I collide with Theo, and my breath leaves my chest in an audible grunt. I drop my handbag and stumble back, teetering in my heels. He grabs me by the arms before I can fall and pulls me against his body.

His big, hard, warm body.

Breathless, I stare up at him, overwhelmed by the sheer physical pleasure of being so close. Every detail of him leaps out at me, burning a sensation into my brain: his face, his scent, the pulse pounding hard in his neck. His strong hands gripped around my biceps. The throbbing of his heart against my breasts.

A shaky exhalation passes my lips, but otherwise, I’m incapable of speech.

Every slumbering cell in my body has woken up and started screaming.

He drags in a breath, nostrils flaring. I can’t tell if he’s furious, shocked, or aroused, because no man has ever looked at me with this particular expression.

Then he carefully sets me away from him and steps back.

He’s wearing his usual faded jeans, boots, and leather jacket. His black hair is its normal windblown mess. He’s got a three-day growth of beard on his jaw, a glower darker than midnight on his face, and the wild intensity of a thousand suns blazing in his eyes.

He’s so beautiful, I have to put my hand against the wall for balance.

He rakes his gaze over me, head to foot. It might as well be his hands for the effect it has. I start to shake. My mouth goes dry. My skin comes alive with electricity. I wouldn’t be surprised if my hair stood on end in a corona around my head.

I finally gather enough of my wits to speak. “What’re you doing here?”

Without looking away from me, he jerks his head toward the bar.

He can’t have known I was coming here with Craig. I didn’t even know where Craig was taking me. So unless he followed us here, running into him like this is another damn coincidence.

Theo jerks his chin at me, like What about you?

“I’m having dinner with Craig Kennedy.”

The curl of his upper lip is subtle but unmistakable. It has the unexpected effect of pissing me off.

I shove away from the wall and grab my purse from the floor. When I straighten, I blast Theo with a glare. “Oh, the guy who faked being sick to avoid me doesn’t like that I’m on a date? That’s classic. You were right, Theo. You are fucked up.”

I try to brush past him and go back to the table, but before I can take three steps, he grabs me by the arms and spins me around. He pushes me against the wall in the small corridor where the restrooms are set apart from the restaurant, so we’re blocked from view by a duo of large potted palms.

The length of his torso presses against mine, crotch to chest. He holds me there against the wall and stares down at me. When he drops his gaze to my mouth, a tremor runs through his chest. He exhales a low noise, like a groan, only softer.

My heart thuds so fast, I feel faint. If a person could spontaneously combust, I would.

I whisper his name. He winces, as if hearing the word leave my lips is painful. With an expression like he would stop himself if only he could, he drops his head to my neck and inhales deeply against my throat.

On instinct—like a cat when it’s stroked down its back—I arch into him, purring.

He exhales in a soft gust. His warm breath fans down my neck. A delicate shudder runs through his entire body. The faintest brush of his lips against my skin leaves me gasping.

I.

Am.

On.

Fire.

He raises his head and stares down into my eyes. I see yearning and anguish and that bottomless darkness in his eyes, and something in my chest feels like it’s melting.

“Why do I hurt you?” I whisper urgently, searching his eyes. “Why do I feel like I know you? Why are you everywhere, even though all you want to do is avoid me?”

He puts his fingers over my lips to silence me. It’s a reflex, because he blinks when he realizes he’s done it, his brows drawing together in surprise. Then it’s as if he can’t look away from his fingers touching my mouth. He stares, fascinated, as he slowly traces the bow of my upper lip with his trembling forefinger.

I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. I close my eyes and stand there, feeling every beat of my heart on a cellular level, unsure if I’m going to faint or laugh or cry.

I want him to kiss me so much, it’s a firestorm in my blood.

My voice comes out low and raw. “If you won’t answer me, I need you to stay away from me. Do you understand? I can’t…this is…it’s too much.”

I open my eyes and gaze up at him. He’s frozen, staring back at me with tortured eyes.

“I’m strong because I’ve had to be, but you make me feel like I might be losing my mind. You make me…feel. Things. All these goddamn things that I don’t know what to do with, okay? I can’t deal with this, Theo, all this…”

Getting choked up, I struggle for a word. “Emotion. Being around you is like being lit on fire and thrown out of a plane and surviving the hard fall to earth, only to realize I’ve landed in a village of cannibals. And it’s dinnertime!”

