Safe in the Tycoon's Arms. Jennifer Faye

      Kate’s cold fingertips brushed over the back of his hand as she accepted the robe. His instinct was to take her hands in his and rub them until they were warm. But he resisted the temptation. She wasn’t his guest...his responsibility.

      While she slipped on the robe, he stepped back, giving her some space. He pulled the shirt over his head. Now they could have a reasonable conversation.

      Fully clothed, he glanced up, finding Kate’s brows furrowed as she stared at him. He followed her line of vision to a large hole in his jeans above his knee as well as the army of white smudges marking up both legs. He really should consider tossing them, but they were just so comfortable. Wait. Why should he care what this woman thought of him or his clothes? After tonight he’d never see her again.

      Kate shoved up the sleeves on the robe and crossed her arms. “What do you propose we do?”

      In any other situation, he’d show her to the door and wish her well. After all, she wasn’t his problem. And being drawn in by her very kissable lips and the memory of how that threadbare shirt hugged her curves was a complication in his life that he just didn’t need.

      But her pale face with those dark smudges beneath her eyes dug at his resolve.

      And he couldn’t dismiss the fact his aunt had sent Kate to stay here. Not that his aunt didn’t help people on a daily basis, but she knew this house was off-limits to everyone. That meant Kate was someone special. Now he really needed to speak to his aunt, but first he had to make things clear to Kate.

      “There’s something you should know. This is my house.”

       CHAPTER TWO

      KATE EYED UP Mr. Oh-So-Sexy’s faded T-shirt and threadbare denim. Even her ratty old jeans were in better condition. Did she look gullible enough to swallow his story that he was the owner of this mansion? That would make him wealthy. Very wealthy. And he sure didn’t look the part.

      “Why should I believe you own this house?”

      He frowned. “Because I’m Lucas Carrington. Connie’s nephew.”

      His unwavering tone gave her pause. She studied his aristocratic nose, piercing blue eyes and sensual lips. The wheels in her mind began to spin. No wonder he seemed so familiar. During her many hours at the hospital, she’d ended up thumbing through one magazine after the other. It was within one of those stylish periodicals that she’d skimmed over an article listing this year’s most eligible bachelors.

      Lucas Carrington had been named Bachelor of the Year. And he had been by far the steamiest candidate on the list. And that had been before she’d garnered a glimpse of his ripped abs. Her mouth grew dry at the memory. She instantly squashed the thought.

      The reality of the situation at last sunk in. That man—the hunk from the popular magazine—was standing in front of her in his bare feet. And she was accusing him of being an intruder. This had to be some sort of crazy, mixed-up dream.

      “I see my name has rung a bell.” Smugness reflected in his captivating eyes. “Perhaps my aunt mentioned me.”

      The fact he’d been holding that ace up his sleeve the whole time instead of introducing himself up front annoyed her. She wasn’t about to fold her hand so quickly—even if she had been beaten already.

      She conjured up her best poker face. “Actually, Connie went to great pains not to mention you. She merely said the owner was out of town for an extended period. In fact, when I saw the condition of this place, I didn’t think anyone had lived here in years.”

      A muscle twitched in his cheek as his gaze moved away. “I only need a couple of the rooms. Even when I’m in town, I’m not here much.”

      “I see.” What else could she say? That it was a bit strange to live in a mansion filled with cobwebs and covered in a blanket of dust? But who was she to judge? She was living out of a suitcase, and by the end of the month, she would be technically homeless. The thought of being adrift with no place to call home sent her stomach plummeting. But she could only deal with one problem at a time.

      Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “Why do you keep looking at me strangely?”

      “I’m trying to decide whether I should believe you. I mean, I wouldn’t expect such a wealthy man to wear...umm, that.” She pointed at his tattered jeans.

      Even though she knew that he was in fact Lucas Carrington, she didn’t want to let on just yet. After all, he hadn’t readily taken her word that she wasn’t a squatter. Why not let him see what it was like not to be believed?

      He shrugged. “So they’re old jeans. It doesn’t mean anything.”

      “I don’t know. This could all be an act. How am I to know that you aren’t pretending to be the owner? Maybe I should call the police and let them sort this out.”

      Instead of the angry response she’d been anticipating, the corners of his mouth lifted. Was that a smile? Her stomach somersaulted.

      “I guess I deserve that. Wait here.” He set off in the same direction he’d gone to grab his clothes and the robe he’d loaned her.

      The scorching hot image of him in those boxer shorts flashed in her mind. Her pulse kicked up a notch or two. If Lucas wasn’t already wealthy, he could make a fortune as an underwear model. She’d be first in line to buy the magazine.

      Still a bit chilled, she snuggled up in the robe, noticing the fresh scent of aftershave. She lifted the plush material to her nose, unable to resist inhaling even deeper. Mmm...

      “Is the robe okay?” His smooth, deep voice filled the room.

      “Umm...yes.” She smoothed the lapel. “I was just admiring its...its softness.”

      He nodded, but she wondered if he’d caught her getting high off his very masculine scent. No man had a right to smell that good or look that hot with his clothes on...or off.

      He skirted around the kitchen island and headed for her. Kate held her ground, all the while wondering what he was up to.

      “Here.” He flipped open a black wallet. “This should clear things up.”

      Her fingers slid across the worn smooth leather. She really didn’t need to see his driver’s license, but she had started this, so she might as well follow through.

      She glanced at the photo of a neatly groomed man in a suit and tie. Definitely Lucas, but the spiffed-up version. The funny thing was she liked him in his worn-out jeans and sloppy T-shirt as much if not more than his business persona.

      “So now do you believe me?” he asked with a tone of smug satisfaction, as if he’d just one-upped her.

      She didn’t like him thinking that he’d gotten the best of her.

      “I don’t know.” She held the ID up beside his face, hmm-ing and hah-ing, as though trying to make up her mind. “There’s definitely a resemblance, but I’m not sure.”

      He yanked the card from her hand and stared at it. “Of course it’s me! And that’s my address...this address.”

      At last he’d fallen off his cool, confident edge. A smile pulled at her lips. The action felt so foreign to her after the past few stressful months, but the lightness grew, erupting into laughter. The more she laughed, the deeper Lucas frowned. It had been so long since she’d had an occasion to laugh that she didn’t want it to end. It felt so good. So liberating. So freeing.

      His brow arched. “Have I amused you enough?”

      Her cheeks started to ache and she forced herself to calm down. After dabbing both eyes, she gazed up at him. “Sorry about that. But you don’t know how much I needed that laugh.”

      His brows rose higher, but he didn’t