Xander's Chance

Jessi was breathless when she reappeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes went to him, and she paused. In her hands was a huge bouquet of miniature sunflowers.

"You're not supposed to leave during work hours," he told her. "And I hate flowers."

"It's not a rule," she replied. "They're not for you anyway. They're for your house." She rolled her eyes and set them down on the table beside the couch. "You've managed to strip all the life out of this place. You need more coffee?"

"Yes."

He stared at the flowers, a sign of disorder in his otherwise sterile condo. She seemed happy with herself. When she left for the day, he'd throw them out. He went warily back to his porch.

"Bring another mug," he called.

She made a sound of disgust. "You invite that big-boobed blonde up?"

He said nothing. Ingrid had the same reaction every morning. At least something about Jessi was normal. He tensed as she tripped his senses again. She refilled the coffee pot and set another mug on the table.

"Have a seat," he directed her.

"No, thanks."

"Sit your ass down, Jessi."

She hesitated then sat across from him. He poured her coffee. They stared at each other. Her warm beauty and large eyes were at odds with an agenda that couldn't be good. There were dark circles under her eyes today, as if she hadn't slept. Dressed simply in a casual, wrap dress and ballet flats, she nonetheless had a body he found beyond appealing.

"Husband do that?" he asked, glancing at the bruises on her arm.

"No." She smiled. "You wanna guess again?"

The playful challenge in her gaze stirred his competitive edge, the one that didn't lose and hated being out of control.

"You're stuck with a deadbeat boyfriend who doesn't carry his own weight and beats you because he's some sort of control freak," he guessed.

"Not even close." She laughed. "I get to try now. But I get one question, because you got one. If you had friends, would they be men or women?"

"Women," he said with a snort.

"You're the product of a single mother, probably raised in near-poverty, based on your simple tastes. Whatever your father did to you and your mother, it was probably bad. You're somewhat protective of women, even if you refuse to form attachments, and you're aggressive with men."

He tilted his head to the side. "Not bad."

"I cheated on part of that," she admitted. "I got here early and was reading the highlighted portions of one of your psychology books."

"My turn again." He leaned forward. "You were sent here because you have some sort of special skill. You want something I have. Whoever is behind sending you here is probably threatening you, if you don't deliver."