Portia allowed her eyes to travel lower to his narrow hips and strong thighs. Her stomach flipped, and her knees suddenly felt weak. Looking at a man had never before made her feel like this, so … so feminine. She suddenly regretted that she hadn’t taken better care of herself this morning, not bothering to apply makeup. Why hadn’t she at least moistened her lips with lip gloss before she’d left campus?

“You done?” the vampire asked, catapulting her head first into a wave of embarrassment at being caught checking him out. And unlike a full-blooded vampire who couldn’t blush, the cheeks of her hybrid body burned, and she knew she was flushing the shade of a bottle of blood.

“Who are you?” she fired back. “And what the hell are you doing in my house?”

The vampire gave Oliver a sideways glance. “I take it she’s the brat I’m supposed to guard?”

Portia’s heart sank. Figured! The first man she felt the slightest bit of excitement for had to be the enemy. Right now she was ready to throttle her father. “Oh, this sucks,” she muttered.

***

Zane forced himself to remain calm when inside he was anything but. Years of practicing his stony expression helped him keep his cool. Samson was messing with him. Why the fuck had he assigned him to guard this … this vixen? How else could he describe her?

Her green-brown almond shaped eyes had traveled over his body while she’d licked her red lips, making them appear even plumper. He’d noticed her heartbeat accelerate and her breaths turn irregular, drawing his attention to her shapely breasts. She wore a bra under her casual tight sweater, something he shouldn’t even notice. But he did, just like he noticed her slim waist and those long, toned legs that were hidden in her jeans. She was tall for a woman, but that fact didn’t detract from her femininity.

Zane had expected to find a teenager; instead, he was faced with a grown woman. While that in itself shouldn’t bother him, his reaction to her did.

He was tempted to step closer to allow her tantalizing scent to wrap around him. He wanted to bury his face in her long black hair while his hands explored her body, peeling her out of her clothes. The thought of what he would do next made his pants feel tighter instantly. The teeth of his zipper dug into his aroused flesh, threatening imminent release. He’d heard of spontaneous orgasms, but he’d never imagined being so close to having one. Shit, he had more control than letting a beautiful face and an enticing scent screw him over like that!

“Zane!” Oliver was trying to get his attention.

He jerked his gaze away from Portia. “Yeah?”

“I’ll be back a half hour before sunrise. Will that give you enough time to get home or shall I get you a blackout van?”

It gave him way too much time in the presence of this walking sin called Portia for starters. Zane cleared his throat. “That’s plenty of time.”

He barely noticed Oliver leaving as his eyes moved back to his charge who still gripped the fridge door as if her life depended on it, her knuckles white as if she were riding a rollercoaster.

“I thought Oliver was my bodyguard.”

Zane shrugged, shaking off the feeling her melodic voice conjured up as it sank deep into his chest. “Even a bodyguard has to sleep, and your father doesn’t pay us for sleeping.” Had she really thought that they would make it easy for her to go against her father’s wishes?

“Nothing is going to happen to me while I’m at home. You might as well save yourself the trouble and take off.” She slammed the fridge door shut, signaling her contempt for him.

“Nice try, baby girl, but I’m staying.” Hell, what had he just called her? Baby girl? Was he losing it? He wasn’t one to toss out endearments like beads during Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

Her eyes flared, a red glint appearing in them as she planted her hands on the kitchen island. “My name is Portia. Use it if you must, but call me anything else and I’ll have you fired.” Then she turned and marched to the door, the clicking of her heels in synch with his rapid heartbeat. “And now I’m going upstairs to be alone.”

“Suit yourself,” he grumbled under his breath, his eyes glued to that backside she moved as if wanting to enthrall him.

Great, it had taken him under thirty seconds to get her to hate him. That had to be a record, even for him. Unfortunately, while he normally couldn’t care less who hated his guts and why, in this instance he had a sliver of regret. This time, his subconscious had done all the work for him, pushing her away with the ridiculous endearment he’d used, making sure she’d never look at him the way she’d done during the first ten seconds of their meeting. There’d been desire in her eyes, and that was the last thing he needed if he wanted to survive this assignment.