Five

      Rex’s life was spinning out of control—much like it had when he’d signed his first record deal, and others, his manager, his agent and the record company execs, had seized the wheel and started steering his life. He’d fought a long, hard battle to regain control, and he didn’t like being knocked off track now.

      Last night he’d been shanghaied by Kelly and Juliana. Today, Irma, as grandmotherly a woman as he’d ever met, had shooed him out of the way the moment he and the girls had arrived. She’d whisked Becky and Liza into the kitchen to help her unpack the groceries. Juliana had disappeared upstairs to dress for work, leaving him to prowl around her living room and wonder what in the hell he’d gotten into. Not that he’d had a choice. He wouldn’t let Kelly down again.

      Who was the real Juliana? The flirty siren who’d bought him at the auction, the innocent seductress who’d ridden his horse, the bold and sexy biker chick or the cautious woman who planned every detail and triple-checked everything? There were too many contradictions to count—contradictions that kept him off balance. He couldn’t plan a defense if he didn’t know his opponent.

      Her living and dining rooms looked like something out of a magazine. Not fussy or cluttered, but decorated and comfortable. A soft toast-colored fabric covered the long sofa and matching chairs. The oversize furniture was the kind he could sink into and take a nap—which he sorely needed after tossing and turning on his shorter couch last night. A man could prop his boots on her wood-and-wrought-iron tables without worrying about scuffing the surface. The best part was that, other than a few colorful ceramic pieces on high shelves, Juliana didn’t have valuable knickknacks all over the place that the girls could break.

      A noise made him turn. He looked up and saw legs—amazing, long, sexy legs—coming down the stairs. And then the rest of Juliana came into view. In her gray body-skimming suit, twisted-up hair and low-heeled shoes, she bore little resemblance to any of the versions of Juliana he’d encountered thus far. This woman looked like a bank employee. Cool. Collected. In charge. The tap of her heels on the hardwood floor as she crossed to a cabinet drew his attention back to her killer legs.

      Damned if he didn’t find her sexy in a librarian kind of way. Not good. Not good at all.

      She opened a drawer, withdrew something and then turned to face him. “Here’s a key to my house.”

      Whoa. He backed up a step. Other than Kelly, he’d never given a woman keys to his place or even his truck. “Look, Juliana, I gave you my spare keys this morning because you and the girls need access to my apartment, but—”

      “Yes, and it was clearly very painful for you,” she said with a dose of sarcasm.

      He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t need a key to your house.”

      “You will if you arrive before Irma in the mornings.”

      “I won’t. I’ll make sure of it. But if I do, you can let me in.”

      She shook her head and the tiny diamonds in her earlobes sparkled, drawing his attention to her delicate ears and the slender column of her neck above the collarless suit.

      “That isn’t practical. You live closer to the bank, so it makes more sense for me to go straight to work from Renegade. The earlier I can get to work, the sooner I can leave to be with the girls. Irma’s thrilled to have them, but she’s seventy, and she’s worried that her stamina may not last a full day.”

      The skin between his shoulder blades prickled. No way out. Going into a woman’s house without her…He suppressed a shudder. Swapping keys was way too intimate and smelled like a commitment. Commitments led to disappointments, and he’d already handed out more than his share of those. He wanted to unload Juliana and the unwelcome attraction for her, not add another loop to the rope temporarily binding them together.

      Juliana reached out, grabbed his hand and pressed the key into his palm. She closed his fingers around the cool metal and squeezed. Her hands, wrapped securely around his, ignited desires he could not—would not—satisfy.

      “Rex, it’s a key ring not an engagement ring. There are no strings or expectations attached. Quit being such a guy and take it.” She made being male sound like an insult. “I have to go. I’m running late.”

      But several seconds ticked past before her fingers loosened and her hands fell away. From the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck, he guessed he wasn’t the only one feeling the heat generated by their exchange.

      He cleared his throat. “I’ll drop Becky and Liza off about 9:30 or 10:00 each morning.”

      She nodded. “I should be back by 6:00 at the latest. The girls and I will find you so you can tell them good night before I take them upstairs. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Irma makes great coffee.”

      This was so much like playing house, it gave him the willies. Knowing his past and his weakness, thinking about building a domestic relationship with someone was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He backed up. “Right. See ya tonight.”

      And then he bolted for the kitchen like a damned coward. Running from what he couldn’t have.