Abby refused to turn around. So, instead she stood facing the door staring at her toenails which she noticed were in dire need of a pedicure as she tried to calm her pounding heart. Thanks to Jo Jo and his infernal medaling, the man she thought would only be in her dreams was now waiting expectantly in the living room instead of remaining in her fantasies where he belonged.

She curled her hands into fists and let her nails slowly sink into the palm of her hand. She focused on the pain, letting it keep her grounded and away from the rising panic that was closing in around her, wanting to drag her down into its chaotic abyss. It was all fun and games, but now, thanks to Jo Jo...it was personal. Abby could no longer linger under the cover of obscurity. He had yanked it off her, leaving her bare and vulnerable.

What the hell was Jo Jo thinking! Anger washed over her, overcoming her with disappointment. Deep down she knew he didn't mean any harm, but it still hurt to have her trust betrayed. It was not his place to make that kind of decision for her, dammit. Even though, she'd only moments before promised to meet Prince Charming at the door with nothing but a smile and a thong, she thought it was all in jest. Never in her wildest imagination did it occur to Abby he might actually be at the freaking door.

Abby's mind cranked over what to do next while the heat of a blush warmed her face. It was hard to think when man's gift to women and a good portion of men, was behind you and you're standing there in your damn pajamas. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, wishing for divine inspiration or a bolt of lightning to strike.

"Abigail." A warm, heavy hand landed on her bare shoulder.

His thumb rubbing little circles made her shiver and she pulled away. Stalking over to the opposite side of the room, she put the futon between them before she turned to face him.

"How did you find me, Steele," she snapped, wrapping her arms around her chest.

His touch and the use of her name had made her nipples hard and she covered them up. The situation was already embarrassing enough without her body revealing his effect on her. Dreaming of his embrace was one thing, actually having it was a whole other ballgame.

His wide shoulders shrugged. "I wanted to see if you were well." He looked down at her wrapped ankle before slowly tailing back to her face and eventually her forehead which was still bruised and sporting a Spongebob Band-Aid. The darkening of his eyes made her wrestle with the butterflies caused by his heated stare.

"That's a good excuse to why you are here, but I didn't ask you why. I asked how. How did you find me?"

In the long awkward pause that followed, she tried to convince herself it wasn't desire she'd seen in his chestnut gaze. It was only a figment of her imagination or a play of the light.

Adam slowly strolled around the living room, randomly picking up things and taking note before placing them carefully back. He looked out of place amongst the velvet and laced clutter in his dark grey slacks and matching jacket. Completely out of place, but incredibly hot too, Abby thought as she nervously followed his progress. The way the elegant material fell against his body made her bite her lip and wonder if she needed to see if they had a twelve step program for suit addiction.

"I found a keycard for the Kit Cat Club," he said simply, shrugging his shoulders again before turning to face her. "It must have fallen out of your pocket. I put it back in your bag before I brought it up to you." He motioned towards her backpack with a sweep of his hand, his gold watch catching the lamp light.

Ridiculously, she remembered that watch from the other night and the arm attached to it as it had wrapped itself around her middle, pulling her close. Shaking her head to dispel the memory, Abby narrowed her eyes at him. "You just happened to know where Jo Jo lived?" She snorted. When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up her hand to stop him. "And don't try and tell me you contacted the club. I know for a fact Mike would have told you to go pound sand. So...I will ask you one more time. How did you find me?" She stood fuming, knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from his lips.

"Does it really matter, Abigail," he said quietly, which only pissed her off more.

"It does if you're a stalker, Mr. Steele."

He shot her a look which made her wonder if she had pushed him a little too far and she took a few unconscious steps back towards the door.

"Oh for fucks sake! I am not going to hurt you," he snapped angrily, running a hand through his rich, dark hair. "I was curious. Finding out information is second nature to me and it took nothing more than a few well-placed phone calls to achieve what I wanted to know." He rolled his eyes at her disapproving frown. "It's nothing you can't easily obtain over the Internet, Abigail."

"Aren't you the resourceful one," she muttered.

"Yes, I am."

He gave her a lopsided grin which caused a small sigh to escape her lips and she brought her hand up, smothering the reaction with an exaggerated yawn.

"Am I boring you, Abigail?" He chuckled softly.

The seduction the sound caused against Abby's libido was lethal. It had been way too long since she'd had male companionship and he was like a piece of prime rib to her starved sex life. She needed to get him out of the apartment and quickly before she did something utterly stupid...like rip his boxers off with her teeth.

Smiling tightly, she walked over to the door and opened it. "Actually, I am quite tired." She faked another long yawn. "And as you can see," she swept her hand over herself, "I am just Jim Dandy." She kept the smile plastered to her face as she waited playing doorman, but he made no move to leave. Abby frowned. "Thank you for your concern," she added, nodding towards the opened door hoping he would get the hint.

