1

She smelled them before she hit the first stair leading up to her thirdfloor apartment.

She gripped the railing and tilted her head, testing their scents—

sifting through the subtle differences that made each one unique. Five males —two of them familiar. The mix of peppermint and lemon-lime energy drink belonged to her cousin, Remy Arsenault. The more understated pine-andleather combo could only be Dominic Prado, Remy’s best friend. The other three were strangers.

She eased down into a slight crouch and calculated the distance from the building to her car.

Even if she made it, Lizette Butler knew today was going to be a very bad day. She took a deep breath, tensed, and prepared to run.

“Don’t,” a deep, rich voice said from behind her apartment door. The low, almost hypnotic tone could only belong to Dom. “You won’t get far,” he added.

Anger boiled up. She surged to her feet. The metal railing under her hand made a pained squealing noise as it bent. She lifted her hand away and carefully patted the abused metal. “Sorry,” she whispered to it. She’d have to slip a note and some money under Tommy’s door later. He was a decent landlord, and he didn’t deserve to pay for her lack of control, even if she had a good excuse.

“Any day now,” Remy said. Even with distance and the door between them, she could hear the undercurrent of laughter.

Make that a very good excuse.

She trudged up the stairs and down the short hall, not bothering to muffle her footsteps. The men in her apartment could have heard a mouse running along the floor. She stopped before the door and stared at the shiny brass 309 tacked on the muddy brown steel.

From inside, Dom said, “It does no good to avoid what you fear, Lizette.” She opened the door and tossed her keys on the table in the tiny foyer. “Who says I’m afraid of you?”

Dom leaned against the white mantle above the fireplace, the can lights in the ceiling making his black hair glint blue in places. Her cousin Remy lounged in the oversized stuffed chair she’d artfully draped with an ocean blue throw—at least she hoped it was artful. Magazines always made the casual throw blanket thing look so easy. Most of the time, hers looked like someone used it and forgot to put it away.

The other three males were the muscle, she supposed—grunts sent to deliver the message or order of the day. They weren’t even trying to look friendly or unassuming. Two stood in identical poses in front of the glass sliders, arms folded, legs braced slightly apart. One brushed past her and stopped by the door.

Blocking the exit.

She swept a hand toward him and the two by the sliders. “Triplets?” she asked, her voice dripping sweetness.

Dom cleared his throat. “Your heart sped up when you scented us,” he said, responding to her first question. “That makes you prey. You’ve forgotten all your lessons.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Yeah, well, I generally don’t come home to such an impressive show of force. What’s with the welcome wagon? You boys looking to escape the great white north? Sorry, but I’m pretty sure all the apartments here are taken, although it’s charming to think of the five of you as roommates.” She snapped her fingers. “Hey, you could pitch an idea for a sitcom!”

Remy grinned and got to his feet, his green eyes twinkling. He stretched his big arms over his head, the movement making his dark gray T-shirt ride up to reveal the bottom of an impressive six-pack, and his fingers nearly grazed the nine-foot ceiling. He crossed the small room and enveloped her in a big bear hug that lifted her feet off the floor.

“Hey!” She thumped his shoulder, which was about as effective as kicking a mountain. Usually people were too intimidated by his size to notice his supermodel good looks. His dirty blond hair flowed back from his forehead in a tumble of curls women would kill for, and it was disheveled most of the time—a combination of infrequent haircuts and his habit of running his fingers through it when he was thinking.

“Sorry.” He lowered her to the ground and then patted her head. “I’ve missed you. You’re the only one with the balls to tease Dominic.”

“Thanks…I think.” She rubbed her crown. She and Remy needed to have a talk about “nice petting” versus “accidentally killing your pet.”

One of the males by the sliders spoke. “We’ll have time for reunions later. We should leave now.” He looked her up and down, his dark eyes disapproving. “As soon as she changes into something appropriate.”

She glanced down at her skinny jeans and cream-colored sweater. What was he complaining about? Sure, the sweater was form-fitting, but it didn’t show any skin. If anything, her outfit was modest compared to what most people wore on campus. Her job as a teaching assistant didn’t have a dress code, but the students seemed to respect her more when she looked like a professor instead of a TA in ripped jeans and sweatshirts. She met the male’s eye and crossed her arms, mirroring his pose. “You’re right, you should leave. Now.”