His quiet laughter filled the space between them as Baby yapped and licked Max’s chin. “Hey, now, mutt,” he said, and once again held Baby up and away from his face. “Settle down before you have an accident.”

“He’s just excited to see you.”

Max set the dog on the porch, then slowly rose to his full height. He looked down at her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “And what about you, Lolita? Are you excited to see me?”

The sound of her name on his lips cut through her like sunshine on a foggy day, but she didn’t know if she’d go so far as to say she was excited. She was too upset with him to be excited. She tilted her head and drawled, “I’m likely to go mad and bite myself.”

“Can’t have that,” he said through a smile. “Maybe you should invite me inside, just so I can make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

Well, since he was here anyway. She took a step back. “Come on in.” As she moved to the kitchen, she heard him shut the front door and follow. Baby raced ahead to his dinner, and Lola took a bottle of red wine from one of the grocery bags she’d set on the counter.

“I saw you on television Wednesday,” Max told her as he entered the kitchen.

She shook her head and reached for two glasses. “I looked horrible.”

“You could never look horrible.”

He was being kind and they both knew it, but when she glanced up at him, he looked serious. He’d taken off his sunglasses and those gorgeous blue eyes of his looked back at her as if he meant every word. “Wine?”

“No, thank you.”

“That’s right. You’re a beer drinker.”

“Yes, like your daddy’s branch-water cousins.” He handed her the thin box he held in his hand. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me, so I thought I might have to bribe you with this.”

She took the present and shook it. “Why would you have to bribe me?”

“After everything, I didn’t know if you’d be out for my blood.”

She tore away the paper and ribbon and couldn’t help her smile. A ridiculous little glow lit up her chest and went a long way to cool her anger. Unlike gifts from other men in her past, it wasn’t expensive or lavish. “Thank you,” she said. “No man has ever given me a toothbrush before.”

“It’s an Oral-B, just like your old one.”

“Yes, I see that.”

“I figured I owed you.”

“Yes, you do. I’ll cherish it always.” She set the toothbrush next to the groceries on the counter, then pulled a Waterford vase from the glass-fronted cupboard. “You know, I probably shouldn’t want to see you,” she said as she filled the vase with water. “But Baby and I still suffer the lingering effects of Stockholm syndrome.”

“Stockholm syndrome? Don’t you have to be kidnapped to suffer from Stockholm syndrome?”

She turned off the water and looked over at him, at the light from the ceiling shining in his hair. At him standing in her kitchen filling up her senses with the sight of him and the barely detectable scent of his cologne. She’d been wrong about the bruises. Blue still smudged one corner of his eye. “Are we going to debate that again?”

Max shook his head and leaned a shoulder into the refrigerator. “So, how long do you and your dog think you’ll be suffering?”

She placed the vase on the counter, then began to arrange the flowers she’d bought at the market. It was so strange having him here, in her condo, talking to her in her own kitchen instead of the galley of the Dora Mae. Yet at the same time, it didn’t feel strange at all. As if she’d known him all of her life. Further proof that maybe she really was going crazy. “I can’t speak for Baby, and I’m not sure about myself.”

“Through dinner?”

She looked up from a peach tulip. “Are you buying?”

“Of course. I thought we’d grab a steak and talk about your plans to get your naked photos off the Internet.”

She’d already put her new plan into motion. “I called a private detective, and I meet with him Monday.”

“Hire me instead.”

He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d told her she should hire him to fly her to the moon. “Are you offering to help me?”

“Yes.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure.”

If there was anyone who could shut down Sam’s site and get those photographs back, she was sure it was Max. Mad Max. The man who ate cobras and rescued drowning dogs. Saved her from drug runners and blew up yachts. Max the hero. She felt her burden lighten and an accompanying little tug at her heart. “How much?”

“For you, I’ll work extremely cheap.”

“How cheap?”

“We’ll talk about it over dinner.” He took the tulip from her, touched the end of her nose with the soft petals, then stuck it in the vase. “I’m starving and I think better after I eat.”

One of last things Lola felt like doing was putting her shoes back on. “I really don’t feel like going out, but I’ll let you cook me dinner here.”

He hooked the top of the sack with his finger and looked inside. “What ya got in there?”

