He had presence, as Mom would say.

My mom had dated a string of men with presence—drug problems, felonies, heavy fists.

I groaned. I was spending way too much time analyzing this guy.

But my mouth had other ideas. “So what exactly is Declan’s type,” I asked Blake, turning my eyes to him.

“Blond hair, long legs, smart. Mostly sorority girls with attitudes and rich daddies. In fact, his ex, Nadia, is here somewhere.” He gazed around at the crowd as if to find her.

I snorted. “Rich girls? I’m here on an academic scholarship. I think I’m safe.”

“Safe from what?” Declan asked me as he approached us. I startled. He’d moved a lot faster than I’d thought. He handed me a chilled bottle of water, his warm hands again connecting with mine, his fingers lingering.

Sparks went off on my skin.

Did he carry some kind of electrical current machine around in his pocket?

He handed a Solo cup of beer to Shelley.

I tried to focus my eyes away from him, but the darn things kept returning to him, searching his face and taking in the details. He had a three-inch white scar above his right eyebrow and I found myself wanting to touch it, to trace it with my fingers and ask him what had happened. He was preoccupied with me too, giving me long glances but then looking away and rolling his neck as if what he saw in me made his shoulders tight.

Ha. I bet he had a line of girls waiting to work those kinks out.

But still that didn’t stop me from following him to the back of the yard when he suggested it, saying we could talk without everyone in our face.

Blake went off to dance with one of the fraternity little sisters. Shelley checked with me to make sure I was okay and when I told her I was fine, she and Dax headed out to dance.

We stood with our backs against the fence and watched the party, laughing every now and then at something crazy someone would do in the pool or on the dance floor.

“Do you think we’re the only sober people here?” I asked. I’d noticed he’d been drinking water too.

He shrugged. “My father drinks a lot, and I don’t want to be anything like him.”

I heard the tension in his voice, and because I wanted to ease him, I opened up. “Hmm, no family is perfect. My dad’s in prison—or at least the man my mom tells me is my dad. I’ve never met him, but he’s there for murder.”

His mouth parted, a look of surprise on his face. That I was the spawn of a killer? “Bugger, that must have been tough.”

“He beat a guy to death in an alley outside a bar while he was on probation for selling drugs. He got life.” My gut tightened as I took in his black eye. “My mom says he was a hothead. Maybe it’s a good thing I never knew him. People who use their fists scare me.”

His body tensed at that, but it didn’t stop me from babbling on and on. Maybe it was because he was a stranger, and I figured I’d never see him again. “My mom, on the other hand, wanted to be a Vegas showgirl but then she got pregnant with me. I guess you could say I ruined her life.” I shrugged, pushing those memories away. “So, how did you end up here? Are you an athlete?” My eyes lingered on his broad chest. Again.

He grinned. “No.”

Oh.

“I’m originally from London. My mum was English and my dad’s American—he was the ambassador to England years ago.” He seemed to gather himself, adjusting his stance, his eyes suddenly everywhere except on me. “They divorced when I was a toddler, and when I was ten, Mum died from cancer. Dax and I moved here to Raleigh to live with my dad. I guess you can say we’ve been Americanized in the past few years. At least I got a dual citizenship out of the union.” Hardness grew in his eyes. “He ripped everything away from us and then forgot we existed when he got remarried. I don’t see him often. He doesn’t care.”

I held my water bottle up. “A toast to shitty parents.”

A large blue dragonfly landed on my arm, its stick-like body vibrating. I’m not the kind of girl who screams bloody murder when an insect shows up. The artist in me preferred to study everything in great detail.

“Oh. Look how pretty it is,” I said, but he’d already seen it and had leaned in closer, the smell of him male and potent.

“It tickles,” I giggled after a while, and he shooed the creature away, his gentleness surprising me.

He watched it fly away and then sent me a considering glance. “It’s funny—every time I see a dragonfly, I think it’s my mum’s spirit. She loved them. Crazy-like. She even had this charm bracelet someone had given her, and you’d think she’d have different things on it, but all she bought were dragonfly charms. She had magnets, knickknacks, even paintings.” He rubbed his jawline. “On the day of her funeral, we were at the burial and one landed on Dax and then flew over to me. It hovered around us the entire time and wouldn’t leave. It was strange yet comforting—” He swallowed and then continued. “The day my father showed up at our house to move us here, one followed our car for miles. Weird, right? I—I just always think it’s her looking out for me.”

“That’s beautiful. Is that why you have the tattoo on your neck?”

“Yeah. To always have her with me.”

Him, him, him, my body said. Pick him tonight.

I fidgeted, switching my water from one hand to the other.

“Hey, you okay? Did my story bother you?” His eyes watched me, landing on my lips.

I licked them. “Uh, no, it’s just we seem to have this thing, like a connection, and I was wondering if maybe, you know, if you weren’t busy later, and you know, if you aren’t with anyone else, and if you think it’s cool, and if you’re attracted to me and like sex, then perhaps you could come back to my place?”

I closed my eyes in horror. Kill me now. Shit, shit, shit. That came out so wrong.

I popped my eyes open to see Blake jogging over to us. Thank God. Someone to rescue me from my stupidity.

I chanced a look at Declan for a reaction to my offer, but his face was a cool mask as he watched Blake approach us.

Had he even heard me? What was up with him?

Blake stopped in front of me, not looking at Declan. “Come on, you love this song. Let’s go dance,” he insisted, grabbing my hand and tugging.

I cleared my throat and got my nerve back up. “Why don’t we all go out and dance? Declan?”

Declan sent me a conflicted look, his eyes going to my hand enclosed in Blake’s and then back to my face. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No, thanks,” he said coolly.

What was that?

“Go on. I’ll be out there in a minute,” I told Blake, who immediately sent me a sulky look but stalked back to the dance floor.

I turned to Declan. “Why don’t you want to dance? No rhythm?” I grinned to lighten the suddenly dark mood he seemed to be in.

“Are you Blake’s girl?” His words were clipped.

“No. I don’t date anyone. I have fun, that’s it. And in case you missed it, I just propositioned you. Horribly.”

His face softened as he touched my hair briefly and then dropped his hand. “You shocked the hell out of me, you know. It was surprisingly … earnest and cute.”

Cute? The worse adjective ever for a girl. A death knell sounded.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I got caught up in the night and you …” Obviously, he wasn’t interested.

“Don’t think I’m not into you,” he said rather huskily.

“But?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“Whatever. I should be running like hell from a guy like you anyway.”

His eyes zeroed back in on mine. “Why?”

“Long story.”

He shifted closer to me, his hand brushing mine. “Maybe you can tell me that story someday.”

And then out of the blue, tears pricked at my eyes at his tenderness, and I hurriedly blinked them away before he noticed.

He exhaled, seeming to be uncertain about how to proceed. “Look, I’ve seen you around on campus. You keep to yourself and underneath you seem, well, fragile—and honestly, I like my girls and sex hard. I’d be all over you, and somehow I’m sensing you aren’t down with that.” His intense eyes searched mine. “Putting everything out there, I just broke up with someone a few months back, and I wouldn’t want to use you.”