MUSCLES COILED TIGHT, nose twitching for even a hint of who to expect, Brook stared toward the door as the handle lowered, and the door swung inward.
She frowned at the head dusted in dark hair that had been cropped close to the skull, the furrows deepening when the Tom lifted his face to reveal the almost bashful smile below eyes the shade of the Mediterranean.
Brad. Her lips formed the word, but her mind refused to orate it as she tensed, ready to pounce. He bounced back a little into defensive stance, close enough to the door to vanish before she could even contemplate reaching him.
He held his palms out. “You should rethink your actions, Brook. I’ve been generous, so far, letting you loose in here.”
Her eyes narrowed as a prickle itched at her nape, and for a moment she considered
