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and since her mother’s suicide, he was all the family Marguerite had.
    She couldn’t see Wren anymore. She couldn’t. No matter what these weird feelings inside her thought or argued, their acquaintance was over.

Chapter 4
    Marguerite tucked her books into her borrowed backpack. She still hadn’t found her Prada. She couldn’t imagine what had happened to it. She’d checked the lost and found at the library a dozen times. It wasn’t like her to lose something like that.
    Sighing, she got up from her desk to head off to the library and meet with her group.
    As she left the building and headed across the lawn, she wasn’t paying attention until she heard a man calling out, “Maggie.” His voice was so deep and rumbling that it sent a shiver down her spine.
    There was only one person she knew who held a voice like that. Only one person who called her Maggie nowadays.…
    Pausing, she turned to see Wren coming toward her from the street. He moved with a graceful, masculine lope that sent a heated wave through her. He had on a pair of faded jeans that had holes in both knees, black biker boots, and a black T-shirt with a ragged red and black flannel shirt worn over it that he’d left unbuttoned. She’d never known anyone to dress so haphazardly, and there was something about the clothes that made him seem like a young teenager.
    But that aside, it was obvious that he was completely ripped. A fact she knew firsthand since she’d seen him without those shirts on. There was also a dangerous confidence about him that said he was a lot older than he appeared at first glance.
    He kept one arm behind him as he moved to stand just before her. She shivered at his commanding presence. He was so much taller than her, and those eyes …
    There were times when they didn’t seem quite human.
    â€œShould you be upright?” she asked.
    He shrugged with a nonchalance that she couldn’t fathom. “I told you it wasn’t fatal.” He brought her backpack around from behind him. “But I thought you might want this back. You left it in the bar the other night.”
    â€œOh, thank goodness!” she said, delighted to have it returned to her.
    â€œYou stunned me so much when you came to my room yesterday that I forgot I had it.”
    She smiled up at him, grateful that he’d gone to such trouble to bring it here. “You didn’t have to bring it to me. You could have just called and I would have come for it.”
    â€œI didn’t have your number.”
    â€œOh,” she said as she realized that she hadn’t given it to him. Which brought up another question. “How did you find me here?”
    He didn’t answer. In fact, he looked rather uncomfortable at her question. “I should be going.”
    â€œWhat the hell is this?”
    Marguerite looked past Wren’s shoulder to see Blaine with a group of his frat brothers. She drew a sharp intake of breath. This wasn’t good. Knowing Blaine, he’d see this as a direct violation of his territory by Wren, and with his friends backing him, there was no telling what he might do. Blaine could be a total prick when he wanted to.
    â€œIt’s none of your business, Blaine,” she snapped in warning. “Go on and leave us alone.”
    He didn’t take her obvious hint.
    Blaine glared at them. “What are we having here, revenge of the busboy? In case you haven’t noticed, pal, there aren’t any tables out here in need of cleaning.”
    She could sense the rage that was swelling inside of Wren. Luckily, he was holding it back.
    She glared at Blaine. “Leave him alone, Blaine. Now.”
    Blaine sneered at Wren as he raked a disgusted stare over Wren’s clothes. “What? Can’t you afford a real pair of pants? Or are you so hot natured, you need natural ventilation?”
    â€œBlaine,” she growled.
    â€œWhat kind of hair is