she was studying him as if there
was something wrong with him.
"Jillian, she’s your landlady?"
He nodded.
"So she's a writer?"
He nodded again as he looked back at the screen. He was fine
until some jean-clad man with light hair and a cocky grin ran his finger down
her arm.
"I think that's enough of that."
"Conner."
But he ignored Dee. He walked down the stairs to the floor
and didn't slow until he got to their table.
Micah smiled at him, but Conner was ready to punch him.
"Conner, it's great to see you here."
Jillian spun around. "Conner? I thought you were going
to see some old friends."
"I am. Dee, and to a point, Micah."
"Gee, thanks, Dillon," Micah said, but there was a
thick thread of humor in his voice.
"What the holy hell are you doing here?"
She blinked at him, and he didn't blame her. His tone was
proprietary, as if she had to answer to him.
"I'm researching."
"Is that what they call it now?"
She frowned at him and her eyes narrowed, but before she
could say anything, the man who had touched her opened his big damned mouth.
"I've never known a man who’s won a fight with a woman,
mate. You might want to step back."
He glanced around Jillian and gave the man a nasty look, but
his smile just widened.
"Elias St John, meet an old friend of the family, on
Dee's side of course, former-agent Conner Dillon."
His eyes widened. "Dillon Securities?"
He nodded.
"Great operation you have there. I might want to talk
to you about some security over at my ranch."
"I'm not licensed to work in Australia."
He laughed. "No, I own a ranch on the Big Island."
He dismissed the cocky bastard and studied Jillian. She had
put on some makeup, and she had some kind of sparkly earrings dangling from her
ears. Dammit. Noticing them made him think of just where else she might be
pierced. It had been driving him crazy for days.
"What I would like to know is what you are doing
here?"
She looked ready to hit him. "I don't think I have to
answer any questions."
He knew he was acting out of character, and he didn't have a
right to do what he was doing.
"No, you don't. You just didn't tell me you were coming
here."
He heard a snort, and he was sure it was Micah.
"First, you didn't ask. Second, I don't think I have to
clear my schedule with you."
He frowned at her, but she ignored him. Dee stepped up
beside him. He glanced at her, but Dee wasn’t paying attention to him. She was
smiling at Jillian.
“Hi,” Dee said, throwing him an amused look.
"I take it that you're Dee?" Jillian asked.
She had dismissed him. Something close to irritation, with a
dose of possessiveness, moved through him. Conner didn’t like it one bit. He
knew he was attracted to her, even entertained the idea of an affair, but he
rarely got jealous over lovers. Not since he was a teenager had he felt the
need to gain a woman’s attention. He didn’t like it one bit.
Apparently, Dee picked up on his feelings because she gave
him a smile before turning to face Jillian.
"Yes, I am. I take it you're the writer?" Dee
asked. There was more than a little humor in her voice.
Jillian nodded, but before she could say anything else, St
John muscled his way into the conversation.
"A writer?" St John asked. "What kind of
writer?"
The suspicion in his tone caught Conner's attention. He
studied the alertness in the man, the way St John now looked to be accessing
Jillian in a way that had nothing to do with sex.
It was so subtle that most people wouldn’t pick up on it,
but Conner’s years of training taught him to pay attention to the small cues.
"Romance, mainly erotic romance."
"Ah," was all the Aussie said for a moment and
seemed to relax. "Romance, you say?"
Conner had heard the tone before from people. He hadn't
spent much time until recently with Jillian, but he knew the way her back
straightened that St John was in trouble. Maura had said that Jillian hated to
be hit on because she was a romance author. Men seemed to think she was
was something wrong with him.
"Jillian, she’s your landlady?"
He nodded.
"So she's a writer?"
He nodded again as he looked back at the screen. He was fine
until some jean-clad man with light hair and a cocky grin ran his finger down
her arm.
"I think that's enough of that."
"Conner."
But he ignored Dee. He walked down the stairs to the floor
and didn't slow until he got to their table.
Micah smiled at him, but Conner was ready to punch him.
"Conner, it's great to see you here."
Jillian spun around. "Conner? I thought you were going
to see some old friends."
"I am. Dee, and to a point, Micah."
"Gee, thanks, Dillon," Micah said, but there was a
thick thread of humor in his voice.
"What the holy hell are you doing here?"
She blinked at him, and he didn't blame her. His tone was
proprietary, as if she had to answer to him.
"I'm researching."
"Is that what they call it now?"
She frowned at him and her eyes narrowed, but before she
could say anything, the man who had touched her opened his big damned mouth.
"I've never known a man who’s won a fight with a woman,
mate. You might want to step back."
He glanced around Jillian and gave the man a nasty look, but
his smile just widened.
"Elias St John, meet an old friend of the family, on
Dee's side of course, former-agent Conner Dillon."
His eyes widened. "Dillon Securities?"
He nodded.
"Great operation you have there. I might want to talk
to you about some security over at my ranch."
"I'm not licensed to work in Australia."
He laughed. "No, I own a ranch on the Big Island."
He dismissed the cocky bastard and studied Jillian. She had
put on some makeup, and she had some kind of sparkly earrings dangling from her
ears. Dammit. Noticing them made him think of just where else she might be
pierced. It had been driving him crazy for days.
"What I would like to know is what you are doing
here?"
She looked ready to hit him. "I don't think I have to
answer any questions."
He knew he was acting out of character, and he didn't have a
right to do what he was doing.
"No, you don't. You just didn't tell me you were coming
here."
He heard a snort, and he was sure it was Micah.
"First, you didn't ask. Second, I don't think I have to
clear my schedule with you."
He frowned at her, but she ignored him. Dee stepped up
beside him. He glanced at her, but Dee wasn’t paying attention to him. She was
smiling at Jillian.
“Hi,” Dee said, throwing him an amused look.
"I take it that you're Dee?" Jillian asked.
She had dismissed him. Something close to irritation, with a
dose of possessiveness, moved through him. Conner didn’t like it one bit. He
knew he was attracted to her, even entertained the idea of an affair, but he
rarely got jealous over lovers. Not since he was a teenager had he felt the
need to gain a woman’s attention. He didn’t like it one bit.
Apparently, Dee picked up on his feelings because she gave
him a smile before turning to face Jillian.
"Yes, I am. I take it you're the writer?" Dee
asked. There was more than a little humor in her voice.
Jillian nodded, but before she could say anything else, St
John muscled his way into the conversation.
"A writer?" St John asked. "What kind of
writer?"
The suspicion in his tone caught Conner's attention. He
studied the alertness in the man, the way St John now looked to be accessing
Jillian in a way that had nothing to do with sex.
It was so subtle that most people wouldn’t pick up on it,
but Conner’s years of training taught him to pay attention to the small cues.
"Romance, mainly erotic romance."
"Ah," was all the Aussie said for a moment and
seemed to relax. "Romance, you say?"
Conner had heard the tone before from people. He hadn't
spent much time until recently with Jillian, but he knew the way her back
straightened that St John was in trouble. Maura had said that Jillian hated to
be hit on because she was a romance author. Men seemed to think she was
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