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brazen it out, my voice eminently more confident than my insides.
    He takes the keys, pausing to give me a thoughtful look and, if I’m not mistaken, lingering overlong as our fingers brush during the transaction. I want to moan but bite my lip to stop myself.
    His eyes are filled with heat again, even as they assess me with somewhat wary trepidation. “You don’t have much fear, do you?”
    I shrug, walking to the passenger side and getting in, playing my bravado for all it’s worth. “Maybe I’m just blissfully naive.” I’m happy to hear him chuckling again. I’m sure he’ll figure out what I fear soon enough.
     

Chapter Four
     
     
    It’s not a long drive back to his house, seeing as he lives only a mile west. We pull up to another big old farmhouse, also in somewhat of a state of disrepair. The barn out back is barely standing. “In need of a paint job, eh?” I immediately realize that probably isn’t the best thing to say to a person I just met.
    In response he growls softly. “I just moved in.”
    Ah, so “new neighbors” was him moving in, not the assholes down the street. “Sorry. My filter doesn’t always work.” I try to put my smile into my voice since he is still busy parking and it’s fairly dark in the car. Since I got myself into this particular venture against my better judgment, I might as well make the best of it. Naomi would say it has to be fate that we met again.
    When he finally puts the car in park and switches off the engine, he turns to me and hands me my keys. “Yes, I am seeing that.” He says it with a completely straight face, so I’m not sure if he is teasing or simply stating a fact. Maybe both.
    I hope he’s not derisive. The utterly insane part of me that agreed to come to a strange man’s home really wants this guy to like me.
    I take the keys and he exits the car with exquisite grace, and again I wonder how he moves so catlike. And he has a really fine ass. Sigh.
    He turns and looks at me questioningly. “Are you coming?”
    I realize I’m still sitting in the car and staring at him. I swear he looks a little smug standing there all handsome and bathed in moonlight. Is he glad I’m staring at him? And if he is, what is my face expressing? Shit .
    I shake my head a bit and then get out of the car. “I’m coming. Just surveying my environs.”
    “Hmm, yes, I’m sure you are.” He is still straight-faced but now I’m positive he’s teasing me.
    I feel myself start to blush again . Damn capillaries. Good thing it’s night.
    He is watching me so intently as I get out of the car that I feel like he’s seeing me more clearly than the moonlight should allow. He gestures toward the front door. “Shall we go in?”
    I nod and follow him up the walkway onto the wraparound porch and then through the front door. The house is sparsely furnished and almost entirely undecorated. We walk into a living area where the moonlight allows me to see the outline of a couch flanked by small end tables, a lamp on each one. “Very minimalist, I see.” Again the ever-tactful houseguest. My capillaries kick into high gear again.
    He doesn’t even look at me but continues to the nearest lamp and switches it on. “Yes. I don’t see the need for much in the way of creature comforts. You can take a seat if you’d like. Do you want something to drink?”
    “What do you have?” I sink onto the basic brown sofa. There’s a matching brown rug on the floor in front of a fireplace. No TV, no radio.
    “Well, in that I’m not minimalist. Do you prefer wine or something stronger?”
    I look up at his beautiful face, now cast in the lamplight, and wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. Definitely, I need something stronger. “Do you have scotch?”
    He looks pleased with my request. “Of course. I am a MacKay.” He pauses, eyeing me shrewdly. “You seem like a Dalwhinnie girl.”
    I narrow my eyes . How did he know that? Was he lying when he said he couldn’t read my thoughts?