His sensual grin turned into a sly smile as he began to remove his jacket, shrugging out of it and hanging it over the end of the futon. Slowly, he unbuttoned his white shirt sleeves and rolled them up, exposing his well-defined forearms and causing Abby to clear her throat.

Holy crap on a cracker! She could see the strength in his muscled frame as he moved gracefully and lounged on the couch with one arm stretched across the length of it as if he owned the place. There was just something about how that watch, wrapped around his thick, tanned wrist which screamed decadence and masculinity. Hell...his whole commanding demeanor made her pulse speed up and she had to grab hold of the door knob to keep her knees from buckling under her.

"Ah...aren't you leaving?" she stuttered, finding her mouth suddenly dry.

"No, I thought we would talk a little," he said calmly.

Abby recoiled in surprise. Looking out the door, she debated making a run for it.

"I'm fast Abigail, I will catch you." His voice was soft, but the warning was strong as was the look of certainty he sent in her direction. "Is it really such a hardship to sit and have a conversation with me?" he asked in a low, deep voice, cocking an eyebrow.

"No," she mumbled, flushing hotly at being busted.

Abby bit her lip to keep from crying out in frustration. The hardship wasn't talking to him, the problem was keeping her hands to herself. There was something about him that made her pant and she was finding it harder and harder to keep her resolve to stay away from his charm.

Shutting the door, she stomped back over to the futon. He was so big, he took up a good portion of the space. His chest was wide and inviting while his arms coaxed her to sit next to him. Yeah...right. She sighed. Not a good idea.

"I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?" She turned away from the tempting sight and hightailed it into the kitchen, chased by the memory of just how it felt to be in those arms of his.

Filling the kettle with water, she slammed it on the stove, cranking on the knob fiercely. "I'm only here to check on your welfare," she mocked under her breath, rolling her eyes as the gas stove top clicked a few times before whooshing into flame. If he was going to get himself comfortable, why didn't he lose the shirt, peel off those tailored pants and offer himself up as her personal playground for the evening, she thought.

Cussing herself, she adjusted the fire under the kettle. Turning, she grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard, setting them on the counter with a loud clink. A man like that didn't want to have sex with a hot mess like her, not when he could have his pick of any beautiful woman on the planet. Bending, she tried to adjust the mass of chaotic curls on top of her head using the stainless steel toaster as a mirror. Giving it up as a lost cause, she stuck her tongue out at her disfigured reflection and straightened.

"I prefer coffee," he said, so close to her ear she could feel the heat of his breath.

Jerking, she yelped, knocking one of the mugs off the counter. She watched it fall to the hardwood floor and shatter along with her nerves.

Adam cursed. "I'm sorry." He ran a hand across his scalp, pausing to grip a handful of hair at the back. "I didn't mean to startle you." Frowning, he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up off the floor as if she didn't weigh an ounce and settled her gently on the counter, his hands lingering on her hips before he let go.

"Stay put. I don't want you cutting your feet," he ordered as he bent down to start picking up the larger broken pieces. Standing up, he frowned as he looked around the kitchen. "Where is your trash bin?"

Between the scare, the touch of his hands and the fear he might have overheard her, Abby couldn't find her voice and she mutely pointed to the pull out cabinet which housed the garbage.

"Broom?"

Again, she pointed and directed him to the little closet next to the door, her jaw dropping at how sexy it was to watch him efficiently clean up the rest of the broken cup. His toned muscles rippling with each sweep of the broom. The way his slacks melded to his body as he bent down to push the bits into the dustpan had her gripping the edge of the counter as if her life depended on it.

Dumping the last shards in the bin, he walked into the living room to put the broom and dustpan away. Abby would like to think she was above objectifying men, but the way his ass looked in those slacks hanging off his lean hips as he walked, drover her crazy and for a few heartbeats, she contemplated knocking the second cup off the counter so she could watch him sweep it up all over again.

If the view of him walking away was enticing, the way he prowled towards her was downright hypnotic. He was strength, authority and pure sexual energy all bundled up into an intoxicating package which left her breathless and dazed. She wanted to turn away, but she couldn't even blink at the moment from the powerful draw of his gaze.

He halted a half a step away from where she sat white knuckling the counter. The air between them crackled with tension and she opened her mouth to try and draw more air into her lungs. The movement brought his amber regard to her mouth and a stray lock of dark hair curled on his forehead. She itched to reach out and brush it aside as she had in countless fantasies she'd indulged in since meeting him.

Adam's expression darkened and his eyes narrowed as he watched her run her tongue anxiously over her bottom lip. Tightening his jaw, his eyes continued to bore into hers and Abby nervously nibbled on her lips not sure what to say or do, but knowing the anticipation was going to give her heart failure if he didn't say something soon. Briefly his gaze left hers to flick to her mouth and a little smile curled the corner of his lips.

