She took a drink from her beer, then set it back down. "What?"

"Why do you live in Gospel?"

"My grandfather needs me," was the easy answer.

He scratched the scar running down his bare chest and leaned his chair back on two legs. "Not buying it. Your grandmother's been dead for more than two years."

She looked over at him, her relaxed, sexy fantasy man. What did it matter what she told him? It wasn't as if she should hold back for fear of killing the relationship. She pushed her hair behind her ears and told him about Randy Meyers. How she'd found his family for him and what he'd done with the information she'd given him. She told him how Randy had looked and seemed so normal.

"You can't always tell a crazy person by looking," she said.

Rob nodded. "Stephanie Andrews didn't look crazy until she shot me. The scariest thing about crazy people is that they can look so normal."

He was right.

"Did you see Kathy Bates in Misery?" he asked as the legs of his chair hit the floor. "She was scary as hell." He reached for another sandwich and took a bite.

"Yes she was, Mr. Man."

He laughed and swallowed. "So you quit your job and moved to Gospel because a psycho nut killed his family?"

That was one reason. "I quit because I could no longer tell myself that the people I tracked down were lowlifes and deserved to be found and that I was somehow better."

"You came here for a change just like me," he said as if it was fact.

"Maybe."

"Do you think you'll ever go back?"

"To detective work?" She shook her head.

"To Vegas?"

She thought a moment. Vegas had chewed her to pieces and spit her out, but sometimes she really missed the bright lights of the big city that truly never slept. "Maybe. I've spent a lot of my life there. That's where I graduated my last year of high school, and I went to ULV. That's where I used to party like a rock star and later got my PI license. It always felt like home to me. Maybe it will again."

Rob polished off his sandwich and hers, then he took her back upstairs. They had sex against the granite wall of his shower, taking care of fantasy number nine hundred and ninety-six. Afterward, he dried her off and they watched the ten o'clock news. He fell into an exhausted sleep during the weather report.

Kate removed his arm from her waist and gathered her shoes and underwear. She looked at him one last time, asleep within the tangle of sheets and the sliver of moonlight pouring across the bed. She walked downstairs and pulled her dress over her head. She stepped into her shoes and shoved her panties and bra into her little black bag.

Then she left, quietly shutting the door behind her, because that's what you did with a fantasy man. You left before you did something stupid like spend the night. Before you could fool yourself into thinking that what you had was real.

Rob walked into the M &S the next morning, and his gaze instantly sought Kate. She stood behind the counter ringing up items from a blue plastic basket for Regina Cladis. She looked good. Good like something he wanted to toss over his shoulder and carry home. The older woman said something and Kate laughed, a warm, amused sound that seeped between his rib bones and lodged in his chest.

"Morning, Rob," Stanley called out to him from his position at the coffee machine.

"Hello, Stanley."

"Hey, Rob," Dillon Taber said from behind his coffee mug.

"Hey, Sheriff. How's it goin'?" Rob asked as he walked through the store to the counter.

"Can't complain."

Kate looked up at him. The corners of her mouth curved just a little, as if she was trying very hard not to smile. She wore a white shirt that closed with laces across her breasts and had some sort of black thing beneath it. The shirt wasn't real tight, and it didn't show off anything fun, but it still managed to be sexy as all hell.

"You should try the jalapeno jelly," he told Regina as he moved behind her in line. "It's really good."

"That's what Kate says." Regina turned and squinted at him through her thick glasses. "But I'm going to pass."

"Okay, but yesterday I saw Iona fighting with Ada over ajar."

Her magnified eyes narrowed. "Why would they fight over the same jar?"

He hadn't thought of that. "Who knows what drives some women to drop their gloves."

"Huh?"

"Here's your change, Regina," Kate said through a smile that she could no longer contain.

As soon as the older woman grabbed her bag and walked away, Rob took her place at the counter. "We need to talk about somethin', babe."

Her smile flattened. "You're calling me babe again."

"I know." He placed his hands on the counter and leaned closer. "Do you want to talk here, or somewhere more private?"

She glanced around the store, then her brown eyes met his. "My grandfather's office."

