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whiskey-soaked voice.
    Kassandra screamed. From what she could see, standing about four feet in front of her was the weird thing that had been nudging at the base of her consciousness. It was the Greek warrior come to life. A very naked warrior. Naked except for the wee towel she’d used yesterday.
    He tackled her to the floor and placed his hand over her mouth. She attempted to kick him where it counted, but he kept her pinned in place.
    ‘I’m not going to hurt you. If I remove my hand you must promise not to scream. It hurts my head. Do you understand?”
    Kassandra nodded, even as the feel of him caused her to flush with heat.
    ”On the count of three, I will release you, but if you lie to me I will not be happy.”
    That certainly sounded like a warning. Kassandra wasn’t usually one to scream but he’d surprised her. Now that she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, case in point, he could easily have done so already, she’d quickly kick him out of her apartment.
    “ One. Two. Three.”
    He released her mouth and jumped back from her. Smart man!
    Kassandra gulped nervous ly and fought the hysterics that threatened to sweep through her as she watched the most magnificent specimen of a man reach down for the towel to cover himself with. She forced herself to look up. Bad, this is bad. She took in the full effect of him in one heart-wrenching oh-my-god, bone-melting, toe curling glance. He was drop-dead yummy and a man who radiated sex. A good six and a half feet of solid, bronzed muscle stood before her. Long black curly hair flowed well past his shoulders and every cliché in the book jumped into her head as she eyed his abdomen which looked like he did about two hundred sit-ups a day. His actions to attempt to use the small towel were almost comical but there was nothing remotely funny about the cold stare he sent her way.
    “I’m Darius. And you are?” he asked, giving his hair a good shake.
    It was then she realized she’d been staring, actually gawking with her mouth wide open.
    “Kassandra,” she squeaked. “And you’re dripping all over my floor. Did we...did we...what exactly did we do?” she forced the words out, not caring that she sounded out of breath.
    The man smiled a lazy , feral smirk at her, while he arched his dark eyebrows in amusement. “Do? You don’t remember?” He advanced a foot closer to her. She was not about to scurry onto her bed, so she stood ramrod stiff and locked eyes with him. It was a military pose that would have pleased any of her commanding officers.
    Another serious mistake, she thought. His e merald eyes, so green they were sinful, flashed at her. His face was the stuff of dreams. Okay, her dreams. A strong masculine nose, square jaw and dark black eyebrows framed mysterious eyes. How horrible. He had the longest silkiest eyelashes she’d ever seen on a man, and that wasn’t fair. He was drop-dead handsome. This isn’t good at all.
    Then she noticed his tattoo and shook her head. His upper torso was covered with the most amazingly intricate body art of a sea dragon. It was mesmerizing. The tattoo artist who did it must have been the best. The body of the sea dragon draped itself over his right shoulder and, she assumed, down his back. How low does it go? she wondered silently, fighting back a hysterical giggle.
    H eat pooled to her face, flustering her. How on earth can I be thinking lustful thoughts about a guy I don’t know? She was not pleased at herself.
    Licking her lips she broke the silence. “No....I mean, I’m sure it was good....I mean... Oh, I don’t really know what I mean,” she confessed, bowing her heated face to inspect the carpet on her bedroom floor. She bit at the inside of her cheek to come back to reality. This was not what she had expected. It wasn’t every day one woke-up with a hunk of a man who looked like a Greek warrior or who looked like he made a living modeling for GQ.
    His fingers gently forced her head up to look at him.
    “We