ROMeANTICALLY CHALLENGED. Marina Adair

PTA moms are a bad dad move,” Levi said. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there.”

      “Okay, so I avoid the moms and drive Paisley home. I mean, I’m here, I can do it and still have plenty of time to get better acquainted with Anh.” Emmitt forced himself to appear more casual than he felt. He’d love to spend his afternoons helping Paisley with homework, making after-school snacks, kicking the soccer ball around. Getting to know Anh wouldn’t be a hardship either, but he’d mainly added that part to piss off Gray.

      “For how long?” When Emmitt started to argue, Gray held up a silencing hand. “You’re here now, which is great. But in a few weeks, when you get bored or a new assignment comes in and you head off to Siberia, we’re stuck without someone to hang with Paisley after school. Because you’ll be gone, and Annie will have bailed even though you told her up-front you’re only capable of casual. Because we all know, when it comes to you and women, they all think they will be the one to change you from globe-trotter to groom. But she won’t. She’ll be heartbroken and then quit. I’ll be out a PA, and a sitter, and it’ll be Paisley who suffers.”

      “Annie’s had it rough,” Levi added. “She came here to put her life back together. Not have her heart stomped on by some guy who’s just passing through.”

      “Passing through?” Emmitt scoffed. “I own a fucking house.”

      “That I spend more time showing to potential tenants than you do sleeping in it,” Levi pointed out. “To be safe, why don’t you crash on my boat?”

      “And listen to you snore all night?” Emmitt shook his head. “Thanks, but you’re not my type.”

      “Neither is Annie and we both know it,” Gray said, proving just how little he knew about Emmitt.

      Annie was absolutely, positively, tight bod with a sharp tongue and soft lips, his type—which was why he tended to steer clear of women like her. It wasn’t his fault fate had a twisted sense of humor.

      He wasn’t sure what was going on with Annie’s love life, but based on what he’d heard, he had a pretty good idea. And it pissed him off that his two closest friends would lump him in with a guy like Clark. Emmitt had never once led a woman on. He was up-front and honest about what he was looking for and what he was capable of.

      Women knew the score before he even ordered a second round.

      “I know that what Annie and I do is none of your damn business,” Emmitt said, loving to watch Gray squirm. “I also know she’s a grown woman capable of making choices for herself, unless you think otherwise. I’d be happy to pass on your concerns about her ability to navigate the dating world, Doctor.”

      “Just leave her alone. You can have any other woman in town, just not Annie,” Gray said, and Levi shook his head. “What?”

      “Man, you just issued him a challenge,” Levi said.

      “Which I have accepted. And I’ll pick Paisley up at two.”

      Chapter 5

      Annie was in a bad mood. Any hope she’d had that her new roommate was just some terrible nightmare vanished when she was jarred awake at two in the morning by the front door slamming shut, signaling his return.

      If his mother had taught him any manners, he’d long since forgotten them.

      Emmitt flicked on every light in the house, including the hall light, which lit up her room like a solar flare. Then—as if to let her know it was intentional—he made himself a smoothie of metal bolts, glass shards, and the wails of small children.

      Not even her noise-canceling headphones could block out the sound.

      Whistling, he opened and closed some cupboards—seven to be exact—then slammed a few more before settling in for a long summer’s snooze. Based on his sonic boom of a snore, evidently the hall light didn’t bother him, because he’d left it burning bright.

      And he’d been the one to make her feel guilty for waking him up at an hour when most people would be sitting down for dinner.

      Beyond irritated by the hypocrisy of it all—another thing to add to her WORST ROOMMATE EVER list, right between HUMBLE-BRAGGING and STEALING MY BEER—she flung back the covers; marched out the door; and came to a sudden, startled stop as the bottom of her stomach dropped out.

      Sweet baby Jesus. Her lungs seized, unable to release any air because three feet in front of her was Rome’s very own Romeo. Sprawled out on the recliner, with his ballcap pulled low, he and his Calvin Kleins were on full display. The man clearly had a thing against wearing pants.

      Or he was marking his territory. Bringing out the big guns—the big everything.

      She barely had time to register that he’d moved the recliner one hundred and eighty degrees, leaned it all the way back with the footrest fully extended, successfully blocking any escape come morning. Because her attention was drawn elsewhere.

      With her blue fuzzy blanket only partially covering him, she was able to watch the hypnotic rise and fall of his chest—his very defined chest that had just the right amount of hair and just the right amount of muscle.

      The peaceful way he slept irritated her. One arm flung over his eyes, a leg resting on the floor, and—hello—if that was his morning wood at two a.m., her body sighed a breathy oh my at the thought of how it would look come sunrise.

      Placing a hand to her chest, Annie gave herself five seconds to gawk. Five seconds, then she’d retreat and he’d never know, because he’d clearly won this battle. As she saw it, her only other options were:

      1. Hope that he’d wake up before she had to go to work and move the chair—not likely, because he was settled in for the long haul.

      2. Nudge him awake and tell him he was a jerk—which meant admitting he was getting to her.

      3. Come morning, crawl under the footrest—only, she was done shimmying for any man.

      4. Crawl over him while he was half-naked—and wouldn’t that just make his entire year to catch her on top of him, her heart going pitter-patter.

      Which led her to another problem. When he was sleeping and not spewing man-speak, he almost looked human.

      She could see how some women could find his strong, capable hands and washboard abs appealing. He was tall, fit, handsome in that worldly way that showed he’d lived a full life.

      Oh, who was she kidding. The man was sex-tabulous.

      “Reconsidering that spooning offer?” The deep rusty voice brought her attention to the fact that while she had been watching him, he’d been watching her. “There’s room.”

      He patted his lap, mere inches from his mighty impressive package, and Annie’s heart picked up pace as if it were racing in the Indy 500.

      She pinned her guilty and embarrassed gaze on his, which was not embarrassed at all. His lack of pants didn’t seem to affect him one iota, just brought a charming grin to his lips, and amusement—plus something a whole lot more dangerous—to his eyes.

      “Nope. Merely reevaluating our public education system. Are you illiterate or just rude?”

      Emmitt glanced at the empty carton on the ground with a big neon pink “Anh’s, Do Not Drink” sticky note stuck to the front of it. “Rude would be putting it back with just a swallow left.” He shifted in the chair, the movement starting a domino effect of ripples from his shoulder muscles all the way down past his abs.

      His pecs danced mockingly, and Annie jerked her gaze north to find him smiling. “Now who’s the one being rude?” He tsked. “Objectifying me when I’m in a vulnerable position.”

      She snorted. “Please, you knew exactly what you were doing when you decided to park yourself in a chair in the hallway in nothing but your boxers.”

      Picking