“We love you too!” the women chorused.

The men rolled their eyes and Connor continued on out of the living room. Sam appeared at the door to open it for Connor. Then he followed Connor to Lyric’s BMW and opened the back door so Connor could slide her in.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Lyric,” Sam said.

She smiled and blew the older man a kiss. “You rock, Sam. I’m going to steal you away from Serena.”

He smiled and then retreated, closing the door behind him.

“If you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call,” Sam said to Connor.

Connor hesitated, wondering just what this man’s background was. “Thanks. I appreciate that, and I’m sure she does as well.”

Sam turned to walk back to the house and Connor slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced back at Lyric in the rearview mirror to see that she was already out like a light, sprawled across the backseat.

He laughed and shook his head as he cranked the engine and drove away.

Lyric wouldn’t meet her security team under the best of circumstances. She was still out cold in the backseat when Connor drove up to the guard station of the house that would be Lyric’s temporary home.

Two members of the security team manned the gate and waved Connor through. He drove up the drive and into the garage. As soon as he stepped out, Kane Murphy, who had command of the team, met him in the garage.

“Where is the subject?” Kane asked.

Connor didn’t answer him and opened the door to the backseat. He reached in and carefully pulled Lyric into his arms. She was as limp as a rag doll but when he hoisted her against his chest, she turned and cuddled into him.

Kane raised one brow. “What the hell happened?”

“She and the girls got drunk,” Connor said dryly.

“Must have been one hell of a party.”

Connor pushed by him and into the house. “Have her things been delivered?”

Kane shut the door. “Yeah. Master suite is arranged. Yours is the adjoining room. My men are stationed around the perimeter and we’ll be rotating watches in twelve-hour shifts.”

Connor nodded and carried Lyric up the stairs to her bedroom. It was a far cry from the tiny hotel room where she’d holed up. The entire house was a study in luxury without being over-the-top. Whoever had built it had ultimate comfort in mind.

He set her down on the king-sized bed, hesitated and then moved into the master bathroom. A huge overflow bathtub was the focal point and stood in the middle of the room on a raised platform. There was a dual-head shower to the far right and a separate compartment for the toilet.

A bath might sober her up, but she might drown in it too. Maybe a shower was a better option.

He walked back into the bedroom and shook his head in amusement again. “Lyric. Lyric,” he said louder. “Come on, honey, wake up. Time for you to sober up.”

She made a sound of irritation and turned on her side away from him. He crawled onto the bed, following her over. He touched her shoulder and pulled her until she was on her back again.

“If you don’t get up and do it yourself, I’m going to strip you and put you in the shower myself.”

Her eyes popped open at that.

He chuckled. “Thought that might get you moving.”

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled. “Get off me.”

“I’m not on you. If I’m ever on you, you’ll know it.”

Her eyes widened and he heard the swift intake of her breath. He couldn’t tell if it was panic or curiosity that invaded her gaze. If she wasn’t shit-faced, he’d test the theory and kiss her. But she was, and he was a flaming hypocrite.

He bitched about her fuck-buddy bodyguards and how if they were fucking her, they weren’t protecting her, and now he was thinking of little other than what it would be like to be buried balls deep in her sweet heat.

Christ. He hadn’t been on this job for a week yet and he’d already lost focus.

He shoved himself off the bed and strode for the door. “I’ll give you an hour before I’m back. I need to take you down and introduce you to your security team. For the next two weeks, you’ll eat, breathe and sleep these guys. You go nowhere without them—or me.”

Lyric sat up and dragged her hair behind her ear. “Okay. I get it. Don’t get all pissy with me.”

Connor nodded and then stalked out the door, needing to put as much distance between them as he could. His hands shook. Never in his life had he been so helpless in his attraction to a woman. He could control a response. He’d never lost his cool or his control, but Lyric threatened both.

The next two weeks were going to be a test of his will that he didn’t think he had a snowball’s chance in hell of passing.

Lyric rubbed furiously at her eyes to try to dust the cobwebs from her muddled brain. She shoved up from the bed and waited to gain her bearings before trudging toward the bathroom.

She turned on the shower and went over to check her appearance in the mirror. She grinned in delight when she saw the blue shimmer at the ends of her hair. It looked great. Julie had done a fantastic job. Lyric wished she hadn’t been quite so drunk so she remembered Connor’s reaction to it.

She turned, looking for her toiletries, and to her surprise saw her bags neatly stacked on the vanity. She rummaged through one of the boxes and dug out a scrunchie to put her hair up in.

Steam poured from the shower as she stripped out of her clothes. She couldn’t wait.

Hot water sluiced over her skin and she moaned in sheer delight. Some of the muck rinsed and her mind cleared as she tilted her head up and let the water run down her body.

For several long minutes, she simply stood there, vowing all the time that she’d never drink again.

About the time she was on the verge of boiling herself, she turned off the water and stepped out to dry off.

She wandered back into her room wrapped in a towel and went through the clothes that hung in her closet. If she had to meet a bunch of men charged with babysitting her, she wanted to look killer.

Connor said an hour, but she took an hour and a half. When she walked out of her bathroom, makeup and hair perfectly arranged, Connor was sitting on the edge of her bed. He made a show of looking at his watch as she sauntered over.

“Sober?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Did you have fun with the girls?”

She smiled. “Yeah, I did. I like them. I like them a lot. I don’t have many women friends. Okay, try no women friends. Or friends period. It’s kind of nice to think they might fill the bill even if they’re just pretending.”

Connor frowned. “They wouldn’t pretend. They’re good girls. None better anywhere. They’re genuine. And trust me, Julie doesn’t pretend to like anyone.”

A chuckle escaped Lyric. “Yeah, I got that impression. She’s cool, though. I like her. It’s hard to find honest, straightforward people in my line of work. Everyone lies. No one tells the truth.”

“Your line of work sucks.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I suppose to someone like you it would. I don’t expect honesty. I assume everyone is out to fuck me. At least that way I’m not disappointed and I can do my job without being an emotional wreck every time I figure out someone isn’t who I think they are.”

“That’s no way to live. Damn it, Lyric. Don’t you think you deserve a better life than that?”

Startled by the vehemence in his voice, she cocked her head to the side. “It’s not a bad life, Connor. Singing’s what I always wanted to do. Putting up with disingenuous people is just a part of it all. A sacrifice for getting to do what I love.”

He reached out and touched her cheek, his palm sliding gently over her skin. “You deserve better.”

She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his hand. For once the idea of being . . . alone . . . with him didn’t bother her. She liked this. Something so simple as his touch. It was nonthreatening. He wasn’t like the others and she took great comfort in that.