“She gives him beer to drink,” Mack muttered under his breath. “How old is your Joe Spagnola?”
Jaimie threw her hands in the air. “Look, he’s thirty-two or so, I don’t know. What difference does that make?”
“You got this guy up here drinking beer in your bedroom and you don’t know what difference it makes?” Mack said, taking a step closer to the bed. His hands were at his sides, fingers opening and closing ominously. “Is he single?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
Kane hitched himself closer in the chair. “You bring that guy up here alone with you?”
Jaimie made a T out of her hands. “Whoa, there, guys. Stop right there. Time out.
I’m not a teenager anymore and you are not my guardians.” She glared up at Mack.
“I’m not yours. You got that? I’m not yours. I know what you’re thinking and you can just forget it. You aren’t going to do one single thing to Joe. Not one. In fact, you will be polite to him.”
Kane and Mack exchanged a long, wordless look. Mack turned away and stalked to the bathroom, every line in his body conveying pure outrage.
Jaimie threw her pillow after him. The pillow hit the bathroom door just as he closed it. “Don’t egg him on, Kane,” she ordered. “You know how impossible he is.”
Mack called out to her from behind the bathroom door, his tone somewhere between a threat and suppressed rage. “Somehow I don’t think your Joe is going to get along too well with us. Drinking beer in your bedroom. What will you think of next?”
“He was not drinking beer in my bedroom,” Jaimie denied hotly. “Where do you come up with this stuff? And it wouldn’t be any of your business if he did,” she added furiously.
The bathroom door flew open so hard it slammed against the wall. Mack swept up the pillow, hardly breaking stride. He was wearing dove gray sweat bottoms, obviously a concession to her modesty, and nothing else. His body rippled with muscle, with pure strength, as he moved toward her with all the stalking grace of a predator.
“It’s my business, honey, anytime anyone is in your bedroom. Scoot over.” He tossed the pillow on the bed behind her.
“I’m not going to scoot over,” Jaimie argued. “Find your own bed.”
Mack sank down on the edge of the mattress, suppressing a grin as Jaimie automatically retreated. “It’s late, Kane. You aren’t going to sit up all night eating, are you?”
“I was thinking about watching television. Do you realize how long it’s been since we watched TV?” Kane pulled off his shoes. “You lack closets, Jaimie girl. We’ll have to do something about that.”
“It’s not finished yet,” Jaimie pointed out. “But it will be something when I’m all through. This floor will be my home, everything fairly open still, but with more cupboards and closets. The bathroom’s great. We finished it last week. Admit it, Mack—the bathroom’s a work of art with all that tile. It’s a masterpiece.”
Mack ruffled her hair again, deliberately easing his body farther onto the bed and stretching out his legs. “So, all right, that’s true. The bathroom is a work of art. Even you, Kane, will appreciate it.”
“Joe did it,” she said smugly.
Mack swore under his breath and made a move toward her. She scrambled backward on the bed until her back was against the wall.
“What is all this, Jaimie?” Kane wasn’t going to be polite and wait until she confided in them.
Jaimie drew up her knees, hugged them to her, rocking a little back and forth, her smile enough to blind a man. “The second floor is my lab, where I’ll do all my planning and experimenting. The first floor will be an office, bathroom, and room for my models.”
“Models?” Kane echoed.
“Of buildings. I own a security company. I’ve left Professor Chilton and branched out on my own. I started consulting work with him and now I’m swamped. I prove existing systems can be breached and design systems specifically for corporations. I have some government contracts, as I still do analytical work and retain my security clearance. That’s where all my training comes in. I get to break into these places. It’s very lucrative, not to mention fun.”
“Does Spagnola do this work with you?” Mack’s voice was very low.
“He’s a builder, not an electronics expert,” Jaimie answered. Out of long habit, she rubbed at his frowning mouth with her fingertip. “He’s nice, Mack.”
The trouble was, the feel of him was so achingly familiar. Mack’s lips were velvet soft. He opened his mouth, his strong white teeth nipping her fingertip, sending unexpected liquid heat curling through her body. She snatched her hand away as if he had burned her, rubbing it on her thigh as if erasing his touch.
“It’s dangerous work, honey. Security guards don’t have all that much training. Or worse, if it’s a government enterprise, you might run across an itchy trigger finger somewhere.”
“Oh, please, Mack, let’s not start discussing dangerous jobs.” Jaimie swept her tousled hair from her forehead. The moment she released the silky strands, they settled right back in a soft, thick halo.
“You knew that was coming.” Kane laughed, his head back, uninhibited, the way he always laughed. But his eyes weren’t laughing, Jaimie noted. “And you deserved it.”
“Get your gear out of the middle of the hallway,” Mack said.
“He always resorts to dishing out orders when you get the best of him,” Kane reminded Jaimie.
“Speaking of dishes, clean your mess up,” Jaimie said primly.
“No one was speaking of dishes,” Kane denied. “I said dishing, dishing, you know, like . . .” He trailed off with an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, all right, then, but this is under protest. You used to do our dishes.”
“I was twelve and you blackmailed me,” Jaimie said, scowling darkly at him. “If I didn’t, you weren’t going to let me go to any of the football games.” She tilted her chin. “Now I call the shots.”
“Says who?” Mack flipped her over so she landed on her stomach. Instantly his leg was across her thighs, his upper body pinning her down. He leaned wickedly close, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. “I just let you think you call the shots, honey. I draw the line at this Spagnola character.”
“Mack, let me up.” Jaimie tried not to laugh. She wasn’t going to encourage him.