"Oh, shit." The unknown man made his way around the island in the kitchen and gently grabbed my hand, flipping the cold water on and shoving it underneath. "Typically, I make a better first impression than that."

I glanced up.

Zane Andrews.

The Zane Andrews was holding my hand under the faucet. If I wasn't shaking before, I sure was now.

I tried to jerk back, too embarrassed to even exist. I couldn't talk to him. I couldn't do anything. All I could do was stare at my angry, red hand and pray that he'd get amnesia.

Zane Andrews was…

Zane Andrews. If you said his name fast enough, it sounded like St. Andrews, which is how he got the nickname Saint from all his many Twitter followers.

He was the hottest thing to hit the music scene since Ashton Hyde, or, as I knew him, Gabe, had come out of hiding and started recording again.

And that had been huge news.

As in, it had been a year, and people were still talking about him.

But Zane Andrews? He was the equivalent of…

If Madonna and Lenny Kravitz decided to procreate…

… a sexy baby rock star would be born…

… and his name would be Zane.

With pitch-black hair and eerie golden brown eyes, he was seriously every woman's fantasy come to life.

At twenty-five, he'd already won over fifteen Grammys, and was said to be vacationing with friends while he took a much needed — oh crap — break.

Was Jay the friend?

I vaguely remembered him saying a friend might stop by for a few weeks.

But it had been months ago that we'd had that conversation.

Crap.

"Hey, you okay?" Zane's smile was kind, zapping any kind of embarrassment I'd once had.

With a quick nod, I jerked my hand free and stumbled backward, nearly colliding with the fridge.

"Whoa." He held up his hands in surrender. "I promise I don't bite."

I'd have expected him to say something whorish like. "I promise not to bite… much."

He didn't.

I also expected him to hit on me. Rumor had it; he even hit on eighty-year-old women — because he could.

Instead, he seemed, almost… shy.

With a gulp, he made his way toward me, holding out his hand. "I'm Saint, but my friends just call me Zane."

I took his hand then quickly held up my finger and grabbed the notepad I stashed in the kitchen just in case I needed to leave a note for Pris or Jay.

With shaky hands, I scribbled out a message.

Sorry. I don't know if Jay told you, but I don't exactly talk. As in, I can't. I'm mute, but it's nice to meet you, and I'm sorry I stole your coffee.

Zane moved to look over my shoulder, his eyes taking time to read every word before he glanced back at me and winked. "It's cool. I still can't sleep without a nightlight, so we all have our issues, now don't we?"

I let out a little laugh and nodded.

"Besides…" He was still extremely close to me, so close I could feel a wave of heat emitting from his large six-foot-four frame. "… sometimes, I think messages would be so much clearer without words getting in the way."

It was the perfect thing to say.

Maybe he was a saint.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

"So," Zane moved around the island and poured another cup of coffee then brought it over to me. "… I hear you're Lincoln's new assistant. I hope he's not being an ass."

I held up my hand and flip-flopped it from side to side, indicating so-so.

Zane's laugh was soft. He gripped his ceramic mug tightly, the muscles in his tattooed forearms flexing.

Meanwhile, my phone kept buzzing.

"Yeah, well…" Zane lifted the cup to his mouth and drank then set it back down. "I'm sure you're more of a handful than you let on."

I smiled at that.

An angry knock pounded against the door, and then it nearly burst free from the hinges as Lincoln exploded through as if he was ready to tear someone apart.

"What the hell!" he roared. "Dani, I thought you'd been kidnapped or something. I texted. I called three times. I had to look for the damn hide-a-key. It freaked me out! Don't ever—" He stopped yelling and glanced at Zane then without a word stalked toward him.

"Saint?" He said it like a growl, his fists clenched tightly.

Zane looked up over his coffee cup and smirked. "Mother."

The next thing I knew, the coffee cup shattered against the counter as Lincoln punched Zane in the face. Twice.

I scrambled toward them, not sure what I could do to actually stop the two massive beasts and their caveman ways, but I worried about blood getting on the carpet.

The minute I reached them, Lincoln got up, dusted his jeans off then held his hand out for Zane.

"Thanks, man." Zane grinned.

"Yeah, well…" Linc ran his hands through his thick hair. "… you knew you had it coming."

"True." Zane winced as he dabbed his lip with his finger. "But could you have at least taken your ring off first?"

Lincoln nodded seriously. "Next time."

"Awesome." Zane groaned then stole my coffee and took a slow sip.

My jaw went slack. Were they friends? Enemies? Frenemies?

"You ready, Dani?" Lincoln popped his knuckles.

I frowned then threw my hands up into the air. What the heck!

"Don't worry about it, coffee girl." Zane winked. "Just old business that needed settling. Isn't that right, Linc?"