One “Would you quit walking around here naked?” I’d tolerated the smell of coffee and—much, much worse—baking cinnamon rolls, but I’d be damned if I’d watch my new roommate eat and drink wearing nothing more than a damp towel. “Why, Glory? Is the sight of my bare chest getting to you?” Rafael Valdez licked white icing off one fingertip, and my fangs stabbed through my gums. “Listen. I’ve put up with your marathon showers until there’s no hot water left for mine. And your cooking smells.” Oh, great. Tears. But was it fair? Rafe’s a shape-shifter with a shifter’s insatiable appetite. He’d spent nearly five years stuck in dog body acting as my bodyguard. Now he was staying in hunky human form and was no longer at my mercy for his menu. Who knew he was a gourmet cook? Maybe popping open a can of sweet rolls wasn’t gourmet in some books, but I knew nirvana when I smelled it. He polished off roll number six—yes, I’d been counting—then stood. I would not notice the towel flapping open. He strolled over—flap, flap—to lay a gentle hand on my shoulder. Someone in this apartment was making a trip to the nearest discount store to get jumbo beach towels tonight. Since Rafe obviously didn’t care who ogled his family jewels, that someone would have to be me. Serve him right if I bought hot pink Hello Kitty. Let