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do both.
    Joe appeared in the front door and nodded. That was all Z needed to usher her into the house, his hand brushing the small of her back. She shot him a dark look that he returned with interest, reminding her again that this wasn’t a man she could intimidate or manipulate.
    That was fine. She liked a challenge. The only question was what outcome she wanted—for him to stay away from her, or lose control like he had earlier? Sara sighed. She’d figure it out later. Right now she wanted a bed and eight hours of sleep. Things would look different in the morning—less confusing, less dangerous.
    Tomorrow, she’d get her photo album back and come up with some sort of plan.
    “Where’s my room?” She eyeballed the massive foyer. Had Uncle Rodger rented her a damn B and B? In the driveway, she’d been paying more attention to Z than the house, but being inside it made her think she’d missed a whole hell of a lot. The curving staircase led upward, looking like something Scarlett O’Hara would be comfortable on, and she could see a sitting room through one of the arched openings on the ground floor.
    “Pick one in the west wing.”
    Apparently her uncle felt horrible about exiling her, because there was no other explanation for this place. She’d fully expected to be dropped off at some little one-room cabin with no Internet or hot water, and instead she got a house with wings. “I’m not exactly a Boy Scout, so am I going left or right at the top of the stairs?”
    She thought she heard Z sigh. “Left.”
    “Great. Thanks.” She forced herself to climb the stairs slowly instead of taking them two at a time, because she didn’t want him to think she was running from him—even if that’s exactly what it felt like. It was only when she was out of sight that she released the pent up breath she’d been holding. Four hours down. God knows how many to go . At least in a house this size, she could avoid him, if she ended up deciding that was what she wanted.
    Sara peeked into rooms as she passed, each seeming to be their own suite, and finally settled on one halfway down the hall. It was green and generic enough to be for either a man or a woman, but what drew her were the huge windows dominating the wall across from the door. She flipped on the light and crossed to look out, and laughed.
    “Yeah, Uncle Rodger is definitely trying to apologize.” The house was U-shaped, and in the empty space between the wings, there was a pool encased in a glass greenhouse looking building. She loved swimming—had since she was a kid—and she’d just been bitching to him a few weeks ago about how all the hours she was putting in were making it impossible to make time for her laps. She grinned. Guess he’d been listening.
    A light came on almost directly across from her, and her grin widened as she saw Z prowling around the room. He stopped in the window, and she could almost feel his glare as he faced her. Sara shook her head and closed the curtains. Let him stew a bit longer.
    She stopped in front of the bed. She was exhausted, but the siren call of the pool was too much to resist. “A few laps and then I’ll be tired enough to sleep.” Simple. Right.
    As if anything in her life was simple anymore.
    …
    Z’s phone rang while he was still glaring at the closed curtains of Sara’s room. She’d shut him out, which was no more than he deserved. But he resented the barrier between them all the same. With a curse, he answered his phone. “Loreto.”
    “Z?”
    His entire body jumped to attention at Sara’s husky voice on the other end. “Yeah.”
    “I have a question.”
    He primed himself to tell her that no, they couldn’t fuck until they forgot both their names, because it was a shitty idea—and out of respect for her brother. He was so focused on composing his answer, he missed the question. “Say again?”
    “That Joe guy. Where is he now?”
    “Watching the road. My other guy, Logan, is covering the back