“And I have work to do.”

“It’s not a normal thing, you know.”

“It’s a perfectly normal thing. A dozen guys out there would have done the same.”

Stephanie shook her head.

Alec rolled his eyes and turned back to his spreadsheet.

“Let me guess,” she carried on. “You were in the marines.”

“No.”

“The army?”

“Go away.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “It’s my house.”

“It’s my job.”

She pondered for a minute. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

He slid a quizzical gaze her way.

“Answer the question.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but if it would get her out of the room and off his wayward mind, he was game to give it a try. “I was in the Boy Scouts.”

She frowned. “That’s not it.”

“Visited dangerous cities?”

A shake of her head.

“Had the occasional bar fight? Never started one,” he felt compelled to point out.

She braced her hands on the back of a chair and pinned him with a pointed stare.

“You’re not leaving,” he noted.

“That’s all you’ve got?” she demanded.

“What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. Something out of the ordinary. Something that taught you how to deal with danger.”

“I grew up on the south side of Chicago.”

“Seriously?”

“No, I’m making that part up.”

“Was it in a dangerous part of town?” she asked, leaning forward, looking intrigued.

Alec liked the way her pose tightened her T-shirt against her body.

“Relatively,” he told her. Crime had been high. Fights had been frequent. He’d learned how to read people and avoid situations, and how to handle himself when things went bad.

Her voice went low and intimate, as if somebody might overhear them. “Were you like a gang member? In rumbles and things?”

He reflexively leaned closer, lowering his own voice. “No gang. I was raised by a single father, a Chicago cop with very high standards of behavior.” Not that Alec had ever been tempted to join a gang. But his father most certainly would have stopped him cold.