"He worked all night," Haley said quickly, coming to Cam's defense without thinking. "He's exhausted."

Zach flashed her that Reeves grin, mixed with startled wonder. "I know that, Haley."

"You- Oh." Embarrassed and flustered by Zach's curious gaze, she looked away. "I just thought… Actually, I don't know what I thought."

"You were defending him to me." Zach laughed. "Oh, man. You've got it bad. Don't worry. I'm told we're pretty irresistible, but it'll pass soon enough."

Haley managed to roll her eyes and laugh it off, but his comment stuck long after he'd filled a plate and left. Did she have it bad? She sure didn't want to. She thought of little else as she prepared a plateful of chicken and struck out for the yard, some half-baked idea in her head that she could take out these feelings on the person who'd caused them-Cameron Reeves.

Dusk settled quickly in the mountains. Locked into that short, glorious period between day and night, long shadows fell over the grass as she walked. She wouldn't mind the dark, which would hit at any moment. She'd discovered she liked the nights here, once she'd gotten past the fear of what she couldn't see. Colorado nights were like none other on earth. The smooth black sky flowed with stars so bright and clear they looked like scattered diamonds on black velvet.

But she wasn't outside now to enjoy the sights.

Miffed at herself, and thoroughly prepared to share it, she stopped before the hammock and cleared her throat. Cam didn't budge. None too gently, she set the plate on his stomach, watching with amusement as he started, then lifted the hat from this far-too-alert eyes.

"You weren't sleeping," she accused.

"Nope. Just thinking." He picked up the plate and smiled as he carefully sat up. "Thanks. I'm starving."

"Really," she said dryly. When wasn't he? The man ate constantly, as did his brothers. She could only imagine their food bill.

"You served me." He grinned. "I think you're falling for me."

"Don't bet on it." She watched this teeth sink into the chicken, trying to remember when she last ate. His cheek muscles bunched as he chewed, and he sighed in pleasure, going for more. Her mouth watered hungrily and she suddenly wished she'd brought two plates.

He must have read her mind, because he scooted over. "Come on, share mine."

She eyed the narrow hammock. "I couldn't."

"Sure, you can. You just open your mouth and chew."

"No," she said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, I couldn't. I couldn't possibly fit in there with you."

Almost before she'd finished the sentence, he'd lifted the plate in one hand and scooped his other around her waist, heaving her up and in with him. For one horrifying second, the cotton hammock shifted wildly from side to side and Haley thought they were going down. She screeched and clutched at Cam, who just laughed.

"Have more faith, darlin'. I'm a hungry man. Do you think I'd dump my plate?" He lifted a piece of wonderful-smelling chicken to her mouth. "Eat," he commanded.

She shook her head, and she was so close to him that even that small movement had her hair flying in his face. They were touching everywhere; shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. It seemed incredibly intimate-certainly more than she'd bargained for when she'd brought him the plate of food.

And since when, she thought helplessly, had she been so constantly aware of another body like she was his? She saw everything: the way his shirtsleeves had been rolled back, revealing strong, tanned forearms, how his soft, faded jeans molded his long legs.

"Eat," he repeated, gently touching the chicken to her lips.

How could she when she could hardly breathe? But somehow, she managed to take a bite. He watched her mouth intently as she chewed and when she swallowed, his lips curved. "You're a sight, Haley Williams."

She felt a pang as she heard the false name on his lips. Another lie for the man who hated them. But it had to be that way. "I'm sure I am. I'm wearing clothes that don't fit me, my hair smells like the lemon I accidentally squirted all over myself while making iced tea, and I've got circles under my eyes." She gave him a look daring him to defy her description.

"You're beautiful."

Her heart somersaulted crazily. "I wasn't fishing for compliments."

"And compassionate. You have a sense of humor, too, though it's got a wicked streak-"

"No. Don't." She struggled to get out.

Without warning, and very quickly for a man who claimed he liked to move slowly, he cupped her head, pulled her toward him and nibbled at her lips. "Mmm, you're wearing that lip gloss. Tastes like strawberries."

She pushed back, bracing against his chest, and tried not to spill the plate. "Don't do that. You said you were walking away from me, remember?"

