Page 2 of My Favorite Hero

“It’s my place!” she informed me.

I laughed. “Lady, you got the wrong house.” I crossed my arms. “Maybe I should call the cops to sort this out.”

She wiggled some more, frantic and angry.

“I’m supposed to live here!” she yelped, trying to keep her camisole down but failing as the silky material bunched under her breasts. She gasped. “Please, help me.”

I shook my head, exasperated and upset. I strode over, slipping my arm around her torso. “Stop struggling.”

“I’m getting dizzy.”

“Hardly a surprise.”

She went quiet, her body limp. Suddenly, I didn’t find this as amusing as I had a moment ago. I lifted one leg, bracing her body with my knee, keeping my arm around her. It took some effort, but I got the window open wide enough so she slipped downward. I held her weight gently, lowering her to the floor, then let go of the window.

I bent and lifted her, carrying her to the living room and sitting her on the old sofa. I took a moment to look at her. She was small, her hair long, and her skin creamy. Her camisole was pulled up again, and I saw the red mark across her torso, just above the denim waistband. Feeling badly, I pulled the material down, but not before noticing just how full and lush her breasts were in the lacy lingerie.

I shook my head.

I shouldn’t be noticing the underwear of home invaders. Or the assets they covered.

I tapped her cheek. “Hey. Wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked around, first confused, then panicked.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

I crossed my arms and stood. “Since you’re in my house, I’ll ask the questions.”

She glared, struggling to get up.

Instinct took over, and I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Whoa. You passed out. No sudden movements.” I looked around. “You need water. Hold up.”

I hurried to the small bathroom off the kitchen, grateful for the stack of disposable cups. I filled one and went back to the living room. The woman was still sitting on the sofa, looking around as if transfixed. I handed her the cup. “Look at that—you can follow instructions.”

She glowered but took the cup, draining it. I was pleased to see the bright red fading from her cheeks and chest. Realizing I was, in fact, staring at that chest, I returned to the kitchen and grabbed her shirt off the floor. I handed it to her wordlessly.

A different color flooded her face as she took it and pulled it over her head. “I was really hot.”

“Again, hardly a surprise. Breaking and entering is a lot of work.”

“I was not breaking and entering.”

“This is my house.”

“But I’m going to live here.”

“No, you’re not,” I snapped, exasperated. “I already have an unwanted tenant coming, and he isn’t arriving for another two weeks. You have the wrong house.”

She blinked. “Wait, are you Thorne?”

“Jesse Thorne, yes. And you are?”

“Your new tenant.”

I shook my head. “KC Lawson isn’t set to arrive for another two weeks,” I stated again. “And you’re a woman. Not KC.”

She smirked at me. “Wow, you’re observant. I am a woman. But it’s Casey, not KC.” She then spelled it out. “And I’m not a man.”