“Well, I’ve been invited here, so maybe you’re in the wrong house?”

Oh yeah, right. Good try, buddy. “CC never mentioned they were expecting a houseguest.”

“Wade never mentioned there’d be someone else staying here, either, so right back at ya.”

“I’m going to call them and check.”

“You do what you gotta do, lady, but I’ve been travelling for twenty-four hours and through so many time zones my jet lag has jet lag. I am beat. So maybe before you wake a heavily pregnant woman in the middle of the night you could”—he swung his legs over the bed with a grunt and a wince—“point me in the direction of an empty bedroom where I can crash? I plan to sleep for at least a week.”

Jane watched as he reached for a cane with a fancy silver handle that was propped against the table on his side of the bed and leaned heavily on it as he hauled himself off the mattress before turning to face her. He did look beat. Weary lines etched his face; his eyes were bloodshot. He also looked in pain as his hand absently massaged a thigh sporting a long, thick scar that didn’t look so old.

She didn’t think he was capable of lunging, given that rising seemed difficult enough. And he was right—she wasn’t going to wake CC at two in the morning when it appeared there’d been some miscommunication.

She lowered the pliers slightly. “Go out, turn right. Fourth door down is a free bedroom.” They were all free, but Jane wanted to put space between them.

He grunted in acknowledgment, nodding briefly before turning away again and slowly heading to the door. She imagined it was difficult to make a dignified exit in the middle of the night in underwear while leaning on a cane, but somehow this guy managed.

Jane’s fight-or-flight instinct fell quickly the closer her intruder/surprise houseguest got to exiting the room. That she noticed the width of his shoulders and the taut globes of his ass in his black boxer briefs was testament to how much her internal threat level setting had diminished.

Jane blinked. What the hell? Do not crush on a stranger who got into bed with you, dumbass.

The door opened, and he limped through it, disappearing from sight without a backward glance as it clicked shut. Her breath expelled on a rough pant as she absently slipped her hand onto Finn’s shoulder and hugged him closer to her leg.

“Is he staying, Mommy?” Finn asked in a still-hushed voice as he, too, stared at the door.

Not if she could help it. “I don’t know, Finny. Maybe.”

Then, on wooden legs, she crossed the room and firmly locked the door.

…