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door.”
    Her jaw unhinged. “That’s just creepy.”
    “It’s just common sense.”
    “You think I’m going to try to escape?”
    “You’re not in jail, Kate.”
    She started to turn, then froze, narrowing her eyes. “I thought that was against the rules.”
    He knew exactly what she was referring to. “You’re right. I should call you Mathilda or Tilly or anything but your real name, but…” He let his eyes drift over her, lingering on that baby-pink sweater that draped over her body and her long, feminine thighs in jeans that were tight all the way to the ankle, where they grazed low black boots. “Kate suits you.”
    “Fine, break the rules. Call me Kate, and then I can call you…” Her voice rose in question.
    “Benjamin.”
    She tipped her head, almost smiling. He watched her, waiting, a little surprised by how much he wanted to see her smile. How much he actually needed to see her face light up, just for the raw pleasure of it. But she didn’t, and the disappointment was almost as unexpected as his thoughts.
    “Come on, you know my name,” she urged.
    “Because you insisted on telling me. Your choice, not mine.”
    “But now that I know Benjamin isn’t your real name, I’m going to obsess until I know what it is.”
    He gave a quick laugh, mostly to cover the slow burn that suddenly surged in him at the idea of her giving him that much thought. “You don’t strike me as obsessive.”
    She scooped up the handbag she’d left on the counter, flipping it on her shoulder. “All women obsess, don’t you know that?”
    “I don’t know much about women,” he admitted as she started to walk toward the hall.
    That stopped her. “But you know about being a bodyguard.”
    Why lie? “Not really. Never been one before.”
    “Then why are you one now?”
    “Gabe explained it’s a matter of convenience for both of us. I teach martial arts and have a black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Plus, I was a Marine for seven years. I’m perfectly qualified.”
    Her gaze dropped to his right hand. “But you’re not entirely safe yourself, is that right?”
    “I’m a marked man,” he said simply. “That’s why I’m here, and that’s why I need a cover. You are in a similar situation. So it makes sense.”
    “No, nothing makes sense right now.” She sighed as if she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Then she glanced around the little house. “So this is it? The whole place? It seems small.”
    Actually, it was pretty spacious. But it probably seemed small for two people who weren’t actually married, or even friends. “Want a tour?” he asked.
    “Sure. How long have you been here?”
    “A few weeks.”
    “All alone?”
    He half-shrugged. “When I got here a while ago, I was…” In pretty bad shape. His broken rib had almost healed, and a doctor Gabe knew had set his busted nose. The bruises on his hands were gone now, and he was able to start slow workouts. Since he couldn’t leave the villa, he’d improvised training on the back patio.
    “You were what?” she prodded.
    “Waiting for my cover.”
    “Which would be me.” She sounded like a woman who’d finally accepted the truth.
    “I couldn’t go anywhere,” he continued. “So I watched about six hundred movies on Netflix, read some books about how to be a bodyguard, and meditated a lot. And I cook.” He gestured toward the gas stove next to him, an appliance he’d come to love.
    “You meditate?”
    “I do a lot of yoga.”
    “I thought you were making fun of yoga before.”
    He shook his head. “No, it’s a big part of my training.” He felt her intense gaze on him and tried to remember the last time anything that wasn’t a fist in the face made him feel like squirming as much as right that minute. Maybe never. What the hell? She was just looking at him.
    He cleared his throat and gestured toward the spread of sofas and chairs in the living room, a dining area off to the side. Wide planks of hardwood gleamed in