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should have done. John Dietz had never operated by the clock and had never been keen on commitment or asking forgiveness. Probably had to do with being on his own so young. But Keely didn't seem to be expecting an apology, so he didn't offer one.
    "How was the meeting?"
    "The meeting?"
    "After I left."
    She was cool.
    "Productive." Dietz dropped into the chair. It felt good to sit, but disconcerting to be stared at so obviously. What was the woman looking for? Worse still, he had a hard time focusing on her face. His gaze kept drifting to the well-formed nipples poking through the thin cotton of her wrapper. Damn whiskey. It always made him amorous.
    Maybe it had been too long since he'd been with a woman. It sure had been too long since he'd been with a good woman, if, indeed, he ever had. But he couldn't fool himself. Keely Byrne was attractive. He'd always been partial to dark, auburn hair and green eyes—and curves.
    "Productive," Keely repeated. "You'll have to be more specific. Does the scab live?"
    Dietz nodded, too tired and too drunk to keep up pretenses with Keely. If anyone would find him out, she would. "But we sent a message to the owners. One they can't well ignore."
    Keely nodded, looking hesitant. "I'm sorry. I owe you an apology. I should have trusted you—"
    "Damn right, lass."
    "But I didn't know if you were still back in Burke or not." She hardly looked contrite.
    "You could have gotten yourself run out of town." Maybe it was only the drink, but the conversation made little sense to Dietz. She apologized when he should have?
    She smiled and shrugged. "Wouldn't have happened. You would have protected me."
    "You have great faith in my abilities, especially considering you didn't think I'd be there."
    "Lunn wouldn't let them harm me either."
    Damn that Lunn. Dietz needed to shift topics.
    "Why aren't you mad at me?" Damn, that was Dietz talking, not McCullough. What did it matter anyway, other than it was blasted odd? Even the whores he kept company with on other missions got possessive. And this woman had every right to be, but wasn't. He was supposed to be her fiancé, and he sure hadn't acted like it. He'd have to remedy that before she got suspicious. He hadn't brought her a present or anything. He tried to think, but the whiskey fog blocked him. Did McCullough have a present for her among his things? Women liked gifts.
    "Mad at you for what? For being late? For being drunk? Why should I be? You saved the scab and still managed to make a point to the owners. What is a little drunkenness compared to that? You like your drink, like Michael did. I wouldn't have expected different. Besides, once we met Mr. Allison, I knew you wouldn't be coming back for supper. And after the incident by the tavern, I realized you might not come back till dawn. I never made that special pie. I'll make it tomorrow."
    What kind of a life had Keely led? How had Michael schooled her to be so blasted tolerant? He resisted the urge to shake his head. Keely stared at him intently. "I'm glad you're not mad, but what in the devil are you staring at?"
    "You." She smiled, looking almost shy for the first time.
    "Me?"
    "You don't look exactly like you described yourself."
    Dietz's heart thudded, pounding so loud it hurt his head. If she decided he wasn't McCullough after all...  
    He forced a lopsided grin. "How so?"
    "Your eyes." Her voice grew soft. "They're not plain old blue, like you said. They're, well, they're nearly violet." Her voice became breathy, too alluring. "Ian McCullough, you're so beautiful, you're nearly perfection." Her gaze fell from his face.
    What the hell? No woman had ever spoken of him so tenderly before. He was oddly moved, and damned uncomfortable. Coming on top of all that had happened today, he didn't like it one bit.
    She stood. "Let me make you some coffee. Michael always liked to chat over a cup of coffee when he got back from a meeting." Her words were simple enough, but she sounded almost forlorn, a