"Is Kirsten here?" Joe repeated. He could appreciate that he had virtually forced himself into this woman's house but she was acting very strangely. Shit, had he got the wrong house? Knowing his luck today he probably had.

"She's away on business," she said slowly as if she were having trouble speaking, "In Prague or Warsaw or somewhere."

Joe gave a bitter laugh. Fucking typical.

"Who are you?" the woman asked. She was clearly regaining her senses and looking none too pleased.

"I'm a friend of Kirsten's. She said I could crash here."

The woman looked understandably suspicious. She was hanging onto the front of the silk robe she wore for dear life. "How do you know Kirsten?" she asked.

"Through Marcus."

"That figures," she snorted.

Joe was going to have to lay down some serious charm or he was in trouble. He unzipped the ugly kagoule, stretched languidly and smiled at her from under wet lashes. "I just need somewhere to crash for the night."

"I'm calling Kirsten," she said, "Stay here."

This woman, whoever she was, was no push over, Joe thought, as he watched a very shapely bum, clad in red silk, walk away from him.

"It's probably really early in the morning where she is," he called after her, his teeth starting to chatter making it difficult to get the words out. "Why don't you wait until later?"

Kirsten wasn't answering her phone anyway. Emma was tempted to lie and tell him Kirsten had never heard of him and threaten to call the police if he didn't leave. But he was dangerously cute. How often was this going to happen in her life? How often was a perfect specimen of manhood going to turn up on her doorstep? And with such perfect timing? It was going to happen precisely once, that's how many times it was going to happen. She hadn't failed to notice when he'd unzipped that hideous kagoule that his drenched t-shirt stretched over an impressive chest. And when he'd stretched, he'd revealed a flat brown stomach with a very happy trail reaching down to low-slung jeans. No paunch. No over-powering aftershave. Just a gorgeous man who needed helping out of his wet clothes.

Jesus, what was the matter with her? He could be a drug addict, a thief, a con man. In fact, if he knew Marcus it was highly likely he was all three. He could be a serial killer! Being beautiful didn't stop you from being evil. Look at Ted Bundy. Taking a gulp of the vodka and tonic still sitting on the coffee table, Emma nervously went back into the hall.

He was collapsed in a heap on the now wet rug shaking uncontrollably. Shit! Was he going cold turkey? How was she going to get rid of him now? She knelt down next to him and touched his shoulder. "Are you ok?"

He fixed her with limpid green eyes as if to say, "stupid fucking question," but his teeth were chattering too violently to actually speak. It looked like she was going to have to get him out of those wet clothes after all. She could hardly leave him in this state. And he was in no fit state to attack her.

"Can you stand up?" she asked and together they managed to get up the stairs and into the bathroom where he lay slumped on the floor as she ran a bath. She peeled his t-shirt off, pulled off his sodden shoes and socks and was reaching for his fly when a hand clamped over her wrist.

"Let me do it," he said, "Just help me up," and he leaned on her as he pulled off his jeans and underpants and got into the bath, lying back into the water with a sigh.

God, he was gorgeous. Where had he got that tan? It was November and the sun hadn't been seen for what felt like months. He had the kind of skin that looked like it tasted of something delicious like vanilla ice cream or cinnamon toast. Even his skull was beautifully shaped, a recent buzz cut showing off its perfection. His chest was indeed impressive and there was that perfectly muscled belly covered in just the right amount of hair leading to...Emma gulped and suddenly realized she was staring at his dick and he was staring at her.

It had been a fucking weird day, one of the weirdest. An hour ago Joe had been scared for his life and now he was lying back in a warm bath (with coconut scented bubbles for fuck's sake) with a beautiful woman staring at his dick. He was no stranger to beautiful women admiring that part of him but something about the combination of sheer terror, the steamy water and that red silk robe thing she was wearing was making him instantly hard. And when he saw her brown eyes widen he just got harder.

He gave her the smile that never failed to do the trick and said softly, "How about taking that robe off?"