His shoulder-length black hair curled slightly on the ends. A black sweater accentuated broad shoulders, and black jeans hugged his hips and long legs. He was a tall, dark, and handsome… hit man. My God. He could probably kill a woman just by giving her wildly erratic heart palpitations.

In fact, that was probably what he did. He wasn't carrying a weapon of any kind. Of course, those large hands of his—

Cold pain pierced her head once more, reminding her of the times she'd slurped down a frozen Slushee too fast.

"I have not come to harm you." His voice was low, almost hypnotic.

That was it. He lured his victims into a trance with his golden eyes and honeyed voice, then before you knew it— she shook her head. No, she could fight this. She would not give in.

He frowned, dark brows drawing closer together. "You are being difficult."

"You better believe it." She fumbled in her purse and whipped out her.32-caliber Beretta Tomcat.

"Surprise, sucker."

No shock or fear registered on his rugged face, only a slight hint of irritation. "Madam, the weapon is unnecessary."

Oh, the safety catch. With trembling fingers, she switched it off, then pointed the gun back at his broad chest. Hopefully, he hadn't noticed her lack of expertise. She widened her stance and used both hands like she'd seen on cop shows. "I've got a full clip with your name on it, scumbag. You're going down."

Something sparked in his eyes. It should have been fear, but she could have sworn it was amusement. He stepped toward her. "Drop the gun, please. And the dramatics."

"No!" She gave him her best and meanest glare. "I'll shoot. I'll kill you."

"Easier said than done." He took another step toward her.