“Not happening, Betts, so forget it.” Knowing his sister, he added, “And don’t you dare go blabbing to the folks, either.” The last thing he wanted was his mother snooping around in his private life. His dad would shrug it off; his mother, like his sisters, would make him nuts with questions.

Being thirty-five and independent in every way didn’t matter, not to his nosy family. He was the only son, with three younger sisters. For years he’d felt protective toward them all, and now they were determined to pay him back in kind.

Somehow, he got Betts halfway to the door.

“If you’re seeing someone, I’d like to meet her.”

Annoyed, he turned to stare at his youngest sister. “No.”

“Why not?”

Because he wasn’t seeing Natalie, not in the traditional way Betts meant. They hadn’t had a single real date. The sum total of their time together had been spent either in bed or getting to the bed. Occasionally in the foyer against the wall, once on the couch, once over the back of the couch—

“Jett? Yoo-hoo.”

“You’re not meeting her, so forget it.” Even if he wanted to introduce her to his family, Natalie stayed around only until the lovemaking ended. Then she high-tailed it right back out of his life.

Hell, outside of sex talk, they’d barely even conversed. Jett told her what he wanted to do to her, with her, and Natalie always gave enthusiastic agreement. Period.

She’d made it abundantly clear that he was good only for sex.

Actually, she’d said he was great for sex; she hadn’t skimped on the compliments in that department. But she usually gave them while naked, draped over his chest, still breathing hard and rosy from a recent screaming climax.

Somehow, he had to work their combustible chemistry to his advantage so that Natalie would let him past her barriers.