Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

Dammit. The house phone. Why would the concierge call him?

He couldn’t come up with a single reason—unless it was about his car, but why wouldn’t the garage contact him directly?

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

Zach sighed and picked up the remote, pressed the button that connected him to the concierge.

“Yes?’

“Mr. Castelianos, I’m sorry to—”

Thunder roared. Zach frowned, plugged his free ear with his finger.

“Say again?”

“I said, there’s someone…says…she...”

More thunder, seemingly directly overhead. A jagged bolt of lightning speared through the sky.

Zach cursed under his breath and strode into the living room.

“I can’t understand you.”

“…who…says…expecting her and—”

Static crackled along the line.

“I’m not expecting anybody.”

“Lady says…met at…conference in Washington.”

A woman? From the D.C. conference? Sara? Siri? Sari. The one who’d left the voice mail message. Zach blew out his breath. First that voice mail. Now an unannounced visit. So much for her claim that she was just looking for a little fun.

“Sir? Shall…send…lady…up?”

Zach ran his hand through his still-damp hair. Which was worse? An uninvited woman or the concierge acting as intermediary in a private matter? Add in the fact that every second word was incomprehensible and the answer was self-evident.

“Send her up,” he growled, and he tossed the remote aside.

So much for feeling replete.

He strode through the living room, to the foyer, where he stood, hands on his jeans-clad hips, watching the bank of tiny white lights over the elevator blink as the car first descended to the lobby and then began its climb to the penthouse.

He told himself to calm down.

Sari whatever-her-last-name-was—dammit, he couldn’t come up with it—probably thought he was going to be delightfully surprised by her visit.

He knew that some men would. He wasn’t a dummy. She was stunning. The truth was, most men would.

But he wasn’t most men. For one thing, his profession had taught him the importance of maintaining his privacy. Security was definitely vital. For another, he simply didn’t enjoy violations of his turf. He had trust issues, one woman had snarled when he’d reacted—according to her, overreacted—to her offering him a key to her place and expecting, in return, a key to his.

Jesus. Talk about overreacting…

This was a visit. That was all it was. It wasn’t a security risk, it wasn’t a woman looking for an exchange of keys. This was about fun and sex, period. Drinks. Dinner. An evening of R and R. Maybe it wasn’t what he normally did after returning from a “situation,” but so what?

A bolt of lightning lit the room. Thunder snarled at virtually the same instant. The storm was powerful and it was directly overhead.

It could be an interesting accompaniment to what could be an interesting evening.