Her eyes slid closed. A few hours ago, she'd been so excited, ready to take a chance and start over with him. Now…

Now that was nothing but a wasted dream. She didn’t know where she was headed yet, but she knew she had to get out of San Francisco. But just the thought of leaving caused her stomach to churn, made her chest cinch down tight, and sent a pounding ache straight behind her eyes.

She dropped her head against the steering wheel and focused on breathing. In and out. One breath at a time. And for a fleeting moment, she thought about telling Mitch a half-truth. That the “they” coming after her were disgruntled past clients, set on revenge. Only… She knew she could never do that. She’d never be able to live with herself if something happened to him because of Steve’s past. And she was going to have a hard enough time keeping Shannon safe as it was.

Dammit… She’d known… She’d known not to get involved with anyone.

And damn Steve not only for dying on her, but for putting her in the middle of this nightmare to begin with.

Tears she wasn’t going to let fall—not yet—burned behind her eyes. She had to stay focused on what to do next. Only when she knew Shannon was safe...then she’d let the emotions in.

She drew in a ragged breath, lifted her head, and peered across the lawn with its big trees toward Mitch’s craftsman-style house. Lights burned in the front windows, and some kind of muffled music echoed from inside. Shannon had stayed with him while Simone had been in Washington, DC on business, and she’d known from the phone calls during the week that the two had had a ball together.

Her chest tightened even more. Someday, hopefully, she’d make him understand. But right now she just needed to make this as quick and painless as possible. The less he knew, the better off he’d be.

Like you?

She pushed the irony in that thought aside, drew in one last breath, then pushed the car door open and crossed the dimly lit street toward his front lawn. Since Mitch usually went in and out through the garage, she knew the front door was locked. Wishing it was open, she lifted her hand to knock, then waited for Shannon’s excited voice to echo through the house.

The only sound that met her ears was a very familiar string melody.

Van Morrison. He was listening to the present she'd given him for his birthday last month. He was listening to the song she’d played when she’d given him his other birthday present: her, in the little red leather number she’d promised him months ago.

“These are the Days” slowly played out behind the door, and her heart contracted as she remembered the gleam in his eyes while she’d danced seductively around her bedroom in the ridiculously tight outfit. Followed by the frantic way he’d kissed her when she’d finally gotten close enough for him to grab.

Like a man starved. Like she was his everything. Like he’d never let her go.

She closed her eyes on a wave of emotion that burned everywhere. She wasn’t going to be able to do this. She wasn’t—

The door pulled open. Startled, Simone looked up. A slow and seductive smile spread across Mitch’s rugged face, and in his eyes, a dark, rolling heat brewed. One she knew oh so well.

“Mitch—”

His arm snaked out around her waist and pulled her tight against him. And before she could catch her bearings, he slid his other hand into her hair, then lowered his mouth to hers.

Warmth. Safety. Bliss. She felt herself moving, felt him tugging her inside the house, kicking the door closed, and pressing her back against the hard wood. But all she could focus on was the way he all but devoured her whole with those sweet, tempting, masculine lips.

Desire and need—so much need—bloomed inside her. She opened on reflex, pressed her hands against his warm chest, and groaned when his tongue slid into her mouth. He tasted like wine. Like spice. Like the same damn hunger consuming her. Slowly, he changed the angle of the kiss, stroked his tongue against hers in a languid way, lifted both hands to gently cradle her face as if she were the most precious thing.

Thought fled. Reason disappeared. All she felt in the moment was wanted, desired, cherished.

He eased back slowly and stared down into her eyes. That slow, sexy, wicked smile she loved so much spread back over his lips. “Hi.”

“H-hi.”

He brushed his thumb across her oversensitized cheek. “I missed you.”

She’d missed him too. So much more than she’d realized until this very moment. She swallowed hard, unable to move, to think, to do anything but stare into his fathomless eyes. “I-I see that.”

Gently, he tipped her chin up again, kissed her lips delicately as if she were made of glass, then trailed his tantalizing mouth across her jaw to feather whisper-soft kisses against her earlobe. A shiver raced down her spine, and a moan slid from her lips before she could stop it, followed by her head tipping away, giving him more access.

