“No,” Fisher said slowly, as slowly as he shook his head, as slowly as he made me weak in the knees.

“Did you hear from my mom?”

“No …” He dragged out another long, torturous no.

“Oh … I know. Duh. I was going to show you where water’s getting into the back room.”

Fisher lifted a single brow. I ignored him, handing Brendon my pool stick. “Be right back.” I marched to the back room with Fisher right behind me. As soon as he shut the door, I turned.

“Who’s your friend? Your introduction skills are not up to par. I know his name is Brendon and he likes my house. Care to elaborate now?”

“No. Why did you come downstairs?” I took one step then another toward him, my hands itching to touch him, my eyes disappointed that he was wearing a T-shirt. “Did you bring a condom?”

A half grin formed on his sexy, scruffy face. “No. Give your innocence to Brendon. I’m not in the business of pissing off my friends. And if I were you, I’d look for a new church. The sermon has already worn off. You’re looking for sin just hours after crossing the threshold of the church’s doors.”

“Who’s your friend?” I fisted his shirt, telling my unwise heart to ignore his comment about giving myself to Brendon or his rambling about finding a new church.

“Rory.” He kept his hands to himself and eyed me with caution.

“Rory is your tenant.”

“And my friend.”

“So you thought she’d be good with you only inserting the tip?” I could barely say those words without burning up.

“You’re a temptress. A typical church girl playing the innocent role. You should be truly ashamed.”

“Fisher?”

He waited a second to respond, but when his gaze fell to my lips, I knew I had him. “What?”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Don’t think.”

Wetting his lips as his grin hit full capacity, he said, “I never do when I’m with you.” Then he slid his hand to the back of my neck and kissed me. The knuckles of his other hand brushed my cheek. His touch so gentle—too gentle. It felt different. And maybe it was just my foolish heart hoping for more, but it didn’t feel like a purely physical moment.

“Send your friend home,” he murmured over my lips. “I want you all to myself.”

“I can’t. I have to drive him.” I pulled back, releasing his shirt as he released my neck.

“Did you pick him up at church?”

“His car was pinned in, and we wanted to go to lunch before the crowd flooded the parking lot.”

“A date?”

I started to respond but stopped just as quickly. “Why? Do you have a problem with me dating him?”

Say yes, Fisher. Just please say yes.