Chapter 4

The cell phone alarm buzzed, a light musical chime accompanying the vibrations. Felicity fumbled on the nightstand for the phone and silenced it.

6:00 a.m. Two and a half hours until her American Colonial Art paper was due. The urge to get up and get moving just wasn't there. The bed was warm, and she felt safe. The last thing she wanted to do was get up and think about a bunch of colonists and loyalists duking it out in the seventeen hundreds and how that had affected painting styles in Colonial America. Right now she wanted to stay where she was, cocooned in heat, and drift back to that pleasant place between being awake and dreaming.

It was then she noticed the long, muscled arm curled around her waist, tucking her back against a hard, warm body.

What the

Another rattling buzz. This time it came from the other side of the bed. She rolled over, careful not to wake the man in bed next to her. A wall of muscled male chest met her face. Her gaze raked up the bare torso of the man to his face where it rested on his pillow.

Jared Redmond.

She was sharing a bed with Tanner's brother. Had she really let him untie her dress and corset last night? Her eyes closed for a brief instant as she pushed back her shyness. He was still asleep, and she took advantage of it to study his face. It was a nice face, not too handsome, yet somehow sexy and incredibly attractive. Strong jaw, aquiline nose, too-long dark eyelashes fanned over slightly tanned skin. Dark brows winged over eyes that she knew had to be dark brown like his brother's. He was the sort of man who wasn't a pretty boy, yet he had some serious animal magnetism even while he slept.

Her fingers tingled as she resisted the urge to reach out and trace his lips. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. His hair was a rich chocolate, long enough to tunnel her fingers through. Would it be silky or slightly rough in texture? She nibbled her bottom lip.

This was the closest she'd ever been to a man beforeat least in bedand it was fascinating and a little unnerving. A shadow of a beard made him look older, a little rugged. The pit of her stomach dropped, and she shivered with excitement. He was only thirty, but that felt so much older than her at the moment. He was a man.

Jared had the body of a man, unlike the graduate student guys in her classes. He was hot and dangerous looking, and every time she thought about that, her stomach quivered. She was in his bed, as he'd said the night before. She'd been helpless to resist when he'd gently commanded her to undress with that deep baritone voice of his. She glanced down at herself. His shirt and boxers were large and comfortable on her, and the intimacy of wearing his clothes had her heart thrumming like a hummingbird's wings.

That other phone was buzzing again on his side of the bed. Suddenly he jerked, rolling away as he picked up the phone.

Had he been awake this whole time? Did he know she'd been just staring at him? Had he meant to be holding her so close when she'd woken up?

God, I'm such an idiot.

"Hell," Jared muttered and fell back on his bed, eyes closed, his phone silenced. Two breaths more, and then he spoke again. "So you getting up? I'll let you shower first."

"What?" He was offering her his shower? Before she wouldn't have thought twice about using it, but now that its owner was here, she'd figured she'd skip it until after her test. The idea of her being naked with just a door between them sent a little shiver through her.

"The shower. It's yours. I'm still waking up." He twisted to face her, propping his head on his hand to stare at her.

"Get moving, princess. Or else I might give in to my desire to kiss you. A man can only stand so much temptation." He chuckled.

Felicity shot out of the bed like she'd been fired out of a cannon. Kiss her? Was he serious?

"I'm a good kisser," he called out after her.

He was still laughing, probably because of the look she knew he must be seeing on her face. His grin hit her right behind the knees. She retreated, her back hitting his dresser.

"I­um­have a term paper due." That was stupid. She was making it worse by opening her mouth. She mentally smacked herself and ran to the shower. Cranking the nozzle to hot, she picked up her bag from the bathroom floor and searched for her toiletries.

The water burned her skin, and she sighed. Her own apartment had hot water only when the water heater thought it could handle the building's demands, which wasn't often. And when it did bother to work, the pipes rocked inside the walls, creating a banging noise that drove her crazy.

Staying here at Jared's apartment was like staying in a four-star hotel. Scrubbing her face in her hands, she let the water pour over her. The tension in her shoulders eased. Not once last night had she woken up. Where she'd grown up, she'd fallen asleep to the melody of crickets and other country sounds. But here in Chicago, with her apartment's paper-thin walls, all she heard were the violent sounds of the city outside. Ambulances, shouting neighbors, banging pipes, slamming stairwell doors, and the endless creaks and groans as the elevator ground through its gears. Felicity was lucky to get even an hour or two of uninterrupted sleep. Last night had been amazing. Just silence and warmth. Ironically, sleeping with a total strangerand a man, at thathad been one of the most restful nights of sleep she'd had in a long time.

Felicity's skin tingled as she remembered the way it felt to roll over and see him so close. Shock aside, it had been nice. Layla must never find out. She'd try to hook her up with Jared. It would be a bad idea. Between school and work, she didn't have time. Not to mention she and Jared were nothing alike and had nothing in common. He was a hotshot lawyer, and she was an art student. She doubted he'd even be interested in her, his jokes about kisses aside.

