I’m varnishing the painting I promised Eric, moving the brush quickly from one end of the canvas to the other; I fall into a rhythm as I work and let my thoughts drift. A week has gone by since Ben and I shared that meal with Cat and Becca. A week of adhering to my resolution not to get too close to her. Just brief conversations at the school gate or when our kids had play dates. Nothing more.

I draw in a deep, harsh breath. The ladies in the village narrow their eyes when they see me; I’ve heard them whisper that name, Brute. I grit my teeth and the muscles in my neck strain against my skin. It’s not me who’s the brute, but my fucking brother. Always the apple of Papa’s eye, Gleb could do no wrong as far as he was concerned. He gave him a position of trust, access to myriad bank accounts. A vein throbs on my forehead. Little did Papa know his eldest son was laundering Russian mafia money…

I put down my paintbrush and stare at the canvas. Red and purple swirling shapes, reflecting my fury at the situation in which I find myself. If it weren’t for my son, I wouldn’t be here. I’d have gone to Russia myself to find my brother.

I scowl as I think about him. Gleb’s so-called friends took my wife and unborn baby, leaving my son motherless. To protect Ben, I had to give up my old life and start a new one. There’s a pounding in my ears as I clench and unclench my hands. I hate having to live with lies and secrets. I hate that I’m unable to give my son a normal life. But most of all, I hate myself for being the arrogant bastard who put his family in danger. The mafia’s threats and my own guilt are preventing me from finding love again; I’d be a fool to put another woman at risk.

The sudden sound of barking cuts across my thoughts, and I peer through the open window. Damn, Cat’s dog is running around like a maniac, yapping at a squirrel. Then he squats and deposits a steaming dump in the middle of my lawn.

Fuck.

I rush outside, but Catrin is there already, clipping a lead onto Toby’s collar. God, she’s beautiful. Her blond bobbed hair is dishevelled, and I fight the urge to run my fingers through it. She’s dressed in tight blue jeans that hug her curves, and I fight the urge to grab her ass and pull her against me. Her sweater has ridden up, revealing a line of honey-coloured bare skin, and I fight the urge to lick and bite at it.

Urges. That’s all they are. I can handle them. No problem. Except my cock tells me different; it gives a throb of need.

“I’m so sorry.” Cat walks toward me, shaking her head. “I really should fix that gap in the hedge.”

“I’ll do it for you.” I lightly touch her shoulder.

She jumps back, and a tremor shakes her body. Does she feel it too? This pull between us…

Careful, Daniel.

“Would you like to come in for a coffee?”

I’m just being neighbourly. No harm in that.

“Thanks.” Her cheeks flame. “But maybe I should pick up Toby’s poop first?” She meets my eye and gives a nervous laugh.

I allow my lips to quirk. “I’ll deal with it later.”

We leave Toby outside and she follows me into my kitchen, glancing around curiously. It’s the first time she’s been in this room; it’s the first time anyone other than Ben and I has been in here, apart from her daughter, Gabe and Eric. Such a change from my old lifestyle, with daily cleaners and every luxury you could think of. This place is simple, but it suits me and my son. I manage to take care of it myself; employing anyone might be dangerous…

I turn my attention to Catrin. “Do you take milk and sugar?”

“Just a spoonful, please, and lots of milk.” A smile quivers on her mouth.

I switch on the coffeemaker and pull out two chairs. She sits, and her smile widens. “Your kitchen is different than mine.” She laughs shyly. “More masculine, somehow.”

“As it should be.” I draw my eyebrows together in a thoughtful frown, remembering the flower-filled vases and pastel colours in her cottage last week. I hope she doesn’t say mine needs a woman’s touch; it would be more than a tad clichéd.

She flicks the tousled hair off her forehead. “Josh has been gone three years.” Her words come out of the blue, blindsiding me. “How long is it since your wife passed?”

Silence fills the space between us. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee permeates through the air. I ignore her question momentarily and go to fill our cups. Then I sit back down and fix her in my gaze. My damn heart pangs. “Nearly three and a half years.”

“Does it still hurt?”

I stare down at my fingers. “Victoria was pregnant. I didn’t know. She lost the baby and then she lost her life.” My words sound strangled to my ears.