"Yes, but you came to me. I can't resist that, I'm afraid."

Good Lord, he was something, all rugged man and sweet smile. "You'll make me forget I'm mad at you."

"That was the idea… but okay," he said agreeably, settling back. "Then just eat."

"You keep pushing me to eat. You sound like a mom." But she took the bite he'd put to her mouth.

"A mom? Not your Mom?"

She stilled, the chicken a solid, unswallowable lump in her throat. His gaze searched her features and something he must have read there made him take pity.

"Take my mom, for instance," he said easily into the awkward silence. "She didn't have to nag us boys to eat. We ate her out of house and home."

"Mine didn't have that problem," Haley said carefully, pushing away the next bite. She'd lost her appetite. "And you're changing the subject. We were discussing my being mad at you."

He crunched into the corn on the cob, licked the butter off his wet lips and smiled innocently. "What does your mother think of your eating habits now?"

Her mother could care less, but because that hurt to admit, she forced a smile. "Wouldn't you rather know why I'm mad at you?"

"Oh, I already know that. I'd rather know why you won't talk about yourself."

"You're impossible." She sat up, determined to wriggle her way out of the hammock, but once again, she'd underestimated him. With one fluid move, he'd gotten rid of the plate and had her stretched out, flat beneath him. They rocked gently from the movement, every inch of her body touching every inch of his. There was something incredibly erotic about the motion.

"So you don't want to talk about yourself." He played with her hair and smiled into her stormy, furious eyes. "We can do something else. Anything. You pick, darlin'."

"I don't think so. You're crowding me, Cameron."

"Ah, we're back to formalities." He cupped her face, wishing those eyes didn't hold so many secrets, wishing she didn't resist him so. He didn't like how pale she seemed, how fragile she felt under him. Or how weary she looked. "Is your stomach better?"

"There's nothing wrong with my stomach."

Every muscle tightened. "I thought you said you weren't a liar."

She pushed at him, stiff with anger, embarrassment, and who knew what else. "Move. Just move."

Frustration purled from deep within, and for once, he couldn't find his patience, his gentleness, his innate kindness. "Damn it, Haley. How can you let yourself go like this?" He gripped her shoulders tightly. "You shudder in fear when you think no one is watching and you jump if someone so much as walks up behind you. I know you're frightened and you won't let me help. Now, I've agreed not to push, even though you admit you're on the run, but you've been clutching at your stomach like you're going to die. I can't just stand by while you're in pain. Don't ask me to."

Since he still lay over her, he was well aware of the fact that she'd gone rigid with tension. Her eyes closed, and she inhaled deeply. He felt her slowly relax, then her eyes opened on his. "I'm sorry. I've not been very fair, have I?"

He shook his head, waiting. The day had fully disappeared into night, but he had no trouble reading the misgivings in her expression. "Do you need a doctor for the ulcer?"

"No, it's better." Her smile seemed bright-too bright, as if, once again, she associated her pain with weakness. "Much better."

He just looked at her.

"It is," she insisted. "I haven't had any trouble in days. You set your food down. I thought you were hungry."

"Now who's changing the subject?" He kissed her once because he couldn't help himself, then because she seemed so uncomfortable with him plastered to her, he sat and pulled her up next to him. Immediately he felt the loss of her soft, warm body. "Now tell me why you're mad at me."

She crossed her arms and gave him that sassy look he was so fond of. "I thought you said you already knew."

"I do. I just want to hear you admit it." Idly, he pushed his foot to the ground and set them into a gentle rocking motion. He tugged her hair. "I want to hear you admit you're mad because you can't stop thinking about me."

She sputtered with that, then finally tipped her head back and laughed. "You're something."

"I thought I was impossible."

"That, too." She tilted her head and studied him. "I've never known anyone like you, Cameron Reeves."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

Her smile had a touch of wistfulness in it. "It's not. Your ego's big enough without my help."

"A little confidence never hurt anyone."

She shook her head. "You've got more than a little confidence. All of you Reeveses do."

"And that's a bad thing?"

She looked at him and inhaled deeply. "No, actually. I find yours unsettlingly comforting sometimes."

He gave her a quick squeeze, touched. But she stiffened on him.