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some sort between them. “Whatever suits your fancy, Sweetheart.”
    She started to speak, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. “I know. I know. Don’t call you sweetheart.”
    Her mouth snapped shut and she turned to face him, hands on her hips accentuating their smooth curves. Oh yeah. She was in battle mode. The last thing he needed or wanted was Callah Crenshaw in full battle mode.   He’d just keep telling himself that every time he said or did something to get her right there. Ms. Attila the Virginal Hun. One hot babe.
    “How long are we going to play this cat and mouse game, Riley? You stand over there acting all tough guy on me, and I stand over here ready to rip into you because you’re driving me crazy. Do this. Do that. Go sleep like a good little girl.”
    Whoa baby. “So what exactly are you saying here, Callah? You want to get a little closer? Play with fire? ‘Cause if that’s the case, I’m your man. I’m real good with fires.”
    “You know that’s not what I mean.” Her face took on a whole new kind of fire. A little on the prudish side. A lot on the good girl side. Patented sexy Callah Crenshaw. That look just about drove him wild.
    And even though he knew that wasn’t what she meant, he also knew they were going to be out here alone with nothing to do to pass the time. If he let her get close, no telling how much damage she’d do. He wasn’t going to let Callah break down barriers he’d spent a lifetime building.
    He stepped across the hardwood floor, crowded her on purpose, prepared to lie as if his life depended on it. She smelled like spring rain and daisies. Who the hell smelled like daisies? “No, Callah. I don’t know what you mean. Enlighten me.”
    It took everything in him not to touch her. To see if her arms were as soft as they looked. To see how quickly she’d thread her fingers through his hair and pull his mouth to hers.
    For a second she stood there, her chin set in that stubborn tilt he decided he liked. It showed the fire inside her. The princess part her asshole ex-husband hadn’t destroyed.
    Silent seconds passed as she met his gaze without blinking. Finally, she looked away, disgust crossing her face. “Fine. You want to play this game, keep up pretense, whatever. I don’t want to know the real you anyway.”
    Glory, hallelujah. “Honey, I’ve already told you. This is the real me.”
    She didn’t bother answering, just plopped down on the couch before turning to look out on the lake. Retreat. Just what he wanted. So how come he felt like he’d lost the battle?
    What was wrong with him? She got under his skin. It was the adoration he’d seen for just a moment. That look in her eyes that said he was right up there with their first grade teacher, or the preacher, or maybe even a firefighter who saved her cat when she was a kid.  
    He couldn’t stand it. Because there was no reason to look at him like that. He might have saved her from the unknown. But he was going to find the truth. He was going to dig and dig until he knew why she was in danger and who she was. And once he knew, there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after for sweet Callah Crenshaw. He was going to majorly screw with her world.  
    He didn’t want to, but the truth was the truth. And there was no way this truth was going to end in happily ever after. It was probably going to hurt like hell. And when he was done, she’d wish to God she’d never met him. But she’d be alive. Given the alternative, he’d take that every time.  

    The real him. What a joke. Callah wondered if he even knew who the real him was. He liked to pretend he was some sort of bad boy with major attitude, but this place said something different.
    Something quiet. Something real. Something more in line with a man who wrote for a living. The white whicker furniture, sparse. The wooden rocking chair looking out the window spoke of another time, another life. No plants. No decorative touches. But the view of