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your excuse for being here had better be impressive.
I m always impressive.
Hell, yes, he was. Of all the men she d come across, Ivar Fournier was just about the most
impressive of the lot.
Goddamn it.
With his head tilted back and face throbbing from where the thief had landed a decent kick, Ivar took
in the security men at the lobby of Scout s building. They appeared concerned and addressed her by
her nickname rather than the expected and more deferential Ms. Upton. In turn, she greeted them both
by name Darius and Zed and gave them a solid thumbs-up that settled them down.
That was Scout s special gift, he had come to realize. She was an impossibly organized and
driven woman, and she had an answer for everything. She brimmed with a confidence no human being
should have, unless they had an army at her back and a squadron of air support above. Or, like his
grandmother, a purebred family tree that declared one s inherent superiority to everyone else on
earth.
Scout Upton didn t have an army, and she wasn t a purebred anything. Her accent was
hardnosed, blue-collar Chicago. She swore like a sailor, something he liked because it was real, and
whatever wealth she possessed she d earned from her work at House Of Payne.
Or perhaps another way entirely, he thought as she passed a key fob over an elevator scanner.
Then he grimaced. The story he d been told of Scout sleeping her way to the top was getting harder
and harder to believe. Mercenary tendencies just didn t fit the woman he had come to know. Not that
he knew her well, since she was unusually cagey around him. But when he looked into her eyes
really looked he couldn t see anything but forthright, straight-up Scout.
Though that might not mean anything. His eyes were good at seeing things no one wanted him
to see, but even he could be fooled. The predicament he was in now was proof enough of that.
So, um& you re staring.
Her flatly unvarnished comment made him grin beneath the hand that held the tissue to his
nose. No games. That seemed to be the epitome of Scout. Am I?
You know you are.
I suppose I do. He took his time to drink her in as he leaned back against the smoky-
mirrored wall. I was just thinking what amazing security your building has. If I m not mistaken, this
is your own private elevator?
Oh, that. Yeah. She scrunched her tip-tilted nose that had often reminded him of a little
kid s. That scrunched-up expression practically shouted out her embarrassment. This building has
four penthouse suites that have an express elevator opening directly into their respective apartments,
and I, uh& I happen to live in one of them.
How convenient. And, from the sound of it, expensive. House Of Payne must pay you very
well, indeed.
Can t complain.
When she didn t offer further explanation in fact seemed to be quite comfortable to let the
silence stretch on with nothing but the hum of the elevator to fill it he studied her openly. In the short
time he d known her, Scout had had a wide purple streak in her dark hair, then later a shocking
crimson. Now it was a uniform sable brown but still pulled back into a smooth French twist, a look
that had been all the rage during the Second World War. Rockabilly was Scout s style, a niche in
fashion he d never paid attention to, but now he wasn t sure why. With her scarlet Kewpie doll lips
and thundercloud-gray eyes enhanced with black winged eyeliner, her retro flair made her seem like a
swan among pigeons. Even if she hadn t already been put on his radar, he still would have noticed
her.
I was wondering if I shouldn t call the police to report what happened, Scout said as the
elevator doors whispered open to a world of brilliant white and abundant sunshine. At the very least
I d feel bad if this jerk struck again and really hurt someone.
Does a bloodied nose not constitute being hurt? As he spoke, he looked around the massive,
open-air penthouse, with white-washed walls, floor to ceiling windows that had panoramic views of
both the city and Lake Michigan. The equally white contemporary furniture in the sunken living room
was broken up with vivid pillows in jewel tones and covered in flowery embroidery. The dining
room, complete with a long black lacquer table, had obviously been turned into an office that should
have looked messy, but didn t. Despite three monitors, two separate but neat piles of paper, a printer,
a jar of green M&M s and a wireless keyboard cluttering up the space, it was clear there was order
to everything there.
Just as it was clear that Scout didn t do traditional entertaining where a dining table would
ever be used for actual dining.
You serious? You call a dinky little nosebleed damage? Guiding him to the breakfast bar
and pushing him onto a stool shaped like a calla lily, she pulled at the hand that held the tissue to
study his face. Look at that. Not even broken. If your nose had been broken you might have gotten
some sympathy. But since I ve had nosebleeds from getting smacked in the snotbox a time or two in
my life, all you get is an icepack and ibuprofen. Stay.
Snotbox? And what was this stay command, as if he were a flea-bitten cur? Then the rest of
her statement sank in and his building irritation vanished. What do you mean, you have been
smacked? As in struck? Hard enough to bleed? When she didn t answer, instead offering him an eye-
rolling shrug, as if he were an idiot for stating the obvious, his brows came together. Who did this to
you?
I dunno. She pulled a bag of frozen peas from a stainless steel freezer and broke up the
contents on the counter. Can t remember the names, really. Some foster homes are worse than others,
know what I mean?
You were in foster care? He hadn t known that.
I didn t start out in a fancy-shmancy palace in the sky, pal. Life just took some freaky turns
and before I knew it, I landed here. Take this. She d wrapped a kitchen towel around the bag of peas
and pushed it into his hand, then gave him a clean tissue. Lean forward on the counter and put the
cold compress on the bridge of your nose, and press it on either side so it s all pinched together.
Keep it in place for about fifteen minutes, or until I m done reporting this to the police. If you re still
bleeding half an hour from now, I m taking you to the ER.
There it was again, that unruffled confidence that got under his skin and bugged him until he
couldn t sit still. We shall see.
You ll do it, and you ll do it without bitching, because you re a super-smart guy. And what
I m saying is the super-smart thing to do.
As she began to turn away, his hand snaked out and snagged her wrist. They both stared in
surprise at the fingers shackling her. Ivar had no memory of wanting to keep her there, but now that
he d done it he might as well get a few things straight. You should know something about me.
She looked at him dubiously. What do I need to know about you that I don t already know?
Now there was an intriguing statement. I don t like bossy women.
What about bossy men? You okay with them? Because if so, pretend I have a penis and do
what I tell you.
Merde, the things that came out of this woman s mouth& Of all the things you have told me
to do in the past few minutes, picturing you with a penis is the most impossible. Picturing you as you
are, however& Against his will, his gaze slid down her body, from her peasant-like blouse that
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