Any retort that she'd been brewing had halted in her throat when she felt his hand at her waist; familiar and unwelcome and all wrong for the moment. She was too mesmerized by his expression and the way he looked at her to find her voice or the flash of anger again. Because underneath it all, she missed him, and this was decidedly not helping.

She inhaled slowly, holding her breath as she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to filter through this new onslaught of emotions. "She's my sister." She managed in little more than a whisper, and without any of the venom she'd intended to spit at him. The very vivid scent of his cologne and the the all-too-intimate feeling of his hand on her body had her thoughts scattered to the wind, effectively rendering her arguments useless.