“A few vegetables. Milk, chicken, hamburger, and some other stuff.”

“A king-sized Snickers,” he said as he pulled out the candy bar.

“Of course.”

He dropped it back into the sack. “Do you have rice to go with that chicken?”

She pointed to a cupboard above her. The bottom shelf was filled with food staples, the top two shelves with some of the foreign cookbooks she never used. “Up there.”

Max moved behind her and reached over her head, his chest brushing her back as he opened the cupboard and pulled out a bright red box. The touch was nothing, just a slight brushing of fabric, but it sent goose bumps up her back.

“Minute Rice?” he said just above the top of her head. “I can’t make arroz con polio with Minute Rice.”

Lola placed her hands flat on the counter. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to lean back into the solid comfort of his chest. To have him wrap his arms around her and melt into him. To close her eyes and let him take her mind off everything. To once again feel the warmth and strength of being with him.

“What’s arroz con pollo?” she asked.

“Chicken, rice, spices, a little tomato sauce, a little beer and peppers.”

Before she could give in to the urge, he put the box back in the cupboard and moved to the end of the counter, putting distance between them. It felt to Lola as if he were trying to put more than physical distance between them. It was as if he were purposely keeping a professional arm’s length, and she got that strange feeling again. The feeling of being suspended in air and waiting. “Can you barbeque?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He took a package of chicken out of the grocery bag. “Lola?”

She frowned and stuck a rose in the vase. “Yes?”

“You never really answered my question.”

She thought she’d answered them all and looked up. “Which one?”

“How are you doing?” His gaze poured over her face and hair. “Really?”

“I’m okay.” She turned her attention back to the flowers and selected a beautiful closed tulip. “Everything is a bit weird, but I’ll get back into the swing of things. It was just my first day back to the office, so I wasn’t-”

“I’m not asking about your work.” He placed his fingers beneath her chin and brought her gaze back to his. “I’m asking about you.”

His light touch raised the hair at the back of her skull and little tingles tickled the hollow of her throat. She set the tulip down on the counter and looked into his familiar blue eyes. Into the face of the only person who might understand-even what she herself did not understand.

“I don’t know how to feel. I know that I’m supposed to be glad I’m home, and I am glad. But at the same time, I feel like something has changed and I don’t know what it is. My house, my job, my life, all look the same, but they… I don’t know. It all feels different. Disorienting. Weird.”

His brows lowered, he dipped his head a little, and peered into her eyes. “Are you having any sort of flashbacks or difficultly sleeping?”

“No.”

“Any bad dreams?”

“I dreamed I couldn’t get Baby out of the animal shelter.”

“Hmm. How about dreams of death or dying?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Jumpy?”

“No.”

“Afraid?”

“Not since I’ve been back.” She shrugged. “I’m just having trouble concentrating.”

He placed both his hands on the tops of her bare arms. “It sounds like you might be a little shell-shocked. It’s not uncommon with people who have gone through something traumatic. Maybe you should see somebody.”

“A psychiatrist?”

“Yeah.”

No, she didn’t want to talk to a doctor. She’d been through therapy before. Several years of it, and it had helped her then, but this didn’t feel like anything she needed a professional to help her through. She only wanted to talk to Max. Just the touch of his warm palms on her arms made her feel better. Just as it had the night of the storm and the night they’d made love.

“Have you ever seen a psychiatrist?” He laughed. “No, I’m afraid of what he’d find.”

“Like maybe you’re as crazy as a bullbat?”

“Definitely.” He slid his hands down her arms to her elbows, and again she had to fight the urge to lean into him. “Have you been eating?”

She’d been having a bit of trouble with that. She’d been having to remind herself to eat, but she’d been there before and knew the routine. It was nothing she couldn’t handle. Nothing she couldn’t conquer, and nothing she wanted to talk about. “Why all the questions?”

“I need to know you’re okay.” He dropped his hands to his sides, taking the warmth of his touch with him. “In my life, I’ve done some things I’m not especially proud of, but I’ve never screwed up the life of an innocent woman. I did that with you, and I’m sorry.” He looked into her eyes as if he could read her mind. “I want to make sure you’re going to be all right, and I want to help you get those photographs off the Internet. I owe you that much.”