"Lead the way;" He moved behind the counter, and his gaze slid down the back of her white shirt to the waistband of her black pants. He'd finally seen her tattoo. It was blue and gold and covered one cheek on her nice, smooth butt. He liked it. He liked all of Kate. Except for one thing.

"Why did you leave last night without telling me?" he asked as soon as they were alone.

She leaned back against the closed door, her dark red hair falling to her shoulders. "You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you."

"Why the hell did you leave at all?" When he'd woken and found her gone, he'd been angry, and not just because he'd wanted another shower with her.

"I couldn't stay. Not after the lecture I got about fornication from my grandfather."

In the past, he'd used women and they'd used him. He didn't want that with Kate. He'd had a bad marriage. He didn't want that either. He wanted something in between. Something he'd never had before. A woman in his life that he actually liked out of bed. He took a step toward her and combed his fingers through the side of her hair as he looked down into her eyes. Eyes that had just the night before gazed back at him, shimmering with the same aching desire he'd felt for her. "If you won't stay the night, at least tell me you're leaving. Even if I'm asleep. That way I won't wander around looking for you, thinking maybe you got lost in my house."

She bit her bottom lip. "You did that?"

"Well… yeah." Maybe he shouldn't have admitted that. Before he could confess anything else potentially embarrassing, he kissed her. He meant to give her a quick peck, but he stayed a fraction too long, and the want and need that had not been sated the night before settled low in the belly and twisted into a hard knot. Her lips parted and her tongue touched his, slick and warm and tasting of cocoa and whipped cream and Kate.

When he came up for air, his hands were beneath her shirt on her breasts. Her nipples were hard against his palms and her fingers were wrapped around his wrists. Through the door, he heard Stanley moving around in the storage room.

"Rob, we can't do this here," she said in a shaky voice just above a whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. This is my grandfather's office. He's right outside the door."

She was right. This time. "Sorry," he said as he slid his hands to her waist. "I got sidetracked again."

She licked her lips, moist from his kiss. "That seems to happen to you quite often."

Only with her. She made it hard to breathe. Made him lose his mind. Maybe because he felt safe and comfortable with her enough to lose his mind. Knowing that he made her lose her mind as well was a huge turn-on. He squeezed her waist and forced his hands from her. "Come over tonight."

Her eyes were a little dazed, and she blinked a few times as if she were trying to clear her head.

"We'll have dinner," he added. "Shoot pool. Six-thirty?"

She nodded and tucked her shirt back into her pants.

"If you don't show up," he warned for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, "I'll come looking for you."

"I'll be there." She took a deep breath and opened the door. "I'm going to kick your butt at pool."

"Right," he scoffed, but a few hours later, she'd won four out of six games. Probably because he got distracted by the way she looked leaning over his pool table.

He grilled steaks, and they ate in his dining room again. Then he took her to bed, where he scored big.

Over the next week, they knocked out a few more fantasies, including a quicky in the alley behind Rocky's and-Rob's personal favorite-a hummer in the HUMMER.

She brought over a picnic basket, and they ate in bed while watching the Chinook's Avalanche game on the big-screen television in his bedroom.

She knelt in the center of his blue plaid quilt wearing a T-shirt from his old Red Wings days. It covered her from shoulders to her upper thighs, and he wondered why she bothered with the shirt at all. He'd just spent a pleasant hour getting up close and personal with the parts she covered.

"Ouch." She winced as the camera zoomed in for a close-up of Chinook goalie Luc Martineau thumping Teemu Selanne in the back with his stick. When that didn't seem to faze the Fin, Luc hooked his skates and took him down.

"Yeah," Rob said through a laugh.

She spread Brie on a slice of baguette and handed it to him. "That wasn't very nice." She picked green grapes from the stem and handed those over too. "That number sixty-eight is kinda cute?"

"Selanne?" He popped a grape in his mouth and frowned. Cute? Something that felt a little like jealousy jabbed his chest. Only he didn't think it was jealousy because he wasn't a jealous guy. "Selanne hits like a girl, and his accent is so thick, you wouldn't be able to understand him."

"Who cares about talking," she said and glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes.