'm Sophie's sister, Lucy."
Sister? No wonder he'd thought the woman from the bar seemed familiar. They had the same dainty nose, the same fiery good looks, barring the hair color, the same great bod, but this one had a peculiar odor....
"What's that smell?"
Lucy turned up her nose. "My lucky charm—it's garlic and a few natural herbs."
She was certifiable.
"Now, mister, if you don't release me, I'm going to scream bloody murder and grab your balls and twist 'em until they fall off."
Laughter sputtered from him, but the fierce wildcat eyes told him she'd try to fulfill her threat. He braced himself for control, difficult since he was running on forty-eight hours without sleep. "My name is Lance Summers. I'm the contractor your sister hired to renovate her house."
"Oh." She relaxed slightly, her eyes skating over him, recognition dawning. "You're number two, the one who gave the dorky answers on her dating game show."
He gritted his teeth. Had everyone in the United States watched that ridiculous episode? "Yep, that's me."
"You need to work on your approach," she said, offering him a sweet smile as her gaze dropped to his hands where they still gripped her.
He released her and stood, then extended a hand. "And you need to learn to use the door."
"I forgot my key."
"You could have knocked."
"I didn't think anyone was home."
Right. He explained his reasons for sacking out on the couch while she stooped to gather her suitcase. He had assumed they were her personal things, but he suddenly realized that the suitcase had been filled with sex toys. A rubber dildo had rolled to a stop beside his feet, a fake set of plastic boobs sat with jiggling nipples jutting heavenward in the corner, and chocolate-scented underwear fringed with licorice had caught on the lamp, looking oddly out of place next to the Victorian shade.
Of course, the phone chose that time to ring. He glanced in the den, then realized it wasn't the home phone. Lucy dug around in her mammoth purse, extracted a cell phone, and flipped it open just as he spoke.
"You can't stay here," he said. "I'll take you to a hotel."
Lucy gave him an odd look, then said into the phone, "Oh, hey, Soph. I just got here." She shoved a mass of hair from her eyes. "No, you heard right. Your contractor just offered to take me to a hotel."
Chapter 5
Sophie clutched the phone in horror, reminders of her past life with Lucy-on-the-prowl floating back. Not that she blamed her little sister for attracting men—lust and Lucy were synonymous. But still, her baby sister possessed a naive innocence, and Sophie had lost boyfriends to luscious Lucy before, and Lance was... Lance.
Damn it.
She cleared her throat to find her voice. "You're
"What the hell?" He hit the light, the piece of wood at the ready, and gaped at the leggy strawberry blonde with the wild hair—it was the same strawberry blonde he'd noticed earlier at the bar causing trouble. Had she followed him here to rob him?
She saw him and screamed at the top of her lungs. Swinging her fists at his legs to take him down, she caught his ankle. He yelped, dropped the wooden beam, and collapsed onto the floor, cradling his aching shin. Good Lord, the woman had nearly broken his leg.
She was spitting and cursing and flailing her fists at him. "Help, burglar! Help!"
He winced as her claws dug into his ankle, then grabbed her arms and pinned them to her sides.
"Why the hell are you screaming? You broke in!"
She stilled slightly and stared up at him, eyes wide with terror and temper. He loosened his grip. "Who are you?"
"Who are you?"
"I asked first."
Her lower lip quivered slightly. "I'm Sophie's sister, Lucy."
Sister? No wonder he'd thought the woman from the bar seemed familiar. They had the same dainty nose, the same fiery good looks, barring the hair color, the same great bod, but this one had a peculiar odor....
"What's that smell?"
Lucy turned up her nose. "My lucky charm—it's garlic and a few natural herbs."
She was certifiable.
"Now, mister, if you don't release me, I'm going to scream bloody murder and grab your balls and twist 'em until they fall off."
Laughter sputtered from him, but the fierce wildcat eyes told him she'd try to fulfill her threat. He braced himself for control, difficult since he was running on forty-eight hours without sleep. "My name is Lance Summers. I'm the contractor your sister hired to renovate her house."
"Oh." She relaxed slightly, her eyes skating over him, recognition dawning. "You're number two, the one who gave the dorky answers on her dating game show."
He gritted his teeth. Had everyone in the United States watched that ridiculous episode? "Yep, that's me."
"You need to work on your approach," she said, offering him a sweet smile as her gaze dropped to his hands where they still gripped her.
He released her and stood, then extended a hand. "And you need to learn to use the door."
"I forgot my key."
"You could have knocked."
"I didn't think anyone was home."
Right. He explained his reasons for sacking out on the couch while she stooped to gather her suitcase. He had assumed they were her personal things, but he suddenly realized that the suitcase had been filled with sex toys. A rubber dildo had rolled to a stop beside his feet, a fake set of plastic boobs sat with jiggling nipples jutting heavenward in the corner, and chocolate-scented underwear fringed with licorice had caught on the lamp, looking oddly out of place next to the Victorian shade.
Of course, the phone chose that time to ring. He glanced in the den, then realized it wasn't the home phone. Lucy dug around in her mammoth purse, extracted a cell phone, and flipped it open just as he spoke.
"You can't stay here," he said. "I'll take you to a hotel."
Lucy gave him an odd look, then said into the phone, "Oh, hey, Soph. I just got here." She shoved a mass of hair from her eyes. "No, you heard right. Your contractor just offered to take me to a hotel."
Chapter 5
Sophie clutched the phone in horror, reminders of her past life with Lucy-on-the-prowl floating back. Not that she blamed her little sister for attracting men—lust and Lucy were synonymous. But still, her baby sister possessed a naive innocence, and Sophie had lost boyfriends to luscious Lucy before, and Lance was... Lance.
Damn it.
She cleared her throat to find her voice. "You're
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