Adult life just seemed to be getting in the way.

By the time my cell phone rang, pulling me back into the present, the sky outside my bedroom window had turned completely black. Standing with a groan, I arched my back to work out all the kinks from hours spent sitting, hunched over my desk. I was mid-stretch as I reached for my phone, too wrapped up in the give of my muscles to pay attention to the name on the display.

“Hello?”

“I need you over here right now.”

Temporarily stunned, I stood frozen in place until realization hit me. “Rowan?”

“Who else could it possibly be?” he asked in a detached, insulting tone that instantly got my hackles up.

“People call me!” I insisted childishly. I hated how my maturity nosedived whenever it came to my boss.

“If you say so. I need you to get over here ASAP.”

There was a strong possibility I let out a rather indelicate snort at his typical assholery. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll be right there!” I answered, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

“Do you always have to be so damn difficult?” he grunted

“Do you always have to be such a raging hemorrhoid?” I fired back. I would have sworn I heard him choke on a laugh if I thought the man was capable of laughter. Rowan Locklaine was more likely to suck the souls from small children than to laugh.

“Did you really just call me a raging hemorrhoid?”

Was that humor in his voice? Couldn’t be. The Devil doesn’t have a sense of humor.

“If the shoe fits… or in your case, whatever Satan wears on his feet. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night, Rowan. Have your latest conquest run whatever bullshit errand you need taken care of. I’m off the clock and not required to be nice to you.”

“This is you being nice?” he asked indignantly, causing me to roll my eyes.

“Hanging up now.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” he hollered through the phone line just as I was about to disconnect. Reluctantly, I held the phone back up to my ear. “Look.” He huffed out a loud breath. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to insult you… Navie? You still there?” he asked when I remained silent for several seconds after his apology.

“The world is coming to an end, isn’t it? It’s the zombie apocalypse. I’m not prepared! I haven’t taken any crossbow lessons yet!”

“You’re friggin’ hilarious,” he deadpanned.

I didn’t bother to stifle my laughter. “I like to think so.”

I listened as he inhaled deeply. “Please, I really need your help. I know it’s your day off, but it’s an emergency. I’ll even make sure Lauren pays you time and a half. Can you just please get here as fast as you can?”

“Rowan.” I sighed in exasperation. “It’s at least a twenty-minute train ride to your place. It’s not like I can just snap my fingers and make myself appear on your doorstep. You’re on the Upper East Side and I’m in Murray Hill.”

“I’ll pay for a cab.”

“Fine,” I grumbled dramatically. “But I’m not changing out of my comfy clothes. And I want double-time, not time and a half.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you want. Just get here.”

At the unease in his voice, I began to worry a little about what was so important that I had to rush over to his apartment on a Saturday night. Not wanting to hesitate in the event it was something major, I slipped on a pair of bright pink flip-flops, pulled a gray hoodie on over my ‘That’s what she said’ t-shirt, and headed for the door. The only change I was willing to make before walking out the door was trading in my yellow rubber ducky pajama pants for a pair of plain black leggings.

By the time my cab pulled up in front of Rowan’s building, he was already standing out front waiting for me. As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, he leaned in and paid the driver before rising to his full height and turning my way. His hair was standing on ends, as if he’d been running his hands through it anxiously, and I couldn’t help but notice how amazing his body looked in just a plain white tee and another pair of athletic shorts. Man, it really was a crying shame he was such a mega-douche. Women around the world would line up just for a chance to stare at him uninterrupted for five minutes.

“Navie,” Rowan’s rumbly voice called out, shaking me back into reality. When my vision came back into focus, I noticed Rowan was standing much closer than he had been just a second before. When had that happened?

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were coming.” His typically chilly blue gaze warmed just a bit as a cocky smirk spread over his lips. “You were just checking me out, weren’t you?”

Oh, hell, I thought with a huge roll of my eyes.

“You were, admit it. You didn’t hear what I was saying because you were too busy checking me out. It’s okay, everyone does it.”

“And then your mouth opens and the fantasy’s ruined,” I responded dryly with a roll of my eyes as I shoved past him. “Let’s get this over with. Too long in your presence and the desire to cause bodily harm becomes too overwhelming to ignore.”

“You know,” he started as we stepped into the elevator leading up to his floor. “I had no idea you were so… feisty. Gotta say, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Oh, goody. My purpose in life has been accomplished. I can die happy now.”

Luckily, the doors chose to open at that moment, saving me from whatever smartass comment Rowan had in return.

“All right,” I said as I reached his door and turned the knob. “What was so damn important you dragged me down here in the middle—?” As soon as the door to his apartment swung open, my ears were assaulted by the wretched warbling of what sounded like a cat being bludgeoned to death.

“What the hell is that?” I whisper-yelled as I stepped over the threshold.

“I can’t be certain, but I think it’s supposed to be Taylor Swift.”

I turned back, wide-eyed, to see Rowan still standing by the door. “You mean that’s a person? Singing?”

His only response was to nod warily.

My gaze darted from Rowan toward the kitchen and back to Rowan again. “I don’t—” I began, just as understanding took hold. “Oh, hell no!”

Rowan stepped in my path just as I started back for the front door, blocking my escape with his large, stupidly perfect body. Damn him!

“Please, just listen,” he rushed to say in a quiet voice, although I wasn’t sure why. The person butchering “Bad Blood” in the kitchen was more than likely all anyone on Rowan’s floor could hear. “I know this is so far beyond the scope of fucked-up, it’s not even funny, but she won’t leave! She just showed up here and I can’t get her out.”

“Nope. Nuh-uh. No freaking way, Rowan! Nowhere in my job description does it say I’m responsible for the removal of your booty calls. That’s low, even for you.”

“I didn’t sleep with her!” he insisted vehemently. I looked at him like he was an idiot if he expected me to believe that. “I really didn’t, at least not this time. She said she wanted to make me dinner, but we finished an hour and a half ago! She began washing dishes and whenever I mention her possibly leaving, she starts washing one of the knives from the butcher block. She’s washed, like, six knives! And they were already clean! You have to help me. Please.”

And just like that, a light bulb went off in my head.

The way Navie’s dark blue eyes narrowed menacingly should have been worrisome. However, I’d crossed the line from worried over an hour back and was firmly planted on the side of ‘legitimately terrified for my life’, thanks to the woman in my kitchen currently making noises akin to those an animal might make while being castrated.