“Mitch…”

The music in the overhead speakers shifted to the gentle notes of “Someone Like You.” And then they were dancing, turning an easy circle through his entryway, moving smoothly down the hardwood floor toward his great room.

Her hands inched up his chest. His mouth found hers again. He was wearing her favorite black T-shirt and the faded denim jeans he’d worn the first night they’d met, when she’d agreed to have drinks to talk about his sister. Memories spiraled in as his tongue brushed hers again, as his hips pressed against her belly, as his knee slid between her thighs.

“Mitch…”

“God, you taste good,” he murmured against her mouth, continuing to gently move her to the beat of the hypnotic music. He was so damn sexy, so hot, so hers, and the way he moved… He took her breath away. “I’ve been looking for someone exactly like you,” he whispered, echoing the song. “Just you.”

Her heart swelled, and she gave herself over to his mouth, his hands, his incredibly wicked touch. Her fingers slid into the silky soft tendrils at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so she could kiss him deeper. He answered by tightening his arms around her waist until his erection pressed into her belly.

Yes, yes, this. Just this.

She had the vague impression of candlelight, of flames flickering in the fireplace across the room, but all she could focus on was him. Only him.

The music faded way before she was ready to let it go, and as the song ended and he eased away once more, she saw the pleasure in his eyes, the happiness, and the relief. Relief that she was back and finally in his arms.

Reality spiraled in. A cold slap she wanted to ignore but couldn’t. Her hands trailed down to his biceps, and she swallowed hard, hating what she knew was coming next. After the greeting he’d just given her—after the way she’d reacted—how could she walk away from him?

“Wh-where is Shannon?” she managed, looking down at his chest so she didn’t have to see those gorgeous eyes. Eyes she knew were going to haunt her for a very long time.

“Spending the night with Julia. I want you all to myself.”

That was all she wanted too—him, all to herself. But she couldn’t have him. Not now. And oh God, Shannon wasn’t even here. Her eyes slid closed, and pain lanced through her chest.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern replacing the sexy timbre of his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Indecision roared while she fought back the tears. Maybe she should just tell him the truth. But if she did…she’d be putting him at so much risk.

“The less you know, the better off you’ll be. Trust me.”

How many times had Steve said that to her? Too many to count. She understood why he’d done that now, but it didn’t make what she had to do any easier.

Her stomach rolled, and that pain grew sharper.

Focus. Plan. Execute.

She mentally repeated the words and pushed out of his arms. Words that had gotten her through the agony of leaving her old life behind. Words that had saved her after Steve’s death. Words she would depend on now. His brow dropped when she pulled away, but she ignored it and gathered her courage, pulling up every wall he’d worn down over the last six months.

Behind him, she spotted the table set for a romantic dinner for two, and noticed, for the first time, the delicious Italian scents in the air.

He’d cooked. Shit. The man never cooked.

She quickly looked away from his manly kitchen with its black granite counter and cherry cabinets and refocused on him. Then realized he’d shaved—something else he didn’t often like to do. His wavy hair had that sexy tousled look where she’d run her fingers through it, and he was barefoot.

Her walls started to crumble. Why the hell were his feet so damn sexy?

Focus. Plan. Execute.

Right. She could do that. She straightened.

“Simone?” He reached for her hand, but she took a step back so he couldn’t touch her. If he touched her, like he’d done at the door, she’d never get through this. And she had to get it done and over with so she could get to Shannon.

“I’m leaving, Mitch.”

“What? You just got here.”

“I don’t just mean right now. I mean…I’m leaving San Francisco.”

Panic filled his eyes. Panic that was going to wear her down if she didn’t get out of fast.

“My dad isn’t doing well,” she lied. “Shannon and I are moving back to Connecticut.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

Okay? Her own panic slithered in.

He raked a hand through his hair, sending his already disheveled locks sticking out all over, and looked down at the floor. She could practically see the gears working in his brain, trying to figure out how they were going to make this work on opposite coasts.