“God, I’m so sorry.” I wait for the platitudes, the meaningless phrases. How devastating. How do you get over something like that? But she doesn’t say them. Instead, she turns in her chair, places her hands on my shoulders and draws me in for a hug.

I wrap my arms around her and feel the warmth of her toned body under the palms of my hands. A bolt of desire shoots through me. This is wrong, yet, at the same time, it feels so right. I inhale her sweet scent. She lifts her face and I kiss her soft mouth, her tears mingling with my tears.

Fuck it.

Fuck everything.

I want her.

Does she want me?

No need to ask. She parts her lips and my tongue darts between them. She gives a little moan and cups my face with her hands, her fingers threading their way through my beard. I deepen the kiss with a bite. She whimpers but doesn’t tell me to stop. I brush my thumbs over her cheeks and kiss her again… kiss away all the pain, the regret, and the sorrow.

I pull her to her feet. We nibble, and bite and kiss like there’s no tomorrow. She starts rocking her body against mine, and I do what I’ve been wanting to do since catching sight of her in my garden. I lift her up by the ass; she wraps her lovely legs around me. I walk her over to the kitchen counter and sit her down. “Is this what you want, Cat? Tell me to stop and I will. I’m cautioning you… I like it rough.”

She nods, her eyes shining. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” She slides her hand up my thigh and strokes the bulge between my legs.

I don’t know what to say, but my cock jumps in response. I tangle my fingers in her silky hair, pulling her head back so I can suck on her neck. Warning bells ring in my head. This is fucking insane. What the hell am I doing? The bells become more insistent, and I realize my damn phone is ringing. I pull the device from my pocket and answer it.

Eric, my so-called agent is on the other end of the line. He tells me he’s about to arrive. Fuck, I thought he was coming tomorrow. Gently, I lower Catrin to the floor and explain. My voice is hoarse with need, and the tent I’m pitching in my jeans is hard as steel. I rub at the back of my neck. “My agent will be here in a couple of minutes.”

Her face flames. “That’s what I call good timing.” A wry smile lifts the corners of her lips.

I see her to the door and open it. Eric is already standing on the step.

She shakes his hand after I’ve introduced them. Then her fucking dog bounds up, barking and wagging its tail. “I’d better take Toby home,” she says, reaching for his leash. “Nice meeting you, Eric.”

“Likewise,” he grins.

I watch Catrin lead her dog through the gap in the hedge. She was saved by the bell. Literally. She doesn’t need a damaged man like me; she needs a normal guy who’ll become a father to Becca. All I could offer her would be temporary. I mean, I never know from one day to the next when I’ll need to pack up and move on. A life on the run isn’t something I’d wish on Cat and her delightful daughter. Never in a million years. She wouldn’t want it anyway. It’s bad enough that I might have to drag my son away one day to protect him.

A sigh catches in my throat, and I take Eric through to my studio. “Here it is.” I lift the canvas. “Do you like it?”

“Bloody fantastic.” He bites the words out. “My buyer will love it.”

“Great.” What else can I say? Whoop-de-doo. Another one bites the dust. I can churn them out like a fucking factory worker.

Eric takes the painting to his car while I rustle up some lunch. Just a couple of cheese sandwiches and a pot of ready-made soup. I think about Catrin again. What would have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted? My dick grows hard and heavy as I imagine how I’d have ripped off her jeans, spread her wide and fucked her with my tongue, sucking and biting on her clit until she exploded. I’d have given her multiple orgasms then carried her upstairs, tied her to the bed and pounded into her. Not going to happen now, I promise myself. No fucking way.

Eric returns stinking of cigarette smoke. He rubs a hand through his dark blond hair. “So, you’ve made friends with your new neighbour, have you?” he smirks.

“Yep.” I don’t like his insinuating tone of voice.

“She’s rather attractive.”

She’s more than attractive. She’s fucking beautiful. I keep my thoughts to myself. “How are things in London?” I ask to change the subject.

“I was about to tell you.” A worried look spreads across his pale face. “The Russians have started behaving badly again. The news will be made public tomorrow. A couple of your countrymen were murdered last week. We think by your brother’s associates.”

A slither of ice slips down my spine.