I break away from him and stumble around the potted palms, angrily swatting their spidery fronds from my face. I hurry back to the table, arriving just as the waiter does. Craig takes one look at my expression and knows something’s wrong.

“Megan?”

“I’m fine.” I drop into my chair, grab the menu, and pretend to look it over, but all I can see is a certain person’s face staring back at me. That face with its slightly crooked nose and scars, even more appealing because of its flaws.

“Good evening.” The waiter bows. “I’m Michael, and I’ll be serving you tonight. Have you had a chance to review the menu?”

Craig takes charge, earning my gratitude. I doubt if I could hold up my end of a conversation at the moment. My body is still set to Theo Thermonuclear mode.

“Good evening. We’re still deciding on our entrées, but may we please have a bottle of the Sea Smoke pinot noir to start, along with the crab cake appetizer?”

“Very good, sir. I’ll bring the wine out straight away.”

He walks off, leaving me along with Craig, who is looking at me intently over the top of my menu.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Startled, I glance up at him. “For what?”

“For upsetting you.”

I retort, “For propositioning me, you mean.”

“No,” he says, holding my gaze. “I’m not sorry for that. Only that it made you uncomfortable.”

Blood floods my face. I look to the menu for help, but Craig isn’t letting me off the hook so easily.

“I haven’t been on a real date in a long time.”

I snort like a farm animal.

“I’m being serious, Megan. For the past ten years, all my attention has been on building my business.”

I ask tartly, “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been celibate for a decade?”

“I’m trying to tell you that the women I’ve been with are like your friend Suzanne. Easily available. No strings attached. That worked great for me because I wasn’t interested in anything long-term. Lately, I’ve been rethinking that.”

His gaze is serious but sincere. Now I’m even more flustered. Uncertain how to respond, I fiddle with my fork.

“Here’s my point, then we’ll drop it because, judging by the color of your cheeks, you’re not enjoying the conversation.” He pauses briefly. “I’m shit at taking things slow. I’m shit at being patient. I don’t like to waste time. I’m not into playing games. I’m blunt, but I’m also real. You’ll always know where you stand with me, I can promise you that. And right now, I can tell you with all honesty that you’re the most interesting woman I’ve met in years. I’m extremely attracted to you, and I think you’re attracted to me too, but you’re not ready to act on it.

“So we’ll take it slow. We’ll get to know each other. You’ll tell me when I’m being overbearing, and I’ll respect your boundaries. But while we’re doing all that, I might occasionally slip up and do or say something you’ll find offensive, and you’re going to have to call me out on it because it’s been a long time since I’ve wanted anything serious with a woman. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

I stare at him openmouthed. After a few moments, I gather myself enough to speak. “I’m flattered. Honestly. And I appreciate you being so blunt.” I laugh a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Though I have to admit, it takes some getting used to.”

Craig lifts a shoulder. “I like to put all the cards on the table up front.”

Unlike some other men I know. “I can see that,” I murmur, wondering what kind of cosmic joke is being played on me.

On one hand, I’ve got an über-assertive alpha male with a solid-steel ego handing me his feelings on a silver platter. On the other, I’ve got a mute recluse with an attitude as unstable as his mental health who’d rather have all his teeth pulled out than tell me anything.

This shouldn’t be such a surprise. My life stopped making sense years ago.

When a mild tingle runs down my spine, I glance over at the bar. Theo, hands flattened over the bar top and elbows locked, stares back at me. His gaze shifts to Craig. And stays there.

And hardens.

“You’re not saying anything,” observes Craig.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just…” I take a steadying breath, then meet Craig’s eyes. “Since we’re being so honest, I need to tell you a few things too.”

Craig leans toward me, his eyes intent. “Okay. Shoot.”

“Do you see that man at the bar?”

Craig frowns and looks to his right. “Which one?”

“Black hair. Black jacket. Black clouds churning overhead.”

“Oh. Valentine.”

I blink, surprised he recognizes Theo. “You know him?”

Craig shrugs. “I know of him. We’ve bid on some of the same jobs. I’ve seen him lurking around a few builders’ conferences. He has a reputation for being an odd bird. What about him?”

“He bid on the restoration of my house too.”

“Are you hiring him?”

