Overnight Male. Elizabeth Bevarly

and tapped the mouse pad with her middle finger to bring the computer out of sleep mode.

      As she began to type, Adrian set his snifter on a side table and strode across the room to stand behind her. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that she’d gone to the iTunes music store and pulled up information on a band he’d never heard of before. He had to remind himself he was only forty-six and in no way ready for the retirement home. But having spent the past few months with this group, he’d been forced to accept the fact that pop culture no longer catered to his generation. Actors, singers, dissidents, serial killers—they were all younger than Adrian these days. College students were making millions selling Web sites they designed on a lark, and the teenage offspring of bestselling novelists were hitting the lists even higher than some of their parents. Society was now geared to those who were younger, hipper, faster. The ones who required less sleep and more distraction, thereby ensuring that the entertainment industries made money around the clock.

      Maybe he wasn’t old, Adrian thought, but he was older. And he was no longer a part of that demographic that everyone wanted to attract. All the more reason to take as much as he could as quickly as he could. So that he could disappear on his own terms, instead of on theirs.

      “We haven’t had fun for a while, have we?” he told Iris over the din of the still-arguing boys on the other side of the room.

      He completed another step, an action that placed him immediately behind her, close enough that he could have settled both hands on her shoulders had he wanted to. Funnily, he realized he did want to. But he didn’t. Yet. Instead, he only gazed down at the crown of her head, scrutinizing the part in her hair that zigzagged across her scalp. He smiled when he found what he was looking for. There, very faint, he saw that her roots were blond. Very blond. Nearly white-blond. His grin broadened. He’d always had a predilection for blondes.

      “You’re right—we should do something fun this evening,” he agreed as Iris began to download music from that band Adrian had never heard of onto his laptop. Without asking his permission. Not that he minded. Much. And although he himself had one or two additional ideas as to what that “fun” might involve, he decided to focus instead on his original plan.

      For now.

      IRIS DAUGHERTY WAS MORE than a little aware of Nick Darian’s nearness as he stood behind her and watched every move she made on his computer. Good. ‘Bout damned time he started noticing every move she made, since she’d been watching his every move since the day Chuck had introduced the two of them. Even if he did have probably twenty years on her and dressed like a corporate drone. And even if he was interested in any of them only because they knew ‘puters and didn’t mind overstepping the law. Kind of hard not to watch a guy who looked as good as Nick did, with that thick auburn hair and those amber eyes and those cheekbones sharp enough to slice tomatoes. And those shoulders that were broad enough to strain the seams of his shirt. And that waist just narrow enough for a woman to wrap her arms around. And a chest just perfect for that same woman to settle her head against.

      Not that Iris had done any of those things to Nick. Not that she was likely to in the near future. But a girl could dream, couldn’t she? Hell, yeah.