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real problem with intimidation tactics deployed on single women in old, secluded houses.
    So, damn it, that’s why he was here tonight and not because his mouth watered at the sound of her bare feet padding along the hardwood to answer the door. Not because being with her overloaded his senses so much he wouldn’t have room to replay worn-out nightmares.
    The bolt slid free on the other side of the door and she opened it wide to admit him.
    â€œCome on in.” She still wore the low-slung cotton shorts and white tank top she’d had on during dinner.
    Of course. Duh. Could he help it if male fantasies had her answering the door in a lace negligee and highheeled slippers? Or maybe dark stockings on her long legs and nothing else?
    He really needed to get a grip.
    â€œThanks.” He edged past her into the kitchen where the only illumination came from a glass-front china cabinet with a lamp inside. “I would have been over sooner, but I had a few calls to return. My buddies are trying to talk me into a big beach shindig tomorrow night.”
    But he’d already ear-marked that time for Nikki. He’d be here for as long—and as much—as she wanted him over the next two weeks.
    Setting his bag on the floor near the cabinet, he noticed the books displayed inside. Bedroom Lessons. Secret Games. Lies from the Backseat. The covers were suggestive without being lewd. He’d read a couple of Chloe’s novels shortly after he’d met his neighbor, just out of curiosity.
    The rest of the house wasn’t as well packaged as the books, though. The old farmhouse didn’t have much furniture, and the pieces that were sitting in corners were covered with books and papers, boxes and piles of correspondence. But underneath the clutter, a fine structure lurked. The paneled wainscoting and polished, exposed ceiling beams were carefully crafted, still beautiful a hundred years after someone had taken the time to carve them.
    â€œIt’s generous of you to do this in the first place. I’m sure you have other ways you’d rather be spending your downtime.” Nikki closed the door behind him, sealing them in the dark house. From a few rooms away, he could hear soft music playing—something with a jazz blues vibe. A shelf full of Russian nesting dolls hoveredprecariously over old road signs proclaiming Farm Fresh Eggs and U-Pick. The sound of the dishwasher hummed nearby and Killer’s nails clicked along the worn hardwood as the dog approached to greet him.
    Had she even noticed she’d been dog-sitting all the time he’d been gone? The animal seemed right at home circling Nikki’s feet and she’d already laid out bowls of food and water for him. She seemed to like taking care of people and creatures alike. Damn but he hoped she wasn’t just being nice to him because he looked about as desperate as Killer had when the dog showed up on his doorstep last week.
    â€œNot really. I’m supposed to be in physical therapy for my leg a few times a week, but mostly I’m just counting down the days until I can go back to work.”
    Days he’d rather fill getting to know the sexy professor…who wanted to keep her distance. He bent to scratch the dog’s ears while she waved him forward into a dim hallway.
    â€œI put some sheets on a futon in the den.” She paused outside an archway across from the living room. Her eyes dipped south of the belt, and for a moment, he enjoyed a rush of pure male pride. Until her gaze kept going lower. Lower. “I noticed the bandages earlier. What exactly happened to your leg?”
    So much for male pride.
    The remembered sound of an explosion echoed between his ears. Light flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked away crap memories.
    â€œOccupational hazard.”
    Eyes wide, she reached forward as if to touch him and then pulled back fast.
    â€œDidn’t you say you work with explosives?” She kept