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that she was what he believed her to be.
    Following her directions, he drove to a serene little park, where they spread a blanket beneath an oak tree and enjoyed the lunch his hotel’s chef had provided.
    Josh couldn’t take his eyes off her, and struggled to maintain the certainty he’d felt earlier. She was dressed in jeans and a sleeveless sweater, her glorious hair unbound and shining; her striking face was free of makeup and needed none.
    Solicitation for the purposes of prostitution …
    “Your apartment manager said she didn’t know you,” he said abruptly, looking down at the blade of grass he was twisting between his fingers.
    Raven smiled easily. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. Liz is very protective. Some nut followed me home a few times, then tried to find out from Liz which apartment I lived in. She called the police, and they advised her to deny that any single woman lived in the building.”
    “I see.” It was, he thought, plausible.
    “It backfired once,” Raven added. “There’s another single woman who lives upstairs, and when a rejected boyfriend came calling, Liz told him the place had been sublet. What she didn’t know was that, to put it mildly, the guy was on the shady side. He broke in one night andgrabbed everything he could carry—and he honestly didn’t know it was his former girlfriend he was ripping off.”
    She studied Josh, wondering what was different about him. He looked leaner, she thought, and somewhat preoccupied; there was an almost imperceptible distance in his manner, a guarded distance. With an unexpected twinge of pain, she realized that his intent though cheerful pursuit of her apparently had burned itself out within these last days.
    Telling herself that was for the best did absolutely nothing to ease her depression.
    “Are you subletting?” he asked in an idle tone. “Or just staying in the apartment while your friends are gone?”
    “Just staying there.” She forced a smile. “How about you? About ready to leave L.A. and go take care of the kingdom?”
    Josh’s face was oddly still when he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and his smile seemed not to touch unreadable blue eyes. “No, I’m stayinghere for a while. I have to find out if my … my Waterloo will break me in the end.”
    Raven felt her heart lurch, but told herself that he couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did. “Cryptic comments over the potato salad,” she said lightly, gesturing toward the repacked wicker basket on the corner of the blanket.
    “Was I cryptic? Sorry.” This time the smile did touch his eyes. “Just thinking of that old saying that every man meets his Waterloo sooner or later. I met mine the other night in the hallway of a hotel.”
    He
did
mean … Raven cleared her throat. “Josh—”
    “You said you didn’t have a lover.”
    She couldn’t look away from those intent, searching eyes. “No. But I’m involved in business right now. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
    “Make time.”
    It was hardly an imperious demand, she reflected. It was something else. Something urgent and with a curious undertone of entreaty. Deepwithin her, she felt guarded walls begin to waver, and hastily shored them up again. It was
dangerous—
too dangerous—to get involved with him. There were too many problems.
    “You’re about to say no.” Josh moved suddenly, stretching out beside her where she lay on her side, guiding her gently until she lay on her back. “Don’t say no.”
    He kissed her before she could speak, trying not to show her the desperation he felt, trying not to reveal the tangled threads of doubt and certainty, love and fear, belief and disbelief. And when her mouth warmed beneath his, responding instantly to him, he tried to forget everything but her … the touch of her … the taste of her.…
    “Josh.” It wasn’t protest or invitation; it was simply the heart’s driven instinct to say aloud a name that meant too much to say silently.