It wasn't a friendly type of smile. It didn't make you think of puppy dogs and daisies. It made you think of sex. And not the fluffy kind either, but nails dragging across the sweaty skin of his back, her tongue deep in his mouth while he plunged hard into her over and over again. Her head thrown back and her hips rocking, meeting his powerful pace until...

"Your kettle is whistling." The sound of his rich voice made her weave on the counter. "Abigail? Did you hear me?"

"What?" Abby shook her head, snapping out of her fantasy and back to reality.

The kettle was screaming bloody murder and she hadn't heard it. Oh, God, she blushed crimson, feeling the heat of it spread across her face like a wildfire. Ducking her head, she wiggled her bottom towards the edge of the counter to jump down. Feeling the dampness between her legs, only mortified her further.

"Stay," he ordered, stepping closer and softly pushing her back. His touch searing into her. "I'll take care of it."

"I can do it," she protested thinly, trying vainly to shove him out of the way.

"And I said stay," he growled quietly.

"I'm not a dog you know. You can't just order me around like I was a border collie," Abby huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. More to cover up her arousal at his tone than in agitation.

He chuckled. "I am well aware of your inability to follow orders." He tapped her on the nose lightly with his index finger before turning to the stove and finally silencing the boiling kettle.

"Well, that makes one of us. I wasn't conscious I was lacking in that department," she snipped. "I am a waitress after all, taking orders is what I do."

"Where do you keep the tea?" he asked, ignoring her.

Abby sighed and pointed to one of the cabinets. He took down two boxes holding them up for her to choose. She pointed to the Chamomile. Putting the other box back, he placed a tea bag in the remaining cup and filled it with hot water.

Bouncing the bag up and down in the water by the string, "You were supposed to stay," he said. His eyes focused on the cup.

"Stay? Stay where?"

Two blazing brown eyes turned to her. "At my place."

Abby gaped at him in shock. "I...what made you think I'd do that?"

He shrugged, turning back to the tea. "It was doctor's orders."

Something about his demeanor changed and the real meaning behind his words caught her off guard. "That's what this is all about? That's why you're here? Because I didn't stay?"

He shook his head. "Not entirely." He continued to bob the teabag in and out, not looking at her.

"Then why are you here, Mr. Steele?"

Abby watched as he froze, his hand hovering in mid dunk. Before she could blink, he was between her legs and up against her body. His eyes roving over her face and dropping to her mouth.

"Because I needed to see you again. Because I needed to know you were safe. Because I wanted to see if the chemistry I felt was still as profound as it was that fucking night," he murmured softly. Reaching up with his hands, he cradled her face and tugged it until his lips were so close she could feel the words coming from them more than hear them. "And because of this..." His lips descended on hers, locking them together.

Abby grabbed onto his shoulders in surprise, but as his soft lips brushed over hers, her body involuntarily responded and she used his broad shoulders to pull him closer. His mouth enveloped hers, exploring them lightly before he nudged them apart, licking at her lips until she moaned and surrendered them to his probing. Their tongues slid and moved slowly against each other as he deepened the kiss, unhurried in his possession.

She had died and gone to heaven. She felt her body heat with every pass of his lips as he devoured her mouth. Her heart thrashed so wildly in her chest, she pressed closer against him in fear it would leap out and fly around the room. He titled his head and whispered her name on a deep groan, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, cupping her head and angling her down so his mouth could taste her with a renewed vigor.

Again and again he kissed her and she feverishly returned each one until she forgot about everything but his touch. His long fingers of one of his hands sensually massaged her neck while the other directed her closer and kept her balancing on the edge of the counter. Abby thrust her hands into his thick hair, pulling him closer so she could press her tongue deeper into his mouth. Her breasts were constrained tight against the hardness of his chest and she could feel his own thundering beat as he broke from her mouth and ghosted his lips down the column of her neck. Her back bowing further into his embrace.

"Adam," Abby whispered, gasping for breath, clinging to him. Her body shivering as he feathered light kisses against her collar bone.

Lifting his head, his brown eyes almost black with passion, locked onto hers. "Say my name again," he demanded. A hint of wonder in his voice.

Smiling, Abby leaned in until their lips were only a soft sigh away. "Adam," she whispered.

He groaned and slanted his mouth hard over hers, plunging his tongue into her mouth. He searched every corner until there was no part he hadn't claimed as his. She was lost to him, completely and utterly at his mercy and she shamelessly wrapped her legs around his hips, surging against him with every push and pull of his lips.

Pulling back and breathing hard, he grabbed the side of her face, his fierce gaze penetrating into hers. "Know this Abigail, you and I are going to happen. If it's the last thing I do," he growled, lowering his head to claim her again.

"If you don't get your hands off her, it could very well be the last thing you do, asshole." A deep, harsh baritone voice threatened.

Abby jerked back, screaming in alarm as she saw the gun pointed to the back of Adam's head.