Staking His Claim (Line of Duty #5)(2)

Lucy stared after Sasha thoughtfully as she exited the coffee shop. Her friend knew her too well. Initially, when Sasha canceled on her, there had been a tiny little punch of relief in her chest that she was off the hook. That she wouldn’t have to put herself out there as planned, but could continue her two-year streak of hiding from the unknown. Safe in her self-imposed introversion. She hadn’t always been this way. No, no. Her first four years in college had been spent exploring the Mason daredevil gene she’d inherited. Right up until she’d organized an on-campus bonfire in protest of censorship in their textbooks, landing her in jail overnight. Hello wake-up call. Needless to say, her brother had lost his shit and been forced to re-mortgage his house to bail her out. Not to mention covering the fines she’d incurred.

Since her night in the big house, she’d spent her days and nights busting her ass to make her family proud, instead of inspiring ceaseless rounds of head-shaking every time her name came up. Making sure Brent knew she didn’t take for granted the tuition he worked two jobs to provide. In the very near future, she would have a job that would finally ease the pressure from his shoulders. She could finally pitch in to support her parents and her other older brother’s family while he fought overseas. Her family would take pride in her, instead of taking cover every time she entered the room.

That staunch dedication to success hadn’t left room for much more, and she’d allowed her social life to dwindle until Sasha’s recaps of Saturday nights were her main source of entertainment. As soon as she had a steady income and a place to call her own, she’d been planning to remedy that oversight. Then again, maybe Sasha had a valid point. What better place to kick off her new lecture-and homework-free life than a week in New York City?

The bell tinkled over the coffee shop door, drawing Lucy’s attention. Had Sasha changed her mind? Or maybe she’d forgotten someth—

Lucy’s thoughts drained, as if her brain had turned into a colander. Every muscle in her body coiled tightly as a man stepped right out of every woman’s fantasy and somehow materialized in the coffee shop. Before anything else registered, she noticed the way he walked. He moved like he was walking toward a lover. A lover he planned on thoroughly roughing up before making her scream obscenities into a pillow. The sensual, detached movement of his hips was a complete contradiction to his eyes and jaw, however. They were set firmly, making him look ruthless. Unmovable.

Dark hair, dark expression, dark clothing. He was just…several shades of dark. Except for his eyes, she amended as he coolly scanned the shop. His eyes were light gray. In the midst of all that darkness, they stood out like silvery marcasite.

She couldn’t stop her gaze from tracking downward, over broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a heavy leather belt that rode low on his waist. As if a good stretch would reveal his happy trail and that cut vee leading into his jeans. Speaking of jeans, good Lord, the man’s ass was a bona fide work of art. As he strode toward the nearby counter to place his order, his work boots not making a single sound, those tight buns set off a choir of rejoicing angels in her head.

Then he opened his mouth to address the barista and the angels’ mouths snapped shut.

“Can you tell me where 39 Juniper Street is located?”

Huh? Lucy’s spine went rigid. That was her address. Perhaps he was looking for someone else in her building? She and Sasha shared a two-bedroom in an off-campus dwelling, in which there were at least twenty other apartments. That had to be it. This work of male perfection could not be the boring, stuffy ex-military sniper her brother had sent to squire her down to the city. Brent’s description could not have painted a different picture. No, this guy had to be looking for someone else.

The barista behind the counter looked like she’d just gone for a swim in a lake full of stupid. “What?” She cleared her throat and smiled. “I mean…what?”

Buns of Glory sighed. “Thirty-nine Juniper. My GPS says it’s nearby, so I thought I’d walk the rest of the way. Can you point me in the right direction?”

Another barista joined her. “What?”

Now Lucy sighed on his behalf. Communication must be difficult when your ass whittled the opposite sex’s vocabulary down to one word.

“Never mind, I think I can track it down.” He gave a faint smile and Lucy swore she could hear panties hit the floor. “I’ll take a medium coffee to go. Black.”

Not the sugar-and-cream type. No surprises there.

Barista Number One appeared to finally regain her senses. “Are you visiting someone at the college? I haven’t seen you here before.”

He handed her a crisp bill. “No, I live in Manhattan. I’m just here to pick up a girl.”

Oh shit. He is Matt Donovan. That was Lucy’s first thought. Her second? If her brother had condoned her spending hours in a confined space with this gorgeous man, he had quite a lot to learn about her.

“So…are you picking up just any ol’ girl or a specific one?”

Oh, for the love of double Spanx.

“Specific.”

“Lucky girl.” Barista Number Two with the gem! “She must be pretty special to drive all this way.”

Matt took the paper coffee cup she offered. “Actually, from what I hear, she’s kind of a nuisance.”

Inside Lucy’s head, the studio audience broke into a barrage of oh hell no’s. She sat up so straight in her booth, she would have feared spinal damage if she could manage to think past her annoyance. A nuisance? On top of her double-ditching that day, the word was like water being poured over hot sauna rocks. They caused her anger to sizzle and snap dangerously. Somewhere underneath all that, a stab of hurt existed, but she didn’t want to acknowledge that just yet.