Forgot my ass. More like wanted to increase her niece’s probability of hanky-panky.

Frieda anchored her purse over one shoulder and hustled toward the door fast enough Kir had no choice but to step out of her way. “Kir, there’s plenty of margaritas left for another round. You stay and keep Cassie company. She needs it after the day she’s had.”

Kir’s attention swiveled to Cassie, his expression darkening. “Something happened?”

“Car troubles.” Frieda paused over the threshold and jingled her car keys. “You just never know when they’re going to turn persnickety on you, right?” She aimed a sly wink at Cassie and wiggled her fingers in farewell. “You two have a good night.”

Cassie stared out the now empty doorway.

Two quick chirps sounded from the street and parking lights flashed in the darkness.

Kir faced her. While he kept his expression somewhat sincere, there was still mirth and a decent amount of curiosity dancing behind his eyes. “It seems I’ve broken up your evening.”

Sighing, Cassie closed the door. “Kind of depends on whose view you’re looking at it from. I’m pretty sure Aunt Frieda is already planning an early stakeout to see if she can catch you leaving in the wee hours of the morning, looking thoroughly rumpled and pleased with yourself.”

“Is that an option?”

A playful, yet husky question that made every square inch of her skin bristle in anticipation. With the hungry way his gaze lingered on her bared legs and the tequila loosening her good sense, she was halfway tempted to say yes just to see what happened. “I highly doubt you dropped by for a booty call.”

“No, it’s not the reason for my visit. But I must confess, seeing the casual side to you does inspire me to make more unannounced appearances.” He sat on the couch and rested one ankle on his knee. “The view is exceptional.”

Good grief.

He’d been here barely more than two minutes and he not only looked utterly at home on her second or thirdhand couch, but had her body fired up and her brain frazzled.

She cleared her throat and motioned toward the kitchen. “Do you want a margarita?”

“Nyet. Tequila isn’t to my taste. However, I would like to hear more about what happened to your car.” He nodded toward the open space on the couch next to him. “Please. Sit.”

Said the spider to the fly.

With her couch being more of a longish loveseat than a full-size sofa and his considerable size, the two and a half feet left for her to settle into would make for cozy confines. Not exactly the best arrangement when her traitorous hormones were whispering of coups on her common sense. Then again, it wasn’t like she had a wealth of seating options beyond pulling up a dinette chair.

She opted for the sofa, but grabbed her margarita off the table as she rounded it and stayed perched on the edge. “Something about a timing chain. All I know is the mechanic shook his head and grimaced when he came out with the diagnosis.”