But Natalie relished the lack of expectations. There were no awkward dates for her to flub or conflicting opinions to put them at odds or, God forbid, any uncertainty about his intentions.

So far, Jett had been very accommodating. Of course, one of these days he’d have other plans. Or not be home when she knocked. Or… She gulped.

One day he’d find someone else, someone important to him who wouldn’t appreciate him having a no-strings affair with his neighbor across the hall.

But not yet.

Not today.

Natalie was sorting through her feelings about the indistinct future when Jett opened his door.

Her breath caught. Forget the future; she wanted to concentrate only on the here and now.

Wearing nothing more than a damp towel and his wet hair uncombed, Jett’s dark-eyed gaze burned in a look she recognized only too well. He stood with his feet apart, one hand on the doorknob, the other on the frame above his head. The towel parted over one muscular thigh, showing an old scar, almost like a gunshot wound, on his right leg.

So many times Natalie had wanted to ask him about that scar. How had he gotten it, when.

Why?

She had no idea what Jett did for a living; she didn’t know anyone who’d been shot.

It’d be so easy to ask him…but she knew she shouldn’t. If she asked questions, it left him open to do the same. Eventually he’d find out that her father was ridiculously wealthy and well respected in the business world. He’d find out that she and her sister had been effectively disowned.

And he’d find out about her mother.

Her chest tightened with the thought. No, she didn’t want that.

The effortlessness of their straightforward sexual relationship was too enjoyable to modify it with idle curiosity.

Shaking off all other concerns, Natalie stepped toward Jett. As if her movement broke a spell, Jett dropped his arms around her and drew her in close, taking her mouth in a hungry, devouring kiss. Still with his mouth on hers, he lifted her inside and kicked the door shut.