Lyric’s head jerked up, and her lips twisted into a snarl. Connor stepped in front of her and faced Kane.

“The situation has already been handled. It was a simple misunderstanding. Lyric is my direct responsibility. Yours is to provide peripheral security.”

Kane’s lip twitched but he didn’t argue.

“I need a schedule of her appearances. Any appointments. Basically if she’s going to set foot off this property in the next ten days, I need to know about it so I can plan accordingly.”

“We’ll have you one before today is over,” Connor said.

“I have work to do,” Lyric said tightly.

She turned away and stalked back up the stairs, and in the distance, Connor heard the door to her studio slam.

He looked back at Kane. “Cut her some slack. I doubt you’re this hard-ass with all your clients. She’s not as bad as she seems. It’s all a front.”

Kane’s eyes glimmered with amusement. “I do whatever it takes to get the job done. If it means me being an ass, then that’s what happens. Your girl doesn’t strike me as the type to take things seriously if you coddle her.”

“She’s not . . .” Hell. He blew out his breath. “Agreed. I don’t think she needs coddling. I’ve been a few rounds with her myself. But she really is taking this whole thing seriously. I can’t make up my mind about her. One minute she seems so . . .”

“Sane?” Kane interjected.

“Yeah, and then the next she seems completely . . .”

“Insane?”

Connor laughed. “Okay, yeah, maybe. But I think it’s a defense mechanism with her. How belligerent she is seems to be in direct proportion to how vulnerable she feels. The greater the disadvantage, the more mouthy she becomes.”

“You seem to have her all figured out,” Kane drawled.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kane blinked and studied Connor for a long moment. “I think you know what it means. Just do me a favor. If you start sleeping with her, give me a heads-up so I can adjust accordingly.”

“I can do my job just fine,” Connor said icily.

Kane offered a shrug. “Look, man, I don’t give a shit what you do. But know this. A man never sees the enemy coming when his dick is occupied, if you know what I mean.”

Connor’s cell rang, and he gave Kane one last glare before he turned away and put the phone to his ear.

“Malone here.”

“What the hell is going on down there?”

Phillip Armstrong’s voice boomed over the line, and Connor sighed. Just what he needed right now.

“Everything is under control.”

“The hell you say. I get a report that Lyric is on the local news because she was arrested. Mind telling me what the hell for? You were supposed to be on her every waking moment. How can you protect her if she’s out pulling stupid stunts?”

Connor stalked out of the living room and onto the back patio. “She wasn’t arrested. She went to the police for safety. She’s not stupid.”

“Where were you when she was doing all this? She shouldn’t have had to go to the police if you were doing your job.”

“If you don’t like the way I’m doing my job, then fire me,” Connor said bluntly. “I never wanted this gig to begin with. Lyric ditched me. I took care of the situation. It won’t happen again. We’ve reached an understanding. She’s promised to cooperate.”

There was a pregnant silence. Then Phillip let out another curse. “No, I don’t damn well want to fire you. Hell, no one else would take the job and definitely not on such short notice. I’m still interviewing firms to take over her full-time security while she’s on the road.”

“If you wouldn’t treat her like a brainless idiot, I think you’d find she’d be a lot more accommodating,” Connor said through his teeth.

“Look, son. You’ve known Lyric for a week. I’ve known her for several years. I know how to handle her. Just do your job. Sit on her until I find a replacement and then you can wash your hands of her.”

The line went dead and Connor shoved his phone back into his pocket. Wash his hands of her. Phillip made her sound like the most undesirable job on the planet. It was little wonder she had such a cynical attitude about life if these were the kind of people she trusted with her future.

It pissed him off and made him see red at the lack of respect she commanded from people she made a shitload of money for. He wanted to tell them all to go fuck themselves.

He wanted to . . . Hell, he didn’t know what he wanted. He just knew he hated the fleeting hurt in Lyric’s eyes—hurt she didn’t think others could see and that she tried like hell to cover up. Behind the brassy, ballsy, obnoxious facade was a vulnerable woman that intrigued him. He was dying to know what made her tick.

And yeah, he was absolutely dying to fuck her too.

It pissed him off that evidently he wore a neon sign when it came to her, because Kane had been quick to pick up on his attraction. In so many ways it didn’t make sense. Lyric was the type of woman he stayed the hell away from. High-maintenance chicks weren’t his thing. And Lyric definitely qualified.

She was like an expensive exotic car. You might test-drive one, but you never signed on the dotted line. And you damn sure couldn’t afford the insurance.

Connor turned when he heard the patio door open. Kane stuck his head out.

“Connor, the chef is at the gate. My guy is checking him out now. If he’s on the up-and-up, he’ll be waved through. Thought you might want to know so you could meet him.”

“Thanks. I’ll go up to get Lyric.”

Connor stepped back into the house and went up the stairs to her studio. He drew up short when he saw the metal Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob.

He sighed. She’d made it clear that when the sign was out, she wasn’t to be disturbed for any reason. He didn’t believe for a minute she was deeply involved in her music.

As much as the belligerent Lyric had gotten under his skin, he preferred that to quiet resignation. He’d be damned if he’d let anyone beat her down. She was too vibrant. Too alive. She was like holding a stick of dynamite. You never knew when she’d go off.

And she didn’t trust anyone—Connor included.

He put his palm flat on the door and rested his forehead on the wood as he heard the faint sounds of her guitar floating through the air. He remembered the words she’d sung so softly just a short time ago.

If you only knew

If you could only see

If you could only come inside

And see the heart of me.

“You’re going to trust me, Lyric Jones,” he murmured. “You’re going to see that I’m not like everyone else in your life.”

He turned and went downstairs to meet Lyric’s chef. The man had cupcakes to make.

Lyric put her guitar down and flexed her neck, then extended her arms above her head to stretch her tired, aching muscles. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was late.

She was hungry, but she had no desire to go down and eat. What she wanted was a hot shower and a comfortable bed, in that precise order.

She let herself out of the studio and turned the sign over so that Connor would know she was no longer working. She went straight for her bathroom and turned on the shower.

A long soak in the gorgeous bathtub would be wonderful, but she was too impatient and edgy to enjoy it. She opted instead for a quick shower, careful to keep her hair from getting wet.

When she was done, she wrapped herself in a towel and shook out her hair from the clip she’d shoved into it to hold it up. She spent another five minutes removing what makeup hadn’t washed off in the shower and applying moisturizer.

Eager to crawl into bed, she walked out of her bathroom only to find Connor propped against the wall in her bedroom.