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drowned in the river, if I remember—Hello?”
    Lauren had answered.
    “It’s me,” he said.
    There was a long pause, then, “How did you get this number?”
    “I’m familiar with some good, old-fashioned torture techniques. After a few minutes with me your friends and neighbors were more than willing to talk.”
    “I can relate to the desperation they must’ve felt to escape from you. What do you want?”
    “I want to talk, just like we were going to do last night.”
    “Before you robbed a liquor store or whatever you did that got you arrested?”
    Robbed a liquor store? This woman had a very vivid imagination. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t anything that dramatic.” He was tempted to explain just how undramatic it was, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t about to grovel at Lauren Worthington’s feet, hoping for her approval.
    “I understand,” she said. “When something happensa lot it becomes common, everyday. The excitement factor goes down, is that it?”
    He remembered saying something to her about the excitement factor in her life and realized she was throwing his words back at him, but he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “As far as I’m concerned, our business together is a completely unrelated issue.”
    “I’m afraid I disagree. Your background and character are an important part of the issue, but then, I have a nine-year-old boy to consider.”
    “You have my nine-year-old boy.”
    Silence.
    “Meet me,” he said, softening his voice in hopes that he could still gain her cooperation. Before he decided anything, he wanted to see Brandon, talk to him. Was that so much to ask?
    “No.”
    He held back a frustrated sigh. “Then I’ll come over there.”
    “It won’t do you any good. You won’t be able to get in. We have security.”
    “The kind of security I passed with a wave and a smile when I came to the house yesterday?”
    “They’re more diligent at night,” she said. “They won’t let you through the gate this time.”
    Especially after she called and told them not to. “Then I’ll hop the fence.”
    “You’ll be arrested. Again. And this time they’d probably keep you. Stalking a woman is a lot more serious than an unpaid speeding ticket.”
    So she’d been playing him. She already knew why he was arrested. “I thought I robbed a liquor store. I’m such a bad guy it’s hard to keep up with all my offenses, huh?”
    “You’re probably working your way up.”
    “Yeah, I’ve heard most armed robberies start with unpaid speeding tickets. It’s a definite sign of trouble.”
    “I’ve already seen enough signs to know you’re trouble, Harley,” she said, but her voice didn’t hold the same bitterness it had when he’d spoken to her at the door. She’d also used his name for the first time. Somehow that encouraged him, made him feel as though she was finally starting to see him as a person instead of the devil incarnate.
    “You don’t know anything about me,” he pointed out. “Not really. The only thing you have is your father’s word.”
    “And my sister’s experience. Taken together, that’s a pretty strong argument.”
    “Haven’t you ever fallen in love, Lauren?” he asked, dropping the sarcasm and defensiveness and stripping it down to a simple, sincere question.
    She didn’t answer, and for a fleeting moment he found himself wishing she would. Hadn’t she ever fallen in love? Didn’t she know what it was like to feel so passionately about someone that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? That you wouldn’t—couldn’t—heed an outside threat to stay away because it was like being asked to stop breathing? If not, she’d never understand, and he’d be wasting his time if he tried to explain it to her. Love wasn’t something that made logical sense.
    “Come on,” he said. “I’m only asking for a few minutes. How can you tell a man who’s never seen his son that you won’t even entertain