“I had his team do the electrical wiring after the fire—”

“Fire?” repeats Craig loudly. “What fire?”

I wave my hand in the air. “Long story. No one was hurt. My point is…” I take another deep breath. “I think there might be something going on between us.”

Craig lifts his brows. “You think? Are you saying you’re dating him?”

“No. I’m not dating him. In fact, I’m convinced he doesn’t like me at all.”

He squints at me as if to see me better. “I don’t understand. How could there be something going on between you if he doesn’t like you and you’re not dating him?”

I sigh, because out loud, it sounds as ridiculous as it is. “Believe me, I don’t understand it either. But…just look at him. Look at the way he’s looking at you. How would you describe it?”

Craig slices his gaze back toward the bar. After a few beats, he says mildly, “I’d say he wants to rip off my fucking head.”

“Exactly.”

After a moment, Craig quirks his lips. Then he glances back at me, his eyes sparkling. “Good.”

“Good? Did you just say good?”

“I did.”

“Okay, now I’m confused.”

“It’s a guy thing. Never mind. The more important issue is how serious this ‘thing’ is that you feel is going on between you. In other words, if he and I are in a race for your attention, who’s ahead?”

I lean back into my chair and stare at him. “My God. You’re unflappable.”

Craig breaks into a grin. “Thank you. It’s one of my better qualities. Answer the question.”

My expression sours. “You’re also bossy.”

“Not one of my better qualities. Please answer the question.”

“There’s no race.” I try not to look toward the bar to see what Theo’s doing, though I can tell by the pinpricks of electricity running up and down my arms that he’s shifted his gaze from Craig back to me. “Like I said, I don’t think he likes me.”

“But?” Craig prompts when I’m silent too long.

“But…I think…” I stare at the tablecloth, struggling for an explanation that makes any kind of sense. “He’s drawn to me. And to the Buttercup. And he doesn’t want to be.”

When I glance back at Craig, he’s gazing at me with a contemplative look, his head tilted to one side.

“I heard he was in an accident.”

I nod, chewing my lip.

“Do you think he’s dangerous? Mentally unstable?”

“No,” I reply firmly, but I’m only answering the first question. He’s definitely unstable, but that’s not something I’d tell Craig. Don’t ask me why, but some secrets of Theo’s I’ll always keep.

More softly, Craig asks, “Do you think it’s possible that he’s targeting you?”

The question startles me. “Targeting me for what?”

Still in that quiet voice, his gaze steady on mine, Craig says, “You’re a young, beautiful widow. Alone, in a new town, apparently with some financial means if you were able to afford the Buttercup Inn. The list of what someone like him might target you for is long.”

I don’t like the way Craig says someone like him, but I’m the one who started this line of conversation. I can’t back out now. “No, I don’t believe he’s targeting me for anything. Frankly, I think he’d be happier if I moved away and never came back.”

Craig looks doubtful. “Right. He hates you so much, he’s going insane with jealousy over there by the ice sculpture. C’mon, Megan. If someone gave him a baseball bat, he’d already be swinging it at my head.”

“How can you be so calm about that?” His smile is smug, and I have my answer. “Of course. Because you’re used to other men being jealous of you.”

He chuckles. “You say that like it’s a character defect.”

I prop my elbows on the table and drop my face into my hands. “I’m sorry, my brain is going on vacation now. You’ll have to talk to my napkin instead.”

“I have an idea.”

I groan. “I can hardly wait.”

“Let’s go talk to him and find out what the problem is.”

Horrified, I snap my head up and stare at Craig. “No.”

He grips the arms of his chair and rises a few inches from his seat. “Are you sure?”

I hiss, “Sit down, Craig, before I take my dinner knife to your testicles!”

At the bar, Theo straightens, livid at Craig for upsetting me, though he doesn’t even know why I’m upset. I wonder where I went wrong in life to wind up here, now, dealing with this.

“Easy, tiger,” says Craig, laughing. “I’d like to keep my balls, if you don’t mind. If things go the way I hope they will, we’re gonna need them.”

Then he leans across the table, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.

Gasping in shock, I pull away just in time to catch sight of Theo striding out from behind the bar, brows lowered, lips flattened, a five-alarm fire burning hell blazes in his eyes.

He heads straight for our table with Craig in the crosshairs of his murderous sights.