The tense mood lasts until we’re back at Kane’s place.

How dare he say I don’t know my own self-worth? Like he’s some kind of authority on me, and I’m clueless? I have no illusions about who and what I am.

When the garage door closes behind us, I yank the beanie off my head. “Are you going to make me wear that every time?”

He grunts.

Oh, great. Now he’s not speaking. Excellent.

I’m still collecting my things when he opens the door to let me out of the car we drove today. I didn’t see this one in the collection of four-wheel drives, but that’s probably because it’s not quite as tall and was hidden between them. It’s a nondescript black Audi sedan with blacked-out windows that makes me think of the Transporter, which is probably appropriate. Although, Kane has Jason Statham beat on every level, including sheer badass-ness.

He takes my bag from off my shoulder and carries it to the elevator, but lets me keep my purse.

“So, what’s for dinner?” I ask to break the awkward silence growing in the elevator.

“Gator.”

I whip my head around to look at him. “Seriously? Trying to make the swamp girl feel at home?”

His expression darkens. “You need to work on knocking that chip off your shoulder. It’s starting to get bigger than your head. Maybe I just like gator. Lean meat. Healthy. And I started it marinating this morning.”

“Oh,” I whisper.

He doesn’t reply, and the elevator clangs into place when it reaches the third floor.

“What’s on the second floor?” I ask as he opens the gate.

“Nunya.”

I open my mouth to ask what? But then it clicks. “None of my business? Like your company name? Very cute, by the way.”

His expression finally softens. “I do have a sense of humor.”

As we exit the elevator, I’m still holding on to my question like a dog with a bone. “You’re really not going to give me a clue? None at all?”

“It’s where I work.”

“Ah, the heart of the bat cave.” This comment at least pries a laugh out of him.

“Something like that.”

“Still nothing on my brother?”

Kane shakes his head. “I’ve got trackers set up to ping if he uses a credit card or surfaces in any other traceable way, including a network of contacts. But Ransom is good at going to ground. Using you is the best leverage they’d have to draw him out.”

“But that’s not going to happen.”

“No. We’re not going to let that happen.” He turns away and heads for the fridge. “If gator isn’t okay with you, I’ve got chicken.”

I take a seat at the bar. “Gator’s fine. Tastes like chicken anyway.”

---

I never knew watching a man cook could be so sexy. I’m also one hundred percent sure I’m not the only woman to have this thought. However, I’m pretty sure I’m the only woman to have this thought with Kane . . . whatever his last name is.

I tell myself I don’t need to know it, but I’m lying.

I want to know it and every other damn thing about him, which is all wrong. I cut things off at the club when I was starting to get attached because I knew better, but now that things have shifted, it’s like my common sense has left the building.

Kane is dangerous, and it doesn’t have a damn thing to do with the fact that he could probably skewer me right now with the knife in his hand as he chops veggies. Being in close proximity to him and seeing him as more than a guy who fucks like a god is wearing me down.

Speaking of fucking like a god . . . I remember what he said in my office about wanting me naked, and my nipples peak against my blouse. Why I wore white with a sheer bra when I knew he was going to be around is another fabulous question.

Removing that combination from my wardrobe.

I spin around on the super-cool industrial barstool and tear my gaze off the muscles in his arms as he slices and dices, because I can’t handle the sexiness.

I pop off my seat, determined to put distance between us so I can clear my head of all the crazy in it. I stop in front of a shelf that has books stacked haphazardly that somehow manage to look messy-chic. Next to the books is a carved wooden bowl with feet that has smaller wooden bowls resting inside it.

I lift a small one out carefully. “Is this . . . a coconut shell?”

Kane looks over his shoulder, sees where I’m standing, and nods. “It’s for kava.”

“Kava?”

“It’s a drink usually made by island people. I was gifted those bowls by a village elder in Fiji.”

From the photographs around his loft, I assumed he was well traveled, but tossing out phrases like village elder in Fiji makes me think that his travel is nothing like that of the distillery employees going on their cruises to Mexico out of Port of New Orleans. One more thing I’ve never done.

“Fiji? Wow.”

“I prefer it to Tahiti. Less commercial. Plenty of remote places to get lost. Good people too.”

He sounds so sophisticated and I’m . . . not.

“I’ve never left the state of Louisiana.”

This time, he turns to stare at me. “Really?”

I shake my head. “No. We didn’t have the money growing up. Vacation as a kid was a day trip to the city. Watching a funeral parade, maybe. In college, I worked anytime I wasn’t in class or studying. I didn’t have extra cash to go to Panama City or wherever else people went for spring break.”

“You’d love Fiji.”

“I’m sure.” I laugh. “Who wouldn’t?”

He smiles. “You’d probably hate kava, though. At least at first. It looks like dirty water and kind of tastes like it too. It’s a root that’s ground up and put in a bag and soaked.”

“Why the hell would anyone want to drink that? It sounds disgusting.”

As soon as I say it, I regret it because his smile widens and he has dimples. How is this even fair? Oh, right, it’s not.

“After a long day of work, the men gather around as one of them makes kava. They sit and drink bowl after bowl of it. After twenty or so, you get a sense of euphoria with some sedative effects. It’s relaxing, and some say mildly hallucinogenic.”

“Twenty bowls? Of stuff that tastes like dirty water? That sounds like way too much work to get fucked up.”

The dimples reappear again, and I’m caring less and less about Fiji and kava.

“That’s what they have, and it’s an ancient tradition. It’s how they relax and connect. It’s part of their heritage.”

“And why did the village elder gift this to you?”

“I did him a favor.”

“Who did you kill?” The question pops out, and I want to kick myself when his smile disappears.

“No one.” Kane drops his gaze and resumes chopping.

I return the small bowl to the set and leave the living room for the kitchen to stand beside him. “That was a dick thing to say. I’m sorry.”

His hand stills over the stalk of celery. He lifts his eyes to mine, and they flash with intensity. “There’s a whole hell of a lot more to me than what I do. For some reason, I thought you might understand that, but apparently you don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” I suck in a breath and release it. “I . . . I’m not good at this. I don’t have friends. I don’t have relationships. I have my brother. At least, I did.” I shake my head. “I’m not making excuses, I’m just telling you . . . I grew up in a shack on the swamp, taught myself to write the alphabet using a stick and the dirt. When we couldn’t afford the gas to get me to school for a couple years, Ma taught me with books that Rafe stole. I’m not normal, Kane. I don’t know what normal is.”

His features soften and so does the hardness in his eyes. “I don’t know what normal is either, so I guess that means we’re on the same page.”

The knife clatters to the counter and he takes a step toward me, trapping me against the counter.

“Normal’s overrated,” I whisper.

“Damn right.”

Kane tilts his head and skims his lips over mine. “Dinner’s gonna be late, because I’ve been dying to kiss you all damn day. I told myself I’d hold out, but I lied.”

His kiss is an enigma, just like the man. Hard and soft at the same time. Complicated yet simple. And most of all—mind-blowingly delicious.

He doesn’t just use his lips. He uses his whole body. With his hands buried in my hair, he spins me around and walks me backward until I’m pressed against the lower cabinets on the other side of the kitchen.

When he finally releases my hair, leaving it in a tumbled mess around my shoulders, he pulls back. “I’m gonna fuck you right here unless you say otherwise.”

I stay silent. Dinner can wait.