Deciding to make it short and to the point, she simply said, “No.”

Then she held up a hand. “If you’re going to start in again on how sad and pathetic that is, save it. I’m not in the mood to be picked apart and analyzed. I already have a bad enough headache.”

Connor frowned. “Why didn’t you say so?”

He went over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of pills and returned a few moments later with two in his hand. After handing them to her, he went to the fridge and returned with a bottle of water.

“Take them,” he said softly. “There’s no reason for you to suffer.”

She threw the pills to the back of her throat and then chased them down with the water. Connor returned to the stove to watch over the mac and cheese, and Lyric sat there wondering how the hell she was going to get through the next two weeks with her sanity intact.

“Can we have company here?” she asked suddenly.

He glanced sideways at her. “What kind of company?”

“I thought maybe Faith, Serena, Julie and Angelina could come for lunch or dinner, or just to visit.”

She needed the company. She would go nuts in this big house alone or, worse, just her and Connor. She alternated between wanting to jump his bones and being freaked-out that he was close to her. It was exhausting being such a basket case.

Maybe Phillip was right. Maybe she was on the verge of a breakdown. Maybe when all this crap with the stalker was resolved, she’d take a long vacation somewhere.

Connor frowned. “I don’t know, Lyric. I hesitate to involve them any more than we have to. Their husbands won’t be thrilled with them going where there’s potential danger.”

Lyric sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Some freak is after me and I’m a toxic influence. They’re nice girls and I’d hate for me to rub off on them.”

Connor stalked over and planted his hands on the bar in front of her. He looked . . . pissed.

“Do you think they’re better than you? Do you think I think they’re better than you?”

She stared up at him for a long moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Look, you thought it not so long ago. You weren’t so gung ho to expose me to your friends.”

“I was wrong,” Connor said quietly.

That shut her up.

“They loved you. You were great with them. I was an asshole. We’ve covered that. Those girls mean a lot to me. Yeah, in the beginning I was worried that there would be friction. I don’t want them over here, but that has nothing to do with you. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Lyric smiled. “You know what, Connor Malone?”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?”

She sat back with a satisfied grin and crossed her arms over her chest. “You like me. You don’t want to. You didn’t want to. But you like me.”

He leaned over, snaked his hand behind her nape and all but hauled her over the table as his lips melted over hers. Hot and so breathless she grew light-headed.

Man, but he could kiss.

She braced her palms on the countertop and leaned farther, hungry—so hungry—for him.

His tongue traced the line of her mouth and then delved inward. She sucked at the tip, wanting more. She licked at him, meeting his tongue in a flirty duel that had him sucking back.

She nipped at his lip, first his bottom and then the top. Oh, but she wanted to devour him.

A hissing sound from the stove had him pulling away and he glanced to where the water boiled over the rim of the pot. But before he went to rescue the macaroni, he stroked his thumb over her bottom lip and his eyes glittered with intense need.

“I think you’re a very observant woman,” he murmured.

Connor stood in the doorway of the room Lyric had commandeered as her studio. Her guitar and sound equipment had been delivered and set up and she’d been sequestered in solitude all morning long.

She had her guitar cradled against her chest and she strummed a series of chords as her haunting voice echoed through the room and slid over his skin like silk.

It was a far cry from the noisy, raucous show she’d put on when he’d seen her in concert. He’d be hard-pressed to even believe they were the same woman if he didn’t know for sure they were.

She slapped her hand over the strings, silencing the guitar, and made a sound of frustration. Then she began again and rearranged some of the words.

If you only knew

If you could only see

If you could only come inside

And see the heart of me

She paused for a moment and then looked up and saw him standing in the door. Her hand fell away and she looked discomfited by his presence.

“It’s beautiful. Is it a new song you’re working on?”

She set aside her guitar and rubbed her hands down her pants. “Yeah. Something a little different. I’m going for a new sound for the next album. I haven’t run the songs by my label yet, so I’m not sure they’ll go for it.”

Connor took a seat in the chair across from Lyric. “And if they don’t?”

She shrugged. “I can either play by their rules and record the music they want or I can go out on my own, find another label or start my own.”

“Phillip seems pretty damn committed to keeping you. I don’t see him telling you no. I’m not sure he knows the meaning of that word when it comes to you.”

She shot him a baleful look.

Connor grinned. “Oh, come on. Admit it. No one tells you no very often. I doubt you’d listen to them if they did.”

“Depends on whether or not they’re saying what I want to hear,” she said cheekily.

He chuckled. She was pretty darn cute when she was being sassy. And not that he’d ever admit it in a million years, but he liked the blue on her. It just . . . fit.

“Connor, you need to see this,” Kane said from the door.

Connor glanced up. Kane’s expression said it wasn’t good. He got to his feet and started to tell Lyric to stay put, but Kane pressed his lips together and then said, “Bring her. She’ll need to see this too.”

Lyric shot Connor a worried look and rose to stand beside him.

Not caring how it looked, Connor held out his hand to her. She slid her palm over his and he curled his fingers tight around hers. Then he tugged her toward the door and after Kane.

They traveled down the stairs and to the living room where one of the other men had the television programming paused. Kane nodded at him and then stood back, arms crossed over his chest.

It was the local newscast, but as soon as Lyric’s face appeared, Connor flinched.

“Pop singer Lyric Jones is in town early for her rodeo appearance, and by all accounts, the star is never far out of trouble.”

The reporter segued into footage from the police station and then of Lyric leaving the station with Connor. To make matters worse, two of the police officers who’d been involved in Lyric’s detainment were interviewed. While no actual details were given, the implication was certainly clear that she’d been involved in yet another undesirable situation.

Beside him, Lyric stiffened and she stared stonily at the TV.

At the end, the reporter wrapped up by saying that her rodeo appearance was sold out.

Kane turned the television set off and turned to face Connor and Lyric. “This complicates matters.”

There was little he could say. Kane was right, but he had no desire to rip into Lyric. He was as much at fault for the incident as she was.

“It changes nothing,” Connor said flatly. “Our job is still the same. We protect Lyric, keep her out of compromising situations and make damn sure no one gets to her.”

Kane stared at Lyric, his eyes glittering. “I need your assurance this won’t happen again.”