And she was his lover now. His groin tightened at the thought.
"What is Sean doing at Jacey's?" she asked him. "That place is a health hazard."
"Stoking up on evil coffee and jelly doughnuts," Connor replied. "Sean has theories on how different types of coffee are appropriate for different activities. Hunting pimp assholes calls for gritty, hard-core Jacey's Diner coffee, something that's been sitting on the burner all night long. Starbucks is for nibbling a hazelnut scone, sipping a mocha latte, flirting with cute girls. It's the wrong vibe for serious business. Sean's kind of hyper, so coffee is his natural drug of choice."
He was rewarded for his nonsense by another smile, and it fired him up, made him famished for more of them.
"Speaking of drugs of choice." She shot him a curious glance. "You haven't touched your cigarettes in a long time."
He shrugged. "I must've been distracted by all the other mind-altering substances that my glands have been pumping into my bloodstream lately. You do a number on my endocrine system, baby."
She laughed. "How romantic. Have you smoked for a long time?"
His mouth opened up, and the words fell out. "Want me to quit?" He was making a lovesick ass of himself, but that was just too bad. He was hardwired for the grand romantic gesture.
Her eyes went wide with alarm. "Good Lord," she murmured. "Are you sure you want to?"
He fished the tobacco and the papers out of his coat pocket and held them over a Dumpster on the corner. "Say the word," he said. "I know I should quit. Everybody who smokes knows they should quit. I just never particularly cared before. Give me a good reason."
It was worth it ten times over, just for that fleeting moment that her face lost the haunted look and cute little dents appeared at the corners of her mouth. "OK," she said. "Quit, Connor."
He let go. The bag thudded into the Dumpster. "Quitting will be a piece of cake with you around," he told her. "I might have some nicotine fits, but I know exactly what to do about my oral fixation."
She giggled, and her fingers tightened around his.
"I have to call Seth today, after we take care of our other business," he said. "I want him to come check out your locks."
"Connor, you know that I can't afford to—"
"Even under normal circumstances, that place would be unsafe for you, Erin. And I'm going to have a talk with your landlord about the front door lock. Does he live in the building?"
"Are you kidding?" She looked worried. "Please, don't. I spent the whole month of January with no hot water because I had the bad judgment to complain about the bugs."
He scowled. "You should move out of that dump."
"To where? I can't afford anything better right now, and besides—"
"Move in with me," he said.
Her eyes went huge and scared. His heart sank like a stone.
He'd fucked up, evidently, but now he had to follow through to the grim finish. "It's a nice place," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's paid for. Two spare bedrooms. One can be your office. For your business."
Her mouth made an "oh" shape, but no sound came out.
He plodded grimly on. "I remodeled the kitchen a few years back. There's a yard for your cat. It's a quiet block. And I'm a pretty good cook. Ask Sean about my chili."
Yeah. Plenty of room in my king-sized bed every night. Underneath me, on top of me, all over me. That long hair spread out over my pillows.
They had arrived at the car. Connor unlocked her door. She got in and gazed up, her mouth forming and discarding words. "Uh… Connor? We've only been lovers for two days."
"I know what I like," he said.
She caught her soft lower lip between her teeth. "Maybe you should slow down," she said earnestly. "Before you make any more big pronouncements and sweeping gestures. It's incredibly sweet of you to offer, but it's just… it's… maybe you should think about it."
He gestured at the shapely ankle that still dangled outside the door. She pulled it inside. "I've been thinking about it for ten years," he said. He slammed her door shut by way of punctuation.
He was ashamed of himself by the time he got into the car. She stared into her lap as he started up the engine, her face hidden by the dark, thick fall of hair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I won't pressure you."
"OK. Thanks."
Hell. What technique. He might just as well have proposed marriage on the spot. He'd already invited her to have his baby. What was the perfect way to distract a woman from her personal problems?
Pile some brand new ones on top of them.
Erin was struck mute for the rest of the drive.
Connor pulled into the Jacey's Diner lot. He didn't take her hand as they walked toward the entrance. Her hand felt chilly and abandoned, swinging there on its own.
An astonishingly handsome young man with dark blond hair and a black leather jacket burst out of the diner. Erin took one look at his lean face and wide-set, tilted green eyes, the same glacial lake shade as Connor's, and knew he had to be Sean McCloud.
Sean's jaw sagged. "Holy shit. Look at you." A delighted grin spread over his face as he circled his brother. He poked Connor's chest, palpated his shoulder, slapped his butt. "Only two days, and look at you! You've gained weight, you've got color. You've even shaved." He lifted a lock of Connor's hair. "And your hair doesn't look like it was chewed off by mice anymore." He sniffed the lock of hair. "Jesus. You're even perfumed. With girly stuff. Will wonders never cease."
He turned around and gave Erin an appraising look, which she returned without flinching. She'd been in training for two days with Connor. She knew how to stand up to intense male scrutiny by now.
Sean nodded, as if satisfied. "So you're Erin. The princess in the enchanted tower."
"Sean," Connor growled. "Don't."
"Don't what?" Sean stuck out his hand to her. "You see that shirt he's wearing?" he asked her. "I got him that shirt."
She shook his hand. "You, uh, have excellent taste," she offered.
"Yes, I know," Sean replied. "Lucky for him, or he'd be wearing nothing but thrift-store rejects. I love him, but he's a fashion disaster."
A big, black Ford pickup pulled up in front of them. A man got out who could only be the third McCloud brother; he was just as tall, but bigger and broader, thickly muscled beneath his fleece sweatshirt and jeans. His hair was close-cropped, his face craggy and hard, but he had the same strange, penetrating eyes as his two brothers.
He didn't say a word, just stared at Connor for a long moment. A huge grin cracked his face. "Hey, Con. Lookin' good."
"Hi, Davy," Connor said. "I didn't know you were in on this party."
"Didn't want to miss the fun." Davy turned his penetrating stare onto Erin. "So you're her, then."
"I'm who?" she asked cautiously.
Davy smiled and held out his hand. "You're good for him," he said calmly. "I like this. This works. Stick around."
"She doesn't have any choice," Connor said. "She's stuck with me until Novak's back in custody."
"And that's just how you like it, ain't it?" Sean turned his grin back upon Erin. "You know what? I could tell you stories about this pigheaded son of a bitch that would make your hair stand on end."
"But you won't," Connor broke in. "Because we've got other things to talk about today. Like Cindy."
"There'll be other opportunities." Sean gave him an evil grin. "Now that you have a girlfriend, you're going to be so self-conscious. Baiting you will be ten times the fun."
She giggled, in spite of Connor's scowl. "I can hardly wait. I would love to hear stories about Connor."