She drew a frustrated sigh as the words on the screen blurred in front of her. Unless she wanted to sell the article to a tabloid, she was going to have to nix that train of thought.

Someone tapped lightly on her front door.

The sigh turned into a frown. It was Sunday night, and the two young women staying next door had invited her over for drinks. The two had seemed very friendly, but Melissa had begged off. Between her ranch chores and allowing for time to fly back to Chicago, she only had two more evenings to pull the article together. There wasn’t any time for socializing.

The knock came again.

With the light on, there was no sense in pretending she was asleep. Besides, they would have seen her through the window on their way up the stairs.

She pushed back from the table and crossed to the door.

“I’m sorry,” she began as she tugged it open. “But I really can’t-”

“Sorry to bother you,” came Jared’s voice.

His broad shoulders filled the doorway. His head was bare, and he still wore his business suit from the cemetery visit earlier. He wore a crisp, white shirt and a dark, red-striped tie. There was a frown on his face and worry in his eyes. “Jared.”

“I was out walking and I saw your light,” he apologized.

Even if she had been inclined to give up a chance to get more information, his expression would have melted the hardest heart. She knew he’d been up to the cemetery with his sister and brother this afternoon, and it had obviously been tough.

“How did it go?” she asked, stepping back to invite him in.

He shrugged as he walked inside. “About how I’d expected.” His voice was hollow. “We all miss Gramps.”

Melissa nodded, closing the door behind him. “This is probably the worst year,” she ventured.

“I suppose.” His gaze focused on something, and she realized he was staring at her laptop. “You travel with a computer?”

Panic spurred her forward. She closed the lid, hoping she’d saved recently. “It’s compact,” she answered. “Very light.”

“I guess. Did I interrupt-” he paused “-work?”

“I’m writing a letter,” she quickly improvised. “Can I offer you something? Coffee?” She gestured to the small living-room grouping, taking his attention away from the table and her computer. “Or there’s a bottle of wine…”

“I’m fine.” He eased down into the worn arm chair.

Melissa curled into one corner of the sofa, sitting at right angles to him. “How’s Stephanie doing?”

“She’s asleep now.”

Melissa nodded. She was starting to feel close to Stephanie. The woman was fun-loving and generous. She wasn’t exactly worldly wise, but she was perfectly intelligent and worked harder than anyone Melissa had ever met.

“I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Jared gazed at her without speaking, an indefinable expression on his face. It was guarded, yet intimate, aloof, yet intense.

“Tell me what you were writing,” he finally said.

Melissa could feel the blood drain from her face. The air suddenly left the room, and an oppressive heat wafted over her entire body.

“A letter,” she rasped.

“To who?” he asked.

“My brother,” she improvised, dreading what Jared must know, hoping against hope for a miracle. “Which one?”

She waited for his eyes to flare with anger, but they stayed frighteningly calm.

“Adam.” She swallowed. “I promised…I promised him…that I’d, uh, be careful.”

Jared nodded. “And have you? Been careful.”

“Yes.”

He raked both hands through his short hair. “Oh, God, Melissa. I don’t want to do this.”

She jumped up from her chair, too nervous to sit still, sweat popping out of her pores. “Do what?”

“It’s so unfair to you.”

What was he talking about? What was he planning to do to her? She found herself inching toward the door, wondering if the women next door were still awake. Would they hear her if she screamed?

“I didn’t know where else to go.” His voice was suddenly thick with emotion.

The tone made Melissa pause. “What do you mean?”

Was he going to yell at her? Toss her out of the cottage? Throw her off the property?

She was starting to wish he’d just get it over with. Should she try to grab the laptop?

He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Never mind?

He came to his feet, and she struggled not to shrink away.

“Did you say something about wine?” he asked.

She gave herself a mental shake, struggling to clear her brain. “Melissa?”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry with you? I’m the one invading your privacy.” A beat went by. “And attempting to drink your wine.”

She forced herself to move. “Right. It’s on the counter.” What had she missed? What had just happened?

She heard him moving behind her as she opened a wooden drawer. “I think I saw a corkscrew in here.”

“It’s a screw top.”

