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    candles on the table beneath the grape arbor. On a chair, she set an old cricket bat Yia Yia used to beat rugs.
    She hoped she wouldn’t need it to defend herself, but her work at the Bureau had taught her that looks could
    be deceiving. She’d been surprised the first time she met Otis Crump by how harmless and ordinary he
    appeared. Underneath the pleasant exterior lurked a monster who had raped, tortured, and murdered thirteen
    women.
    She shoved him out of her thoughts. This was her time to recover and heal. He had been an assignment,
    nothing more, and she was done with it. Done with him.
    She could only pray that he was done with her.
    She strode back into the house to make a cup of hot tea. As she exited the kitchen, she grabbed the rose and
    took it with her. Back in the courtyard, she waited. And waited. She finished her tea and left the cup on the table.
    Back at the wall, she smoothed her fingers over the velvet rose petals. The thorns had been pinched off the
    stem, so her secret admirer appeared to be considerate. She hoped he was the mysterious jogger. But where
    was he?
    Maybe she was too early. Or maybe he had left the island and this rose was his way of saying good-bye. After
    all, the last week of November was way past the tourist season. Or maybe she’d imagined him. After dealing
    with the ultimate dregs of humanity in the person of Otis Crump, her subconscious could be trying to
    compensate by manufacturing a handsome, honorable hero.
    She sighed. Too many years of psychology classes had left her with a tendency to overanalyze everything.
    She just needed to relax and smell the roses. Or one rose in particular. She lifted it to her nose and smiled.
    Her attention snapped to a figure coming from the south. She looked through the telescope, and her heart
    lurched in her chest. It was him! He was real.
    He wasn’t jogging tonight. Instead, he walked toward her with a quick determined stride. He lifted a hand in
    greeting, and her heart did another flip. Through the telescope, she could tell he was focused entirely on her. He
    certainly had good eyesight.
    She stepped toward the wall and waved a hand to acknowledge his greeting. He immediately broke into a
    jog, and her heart pounded with each step that brought him closer. His eyes never seemed to leave her. He was
    checking her out, and that brought heat to her cheeks. Was he excited and attracted? Or was he already
    regretting his actions? She opened her senses to detect his feelings.
    Nothing. In all her twenty-four years, she’d never met a person she couldn’t read. She closed her eyes and
    furrowed her brow with concentration.
    Nothing.
    She opened her eyes to make sure he was real. Yep, he was almost in front of her. Why couldn’t she sense
    him? She always knew how people felt. She always knew when they were lying.
    Good God, this was awful. How would she know where she stood with this man? How could she trust
    anything he said? A spurt of panic flashed through her, and she considered escaping into the house.
    But then she saw his face. He had stopped on the beach below her, and he was gazing up at her with an
    intense, searching look as if he didn’t know what to think. Well, that made two of them.
    She met his gaze, and an instant wave of desire flooded through her. It caught her by surprise, nearly
    buckling her knees. Whoa. She gripped the edge of the wall to steady herself. She didn’t usually react like that.
    Actually, she wasn’t sure how she usually reacted. She’d always concentrated on other people’s feelings so
    she would know how to deal with them.
    This was a first for her. She was in the company of another person, but alone with her own feelings. And
    she’d never realized her feelings could be so…strong. Maybe they just seemed that way because they were
    isolated. Or because this situation was new to her.
    Or maybe he was the cause.
    She swallowed hard. She’d have to be careful. She had no idea what he was feeling.