6

      “YOU HAVEN’T CALLED,” Pete said in a congenial voice. “Even though I know you had some…car trouble before you left. Why didn’t you call, Cassie?”

      Very aware that Tag stood less than a foot away, still as gloriously naked as was she, Cassie didn’t say a word. Pete’s voice gave her goose bumps, as did his casual reference to how he’d slashed her tires.

      “We’re friends,” he went on. “Friends, Cassie. And we’re so much more than that, too. Did you know I haven’t come to find you, not because I couldn’t, but because I wanted you to come find me?”

      His words disturbed her, made her feel sick. She’d liked this man, had let him into her life, and that her instincts had been so far off, so wrong, cut deeply.

      “We belong together, you know this,” Pete said in her ear. “We were meant to be. I’m going to make it happen.”

      Her skin crawled. “No—”

      “Yes.” His voice hardened. “You can’t treat me this way, Cassie, vanishing from my world like this. It’s not okay. Friends don’t do that to one another.”

      “Friends.” Suddenly she felt cold, so very cold, and she grabbed for something to cover herself. That it happened to be Tag’s T-shirt didn’t stop her; she shoved it over her wet head and body, then wrapped her free arm around herself. “Funny you use that word. I don’t have any.”

      “Cassie.” His voice was low now, conciliatory, quick to soothe. “Just tell me where you are, I can make it all up to you.”

      He was insane. And she hadn’t seen it until it had been almost too late. “Don’t call me again, Pete.” She clicked off, tossed the phone down by her sandals, and stared off into the night, telling herself he still had no idea where she was or he’d have come for her by now.

      Tag came up beside her. He was still looking at her with his sharp, probing gaze, still naked and apparently unconcerned about that fact. She knew male models, tons of them, and had never seen a man so comfortable in his own skin. He was beautiful, and the way he looked at her…in another place and time she might have been tempted to let herself weaken for him.

      Who was she fooling? She had weakened for him, had very nearly trusted him with anything he wanted to do. Good God, what was wrong with her? He was a sheriff, of all things, a man with authority and power over her if he so chose, and more than that, he was his father’s son. No doubt Sheriff Sean Taggart couldn’t be trusted any more than Richard could be, and yet she’d nearly…

      He pulled his jeans over his still-wet body but didn’t fasten them. He looked like a Greek god standing there next to her, staring out into the night.

      Until he turned to look at her. Those eyes of his weren’t a god’s. They were a cop’s. “Pete.”

      “Yes.”

      “Another threat?”

      “He’s upset because he can’t find me.”

      “Well, thank God for small favors.” When she didn’t answer, he sighed, put his hands on her and pulled her close. That her body wanted to be even closer felt like a betrayal. “You’re not going to ask me for help,” he guessed.

      “No.”

      “Then I’m going to ask you.” He shook her lightly until she locked gazes with him. “Let me help you, Cassie. Please. Let me do this for you.”

      “I don’t need—”

      “No, you don’t want.” His hands slid up her arms, cupped her face. “You’re independent, I get that. You’re proud. I get that, too. But you’re not stupid. You need help. We’re friends, if nothing else, and—”

      “Oh, no.” She let out a short mirthless laugh and backed up. “Not you, too.”

      He narrowed his eyes. “What, is the word friend a trigger word for you?”

      “I’ll admit, we’re…almost lovers. Sparring partners, maybe. But not friends.” When he stepped close again, she took a shaky breath because her heart suddenly and inexplicably hurt. “We’re not. We’ll never be that.”

      She saw surprise flash across his features and, damn it, hurt, too, but that wouldn’t stop her. It was a dog-eat-dog world and she had to stay on top. “A man can’t be a woman’s friend, not—”

      “That’s bullshit.”

      “—when—” she continued coolly while shaking like a leaf inside. “Not when all he wants is sex.”

      He stopped cold, stared at her. She could see the shock in his eyes. Then he pulled away, turned his back.

      Oh, yeah, she’d hit the mark that time. He felt guilty as hell, and that should have been tremendously satisfying. But the victory felt hollow.

      “I’m sorry,” he said.

      “It’s nothing personal.”

      “Like hell.” But he merely slid his hands into his pockets. “You came back here to Pleasantville to hide. That’s fact. You came here even with bitter childhood memories because you knew one thing…you knew you’d be safe.”

      “You don’t know a single truth about my past.”

      “I would if you told me.”

      She wasn’t going to tell him anything.

      “Fine,” he said angrily. “I’ll have to guess then, and you have no one to blame but yourself if I’m wrong.”

      “You’ve already heard what I was like.”

      “I have.” He looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes dark and intense. “But as I’ve already told you, I think the truth is radically different.”

      He didn’t believe the gossip. So what did he believe?

      “You were right to come here.” He still looked toward the lake. “You’ll be safe. You’ll come to the station and let someone know if you feel Pete has managed to track you.”

      “Yes,” she told his sleek, still-wet back. The back she’d wanted to touch, wanted to put her mouth to.

      She’d tell him anything if he’d go away and leave her be, with her burning eyes and burning throat. “I’ll come to the station if I need help.”

      With one short nod, he bent, scooped up her towel and tossed it to her. He looked at her for a long, long moment, then his lips curved slowly. Solemnly. “Be careful, Cassie.”

      And