“I've had an abysmal day. I am not in the mood for entertaining much less having a meal with someone I don't know and who broke into my apartment and is currently threatening me.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. You are.” Sophie punctuated the words with a hard shove against his chest. To her surprise he stepped back, nimble as a cat and held his hands out wide.

It was her chance. She could slip out the door and make a run for it. If nothing else she could yell her lungs out. She knew all of her neighbors. Valorie across the hall with her five kids would call the police in a heartbeat.

But Sophie didn't yell.

She didn't yank the door open.

She didn't bolt.

“What's your name?” Sophie asked instead.

“Then we chat? Perhaps over wine?”

“No, then I check your references and perhaps we meet tomorrow for coffee.”

He laughed then; a long, inviting, warm chuckle that beckoned her to abandon caution for the sheer exhilaration of leaping.

“I am not sure what references you intend to check. Is there a database for cat burglars?”

“Is that what you are?”

“An outdated term to be certain, but I rather doubt that you will find me listed under some typical B & E reference of a library database.” His too sexy mouth twitched. He enjoyed the banter.

Call me crazy, but so am I.

“Then maybe Interpol would be a better reference point.”

“You wound me little bird. Interpol is extremely low brow for someone of my caliber.”

“And I only have your word for that.” Sophie countered.