Rinsing the last bit of soap and conditioner away, she slipped out of the shower and pulled one of the large fluffy white towels off the shelf next to the shower. The towel fit around her body perfectly, and she was able to tuck the corner of it in near the tops of her breasts to keep it on so she could rummage around the drawers of the bathroom counter. There had to be a hairdryer in here somewhere. She hadn't thought to pack one since Layla had said she could borrow one, but it wasn't as though she could go parading past Jared in nothing but a towel to find Layla's hairdryer.

"What do you need?"

Jared's deep voice made her freeze as she bent over the drawer, her bottom in the air.

"I can help you find whatever you need­although I do love this angle, if you want to keep looking for whatever it is."

"Oh!" She whirled around, hands clutching her towel so it wouldn't drop.

When she raised her gaze, she found him standing in the open bathroom door, wearing only pajama pants. He leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. His body was lightly tan, the muscles lean but impressive now that she could see them at a better angle. His pants hung on his narrow hips, and she gulped at the visible V-shaped line of muscles at his hips that seemed to point farther south to places hidden from her eyes. A perfect six-pack. How did a guy get those? They looked too good to be true. She certainly didn't look like she lived in the gym. Her fingers went white-knuckled on the towel. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her fuller figure. No matter how many diets she tried or how much she exercised, she could never get down to anything below a size twelve.

"What are you looking for?" he asked again. His gaze lazily drifted from her face down the length of her body. Was that approval in his eyes? Why did she suddenly want him to approve of her?

"I­uh­hairdryer, please?" She was usually more articulate. The man had the ability to destroy her control over her own mouth.

He pointed to below the sink. "Should be there."

"Thanks."

"Coffee or tea?" he asked.

"Tea," she replied without thinking.

"I'll make some in the kitchen. Come out when you're done." He didn't give her a chance to protest. The bathroom door closed, and he was gone.

Felicity scrambled through her morning routine, and in fifteen minutes she was dressed in jeans and a comfortable navy-blue sweater with a gray anchor on it. Sitting back on Jared's bed, she tugged on her worn pair of leather ankle boots. The bedroom was empty, so she headed to the kitchen. A few lone plastic cups lay on surfaces around the apartment, the only remnants of the wild party from the night before. Other than that, the place was surprisingly clean. Out of habit, she collected the few cups and walked into the kitchen to throw them away.

"Over here, sailor." Jared was at the other end of the kitchen, where the table was set for two.

He looked more delicious than the breakfast he'd prepared. He stood there in his pajama pants and shirtless, making her mouth water. His feet were bare, and for some reason that made her smile. She tried not to look at his chest, but it was pretty hard not to admire its muscled perfection. It reminded her of the times she and Layla would spend a night eating pizza and drooling over the gorgeous hunks in Men's Health magazine. Jared could have been posing for an article on six-pack abs.

Even though he was the one half-dressed, it made her feel strangely naked. The half-smile that hovered around his lips told her he knew she was uncomfortable and a little flushed.

Waffles, scrambled eggs, and bacon were already on the plates, and two cups of tea were waiting, steam coiling up in the air in milky tendrils. Her mind blanked. He was feeding her, too? What sort of man did that? Take care of a woman? Definitely none she knew. He fed her, clothed her­without threats, without demanding she accept what he offered. Something about that made her chest ache. She needed to regain control of her emotions.

"Sailor?" she asked.

"Your sweater." His lips twitched as he sat down at the table.

She glanced down at the anchor. "Oh, right." What was with him and the nicknames? Kid, princess, sailor­

She dropped into the seat across from him and reached for her cup of tea. The porcelain cup burned her fingersnot quite to the point of pain, but enough to make the rest of her warm. She loved that about tea, the way even holding it in her hands could erase a bone-deep chill.

Jared watched her. The weight of his gaze was an almost tangible touch. Felicity shifted in her chair as she wriggled under his scrutiny.

"What paper do you have this morning?" he asked after a moment of painfully awkward silence.

"It's an analysis of the changing artistic painting styles in Colonial America during the Revolutionary War." She sipped her tea. Irish Breakfast. Her favorite.

Jared dug into his waffle, chewing thoughtfully. "You pick that by choice or force?"

She didn't understand his question. "I picked it. I'm an art history major."

"Ah­that explains the costume. You, princess, are a nerd." His judgmental smirk made her want to punch him, yet she still also found it infuriatingly attractive.

A prickle of indignation buried beneath her skin. Nerd? Nerd!

"I am not. Appreciating history isn't bad," she countered.

With a scrape of a fork over the plate he continued to eat, his whiskey brown eyes fixed on her every few seconds.

"Never said it was bad."

Okay. Felicity wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she decided to eat in silence. After a few bitesdelicious onesshe realized she had relaxed a little more around him. She'd slept with Jared. Well, not slept with him, but being around him and not making a fool of herself by being too awkward was impressive when she'd rarely spent time alone with any guys back home. Instead, her heart beat a little quicker, her mouth was desert-dry, and her hands trembled with excitement.