“Oh.” Classy. She was willing to bet he didn’t often drink wine from a screw-top bottle. “One of the cowboys picked it up in town,” she explained.

“Did you have to flirt with him?”

“For screw-top wine? Please.”

Jared grinned. “I forgot. I’m talking to the master.”

“I gave him ten bucks and told him to do the best he could.” She hunted through the cupboard, but gave up on wineglasses. “These do?” At least they weren’t plastic.

“You sure you should be spending your hard-earned money on wine?” he asked. He poured while she held the glasses.

“You tripled my wages, remember?”

“Did we agree on that?”

“We sure did.”

He set down the bottle, taking one of the short water glasses from her hand. “Get it in writing?”

“Didn’t have to.” She gave him a mock toast. “I know your secret.”

“No, you don’t,” he responded dryly, downing a good measure of the wine.

She watched his stark expression with a whole lot of curiosity. Jared had a secret? Something other than playacting for his sister?

Okay, it couldn’t be as big as Melissa’s secret. But it might be interesting. And it could be exactly the hook she was looking for to get the story started.

Jared hadn’t meant his words to sound like a challenge. But he realized they did. And if the expression on Melissa’s face was anything to go by, she’d reacted the same way.

“So?” She sidled up to him, green eyes dancing with mischief.

“None of your business.”

“Then why’d you bring it up?”

Fair question. Better question, why was he even here? It had been one roller coaster of an emotional day. He’d been half blind with anger at the cemetery, holding on to his temper by a thread, knowing he couldn’t let Stephanie or Royce catch on.

He could tell Royce was suspicious. So when Stephanie went upstairs to bed, Jared had escaped from the house. Then he’d seen Melissa’s light, and his feet had carried him to her door.

He thought he knew why. He needed to spend time with someone completely separate from his family. Melissa didn’t know any of the players in their little drama. She knew nothing about his family but what he’d told her. She might annoy him or argue with him or frustrate the hell out of him with her approach to life, but she wouldn’t threaten his composure.

She grazed her knuckles along his biceps. “You said you had a secret?” she prompted.

Here was another reason to darken her doorway. Her musical voice soothed him. Her scent enticed him. And when he gazed at her lips, all he could think about was capturing them with his own, tasting her all over again and letting the softness of her body pull him, once more, into oblivion.

And maybe it was as simple as that. He’d come to her because he needed to forget for a while.

He captured her hand, holding it tight against his sleeve, the warmth of her palm seeping through to his skin.

“I want you,” he told her honestly.

Her voice went husky, stoking his desire. “That’s not exactly a secret.”

He smiled at her open acceptance of his declaration. He liked it that she wasn’t coy. She was confident and feisty. She flouted convention, ignored advice. There was something to be said for a woman who marched to her own drummer.

“I was expecting something more interesting,” she said.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. A secret takeover of a multinational corporation. News that Ryder International was sending a manned mission to Mars. Maybe that you were really a CIA agent masquerading as a businessman.”

Jared couldn’t help but laugh at the last one. The knot of tension in his gut broke free. “The CIA?”

“Didn’t you read the article?”

“What article?”

“In the Chicago Daily. Two years ago. Well, they outed you as a spy in the lifestyle section. Though, I suppose if they’d had any real evidence, it would have made the front page.”

“You remember what you read in the Chicago Daily two years ago, yet you can’t remember how to tie a quick-release knot?”

“Are we still talking about sex?”

“You’re amazing.” He’d never met anyone remotely like Melissa. She was smart, sassy and stunningly gorgeous. How had the men of Gary, Indiana, let her get away?

“So you’re not in the CIA?” she pressed with a pretty pout.

He slipped an arm around her waist, settling her close and letting the balm of her company soothe him. A breeze wafted in over the river, fluttering the plaid curtains above the small sink. The lights were low, the evening cool, the woman beautiful.

“You caught me,” he said, setting his glass on the countertop and sliding hers from her fingers. “Ever slept with a spy?”

“You’d lie to get me into bed?”

“Is it working?”

“I’m not that impressed by a spy. I’d rather you were an astronaut going to Mars.”

He settled his other arm around her waist, squaring her in front of him. “I can be anything you want.”