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decorated before I knew you’d be more Bruce Willis in Die Hard than Maria from Sound of Music .”
    “I can try to remember some of the words to ‘My Favorite Things’ if that helps,” he said, grinning. “Wasn’t there something about raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens—”
    She laughed and halted in the doorway of his room. “Here we are. If it makes you feel better, the sheets are very high thread count, so they’ll be soft and luxurious on your skin.” She swallowed, feeling like an idiot as she imagined his big, warm body sliding between the cool sheets, his thick legs twining with hers, his arm slung across her breasts as he pulled her close and—
    “Air-conditioning,” she squeaked, striding across the room to grab the remote control. “Use this to change the temperature if you get too hot, or you can opt for the ceiling fan and open windows like I do.”
    “I’ll be fine,” he said, his massive hand closing around hers as he accepted the device and smiled. “Thank you.”
    She nodded and tried to smile back, but her heart was slamming hard against her rib cage and her whole body ached with the need to feel those massive palms moving over her body.
    “Okay then,” she said, stepping back and reluctantly pulling her hand from his. “Let me know if you need anything.”
    He looked at her, and Sheri felt her stomach do a big, swirly flip in her abdomen. He held her gaze, his blue eyes boring into hers. Even if she’d wanted to look away, she was frozen in place. Her face felt hot, her toes felt cold, and somewhere in the middle she felt deliciously warm like she’d just swallowed a quart of melted butter.
    “If I need anything,” he murmured, “you’ll be the first to know.”

Chapter Four
    For two hours, Sam lay awake staring at his apricot walls and listening to the chirp of crickets and the occasional crow of a rooster who had no sense of time. On the shelf beside the bed, the baby monitor offered the soft swish of hushed breathing.
    He thought about Sheri sleeping soundly in the next room, just on the other side of the wall. He imagined her lying tangled in the sheets with all that curly hair spilling across the pillow and her nipples puckered from the air-conditioning. His heart clenched. What did she wear to bed? Was it silky and soft, or did she skip nightwear altogether in deference to the Hawaii heat?
    He rolled over and tried to refocus his brain on the job he’d come to do. Mac’s sources had confirmed that Jonathan Price had returned to Hawaii, but he was all the way over in Honolulu.
    For now.
    He was glad Sheri made no mention of her ex trying to contact her, but he needed to be on high alert. For the next two weeks, Lieutenant Limpdick could show up at any time. Sam needed to be ready.
    After Sheri had gone to bed, he’d done a thorough scan of the house. He’d found no trace of broken locks on windows or doors, though it was clear she could be lax about remembering to lock up. He made a mental note to be extra vigilant there. He’d found no unsecured guns or electrical outlets without child protectors. Nothing more threatening than a personal massager with a slightly frayed cord tucked behind her nightstand.
    He tried not to dwell too much on that image, rolling over again and commanding his mind to go somewhere else.
    He hated sneaking around and lying, especially after what she’d said earlier.
    Lying is the absolute worst thing. Worse than riptides and parking tickets and pubic lice combined.
    The least he could do was keep the lies to a minimum. Okay, so the chicken cordon bleu had come from a box at Costco. Gonsalves wasn’t a Japanese culinary school, but the Jungle Warfare Training Center in Okinawa where he’d been as a young Marine. And he’d done a few shifts in the mess hall, just like he had on the base in Sigonella in Italy.
    And he’d told the truth about the emotional impacts of his last job, even if he’d been vague on specifics.
    He closed his