"So­Layla said you're an attorney?" She decided to try small talk again. Her plate was wiped clean and so was his. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, fingers laced as he studied her.

"Yeah. I focus on real estate transactions. I'm an associate attorney at Pimms & Associates LLP."

The name didn't sound familiar, not that it should have. She and Jared moved in very different circles. She was a graduate student with no connections to any big companies in the city, especially not law firms. And she wasn't from Omaha like Jared. She was just a small-town girl, but he didn't make her feel that way.

For the last couple of months of being around Tanner, she'd learned the Redmonds were wealthy, but they had earned it through hard work. More than once Layla had confessed it was one of the things she loved about Tanner. He wasn't a spoiled playboy. He played hard, sure, but he worked hard, too. He was an engineering major. Those students had an intense curriculum. Felicity and Layla joked that one look at Tanner's textbooks gave them headaches.

"Want another waffle?" Jared's voice cut through her thoughts. He was standing right beside her. When had he moved?

"No thanks." She patted her stomach. "Quite full."

"Okay. Just make sure you eat enough to fuel your brain for your research paper." He ruffled a hand over her hair, messing up the artful windblown look she'd spent several minutes that morning perfecting.

"Hey!" she said, swatting his hand away. When he caught her hand and tugged her body against his, she closed her eyes, praying for a kiss.

Gentle fingers cupped her chin and lifted her face. "Look at me, princess."

She pried one eye open, her heart beating wildly. To her surprise, Jared was studying her, but only kindness and curiosity shone in his warm brown eyes. Like rich maple syrup­ She blinked.

"There you are," he murmured more to himself than to her. "Welcome back." He grinned and patted her cheek.

She couldn't escape the crushing disappointment. Why hadn't he kissed her? Was there something wrong with her?

The gesture was patronizing, yet Felicity couldn't summon any anger. No one had ever been playful with her or treated her like a kid, or maybe like a sister. But the look in his eyesthere was something dark and wild there, something that did funny things to her insides. Her lips pursed in a tight line.

"Don't frown, princess." He laughed, his back still to her.

She shot him a scathing look, hot enough to melt steel.

He was already walking back to the sink, whistling a tune under his breath.

"Better get going if you're going to make it to your class." He joined her back at the table and held out a wad of cash. "Cab money." He set the money in her hand and then walked back to the sink, apparently oblivious to her standing there gaping. The water ran as he scrubbed pots. A lawyer who did his own dishes? What next?

"I have money." She attempted to put the money on the counter next to him, but he caught her wrist. The warmth of his hand, slightly slick with dish soap, made her heart skip a beat. She met his gaze, steel determination forcing her not to mentally cower.

"Consider it an apology for whatever I may have said or done last night and for disrupting your sleep. I really wasn't supposed to come back last night, but we closed our sale on time without any issues, so I was able to come back early."

Apology? Was he serious? He'd saved her from a drunken stormtrooper and a Playboy Bunny. She'd felt completely safe with him, like she had her very own knight in shining armor guarding her while she slept. That wasn't the sort of thing a girl like her would forget. She'd never been the damsel-in-distress type, but she had to admit she liked knowing someone had her back, that she wasn't alone. But it wasn't meant to be. She was hoping her boss at her art gallery was going to give her a personal recommendation for a position at the Los Angeles County Museum of Arts, or LACMA as it was called. If she got that job, she'd be leaving Chicago at the end of the school year when she graduated. That meant no dating, no lovenot here, not with him.

"Look, this is really" She pulled out of his grasp, unnerved by how unafraid of his touch she was.

"Let a man be chivalrous once in a while. We like it. Makes us feel needed." He dried his hands off and tucked the money in the front of her jeans.

Heat exploded through her in an almost violent rush as he invaded her space yet again. Why was she letting him affect her like that?

"No argument?" he teased.

She shook her head, her mind a little blank as she got lost in the splinters of gold and the flecks of green in his eyes. She hadn't seen that before. They weren't hazel, but the brown had a myriad of subtle colors in it. His eyes made her think of summer sun and lazy afternoons, the few in her life she'd been able to enjoy. She licked her lips, trying to erase the cotton-dry feeling in her mouth.

"Go get your stuff and get out of here. I don't want you to miss out on the colonial artwork." He winked.

Felicity finally found control of her body, and she hastily left the kitchen to pack her things. She left her change of clothes in her gym bag in Jared's room, even though she wanted to leave it with Layla. There was no way she was interrupting Layla and Tanner in bed. Right now she had to focus on her term paper. She couldn't afford to jeopardize her scholarship. Not even to linger one more minute in the presence of a handsome man who was just a little too sexy and a little too dangerous. Not scary dangerous, but the sort of dangerous that, if she wasn't careful, she might fall hopelessly in love with him. She'd had her heart broken already, and trust wasn't easy for her. The last thing she needed was Jared destroying her carefully-constructed fortress.

Yeah, he was dangerous all right.