“What?” Sadie gaped at Caleb. How the hell had he known? “I’ll confess to no such a thing,” she said. “That’s not even close to what I . . .” She trailed off when he just stood there so composed while she was . . . not composed.

Because he’d spoken the truth. She was indeed a Miss Judgy Judgerson. “It’s all your suits’ fault,” she said.

He looked at her for a long beat, his eyes a good part amused, but also there was frustration there. “Here’s what I think,” he finally said. “I think that when you get uncomfortable, you look for a way out. You were uncomfortable with me from the very beginning, in the best way possible. Meaning you were attracted to me. And that scared you, so you’ve been looking for a way out ever since.” He held her gaze. “A suit is my work uniform, Sadie, nothing more. It’s business, and also about professionalism and maturity, and to a lesser degree, image. I’m not going to wear a T-shirt and jeans into a business meeting with NASA, for example. Not when we’re going to sit down and discuss future projects that could add up to billions of dollars. I’m not hiding behind my clothes, but I’m not being inauthentic either.”

He was right, and worse, he was as authentic as they came, whereas she tended to go for shock value, a fact that proved her immaturity more than anything else. Sagging back against the counter, she crossed her arms and looked into his knowing eyes. “It must be hard to be perfect.”

He laughed. Laughed .

“I don’t know why that’s funny,” she said. “And you know what else you are? Way too calm, which pisses me off.”

“It’s my black heart.”

“So nothing gets it pumping?” she asked.

“You know exactly what gets my black heart pumping.”

She felt her face heat, which really got to her and she closed her eyes. Because yes, she did know exactly. When he’d been buried deep inside her so that she could feel nothing but him, his heart had pounded hard against hers and it’d been thrilling. She opened her eyes and found him standing right in front of her.

Smart, sexy, and he moved like smoke.

“FYI, I’m not even close to perfect,” he said. “I’m bossy, demanding, I don’t seem to know when to give up, and . . .”

“And . . . ?” she prodded when he trailed off.

“I’m not exactly proud of this.” He ran a finger along her temple, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “But I’m also emotionally detached.”

“From . . . ?”

“Just about everyone,” he said.

“Except your family.”

“Sometimes even them. I don’t do vulnerable very well. Had too much of it growing up. So I hold back, specifically with women.” His finger stroked over her earlobe now, his eyes on the movement. “My last girlfriend dumped me for it. And the one before that too. I think ‘coldhearted bastard’ was a common theme.”

She took that in, watching him watch her from those still hooded eyes. She wasn’t the only one of them who was messed up. The realization should’ve scared her, but instead it comforted. She glanced around at his huge house that she was pretty sure he’d not brought any of their common friends to . . . but he’d brought her. “You’re testing me,” she realized.

He just looked at her.

“You are,” she said slowly. “You’re throwing everything you’ve got at me so I’ll realize you’re just as screwed up as me and dump your ass.”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “When I think about us being in a relationship, I don’t picture the dumping-my-ass part.”

This shut her up for a beat. “You think about being in a relationship?” she asked. “With me? Because let’s be honest. Your heart isn’t even close to black. But mine is.”

“I like your black heart,” he said. “And yes, I think about being in a relationship with you. Why does that surprise you?”

“Because I’m a hot mess!”

He smiled. “You’re hot,” he said, “but you’re not a mess. You’re strong, determined, resourceful, unpredictable—” He smiled when she grimaced at the truth of that.

But it was truly shocking to her that he remembered everything about her. He knew her, like really knew her. After living her life surrounded by people who’d barely noticed her, being around Caleb was revolutionary.

“—And,” he added quietly, “apparently you haven’t figured out that I like all of that, a lot.”

“And yet you’re still testing me. Did I pass or fail?”

“Depends,” he said, “on what you do next.”

She stared at him for a beat, at war with herself. Don’t do it , she thought. Don’t . But she set down her now empty bag of fries, licked the salt off her thumb, and strode across the expanse of the kitchen straight for him.

He didn’t move an inch, just watched her come at him, eyes hooded, body on the wrong side of tense.

He wanted