“No worries. I’ll take care of it.” She began her morning ritual. Fill coffeepot with water. Drain water into percolator. Scoop grounds.
“Sit,” Tristan ordered. He set his muffin aside and pried the coffee tin from her hands—an action no one else had ever done and lived to tell the tale. His fingertips brushed her palm, sending shafts of electricity up her arm. “I shall do this duty.”
She gulped and pulled away, rubbing the still-tingling skin. “Do you know how to make coffee?”
His features lit with wry amusement. “The knowledge I gained on other planets far surpasses that of your Am-erica.”
“But your knowledge stems from almost a century ago,” she pointed out.
“Aye. So, I’m probably a century or two ahead.”
A century? Or two?! “So you know what to do? I just want to be clear, because your life hangs in the balance.”
He canted his head to the side, studying her expression. “You would kill me if I failed in this task?”
“What? No! I just meant—never mind. No, I won’t kill you. Not now, not ever.” Without another word, Julia plopped down on the stool behind the counter. Since she kept messing up their conversations, saying the wrong things, she’d be better served with silence.
Her new position gave her a better view, anyway. Crossing and uncrossing her legs, she watched the corded muscles on Tristan’s abdomen tighten with his every move. She watched his nipples pucker in the cool, early morning air. Then she watched him saunter across the tile barefoot and stop at the faucet, revealing his naked back.
She gasped, horrified. To cover the piercing sound, she forced a cough. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice, allowing her to study his bare back in more detail. Thick, jagged scars laced every inch of flesh. Some of those scars intersected, some stood alone, but all were badges of pain and anguish. She’d noticed the slight marks on his chest, of course, but these… What had he suffered?
A small tattoo perched on the upper left side of his shoulder blade. A black symbol, utterly provocative and endearingly sexy. Another tattoo very similar in appearance decorated the curve of his lower back, dipping past his pants.
When her curiosity became too great, she asked, “What do those symbols mean?”
He glanced at her over the shoulder without the tattoo. “Conquer and destroy.”
How appropriate. “Is that your family motto or something?”
“That is the creed of all Imperian warriors.” Another over-the-shoulder glance. “Do you usually rise this early?”
She had to tear her attention away from him to glance at the wall clock. Six-\ thirty. “Yes. Today is a work day, so I have to get up early.”
“And yet you hardly slept last night.”
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “How do you know I didn’t fall asleep? Did you enter my room, Tristan?” She hadn’t worried about him in that way. A mistake on her part. In today’s society, it was better to always worry.
“Nay,” he said, and she relaxed somewhat. “I heard you through the door. If you were not sighing, you were punching your pillow.” He cast a third glance over his shoulder, his pale, otherworldly eyes filled with wicked knowing. “I could have helped you, little dragon. One orgasm, and you would have fallen right to sleep.”
She nearly choked on her tongue. One orgasm… Oh, sweet goodness. “If you heard me, you didn’t get any rest, either.”
“I am used to going without slumber. In Imperia, if I wasn’t involved in a war, I was tupping my way through villages, debauching the sweetest maidens.”
I might have to try that sometime. The words registered, and she shook her head in surprise. Such a thought… Who am I? Had she always had a bit of a wild streak, or had Tristan roused one? “You were a playboy before you ended up in the box, then?”
“Oh, aye. Perhaps they were merely practice for you,” he rasped.
She gave him a thumbs-down and called, “Boo! No lines, okay? I’d rather be honest with each other.”
He stiffened, but didn’t speak. Once the coffee began to percolate, filling the house with the fresh scent of caffeine, he strode to the table and sat beside her, then consumed his muffin with the gusto of a man just off a year-long fast. When he finished, he requested another. And another. And another, chasing each one with a glass of milk.
He swallowed the final crumb of the fourth. “Would you happen to have another?” he asked, hopeful.
“Sorry. I’m out,” she said. “How did you eat inside the box?”
“Magic sustained me.” With a contented sigh, he settled more comfortably in his chair and rubbed his eight-pack. “All right. I’m ready to listen to your lecture now. You may proceed.”
But I’m not ready. “Yes, of course.” She cleared her throat. “I need you to—” Wait, that didn’t sound right. “My next-door neighbor is—” No, that wasn’t right, either.
“Go ahead. Say it. There’s someone you’d like me to murder, isn’t there, nixa?” He sounded resigned.
“No! Absolutely not.” She leaned over to grip his arm. At the moment of contact, he jolted, as if she’d somehow burned him. As she drew back, he latched onto her wrist, urging her palm over his forearm once again. “There’s to be no killing. I just…I’m trying to ask you…I need…” Her cheeks burned so hot, she expected blisters to form.
Humor flickered in the depths of his eyes, making them appear as clear and light as an ocean at sunrise. “Whatever has put that blush on your cheeks has roused my deepest curiosity.”
“It’s just that dating is…hard.” And so were his muscles. Focus!
“This is beginning to sound serious.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Do you wish to ask me on a date, Julia?”
His teasing tone scraped against her already-raw nerves unchallenged. Sweet as sugar. “Before I begin, let’s have our coffee. Okay?”
“A fine idea,” he said, parroting her overly polite tone.
Besides being too sexy, too perfect and a
