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wounded. He was fine. He was in front of her, washing dishes. He was on her estate, planning a new business.  
    “And when he’s done, he’ll needsomething. A purpose.”
    Cara stood between Mick and his future purpose.
    At the moment, she knelt at his feet. A wobbly, hysterical laugh ripped out of her mouth as she pushed herself back up to stand on shaky legs.
    “You okay?” he asked, sliding his hand, wet from the dishwater, around the back of her elbow.
    “Fine.”
    His fingers tightened against her skin and she tried not to shiver, but itwas impossible. His nearness overwhelmed her, his size and his voice and his strange, unreadable gaze all making a most confusing package that affected her on a dangerous level.
    A primitive, emotional level.
    “It’s been a long weekend,” she added quietly as she took the first plate, then the second, drying them carefully. Every extra second she stretched the task out was a second she’d spendside-by-side with Mick. Tingles still skittered up and down her arm from where he’d touched her.
    “Right. You said you wanted to get to bed.”
    Heat bloomed low in her belly at Mick saying the word bed, then whooshed through the rest of her as her brain pictured what that would be like. He was so much bigger than her. He didn’t give much away. Would he be vocal? Or the strong, silent, commandingtype?
    What did she want him to be?
    Stop it , she hissed in her mind. She couldn’t want him to be anything related to sex. She couldn’t want him at all. She needed him to be gone.
    The swirl of water down the drain jerked her out of her thoughts. She stepped back from the sink and nodded inanely at his shoulder. “Yes. Okay. Good night.”
    And she stood there.
    She told herself to walk backwards.But nope, she just stood there, waiting.
    Because tomorrow they’d wake up and they’d both call the law offices in New York. Tomorrow, one way or another, they’d get to the bottom of this.
    Tomorrow they’d be enemies once again, on the opposite side of a fight, and in the balance would hang her job and his future. Only one of them could be happy tomorrow.
    But tonight, she couldn’t stop thinkingabout the wet glide of his fingers against her skin and the hooded, tight expression on his face as he stared into the darkness. Tonight, she didn’t want to say goodnight to this man that she’d just seen for the first time, really.
    She wanted him to turn around and look at her, maybe see her, too. Her made her want to be reckless and do something stupid.
    But when he turned around, he just gaveher a slow half-smile and dipped his head. “Okay, then. Good night.”
    She rocked from side to side on the balls of her feet. “Tomorrow…”
    He lifted his head. He frowned for a split second, then rolled his lower lip between his teeth, slightly off-centre. “Let’s worry about that tomorrow.”
    “Thanks for dinner.”
    “My pleasure.”
    No, it had been hers, in a strange, unexpected way. She gave him atentative smile, her eyelashes brushing her cheeks as she let herself—just for a second—savour the moment.
    When she opened her eyes again, he was closer.
    Her heart thumped hard in her chest.
    He lifted his hand and, light as a feather, brushed his third finger over her cheek. “You’ve got an eyelash there,” he said gruffly.
    “Should I make a wish?” she whispered, shifting closer. His own eyelasheswere thick and straight, golden brown in the dim light, and she wished she had an excuse to touch his face.
    His face was all hard angles and carved lines, but up close, his mouth was lush. A hidden softness in the tough guy exterior, and when he parted his lips, she caught a glimpse of straight white teeth.
    Would he sink those into her skin if he got carried away? Mark her, then soothe thatspot with his tongue?
    “I think you already are,” he rumbled, and she blinked up at him. “Making a wish.”
    She gasped. Was she that transparent? Her hand flew to her burning cheek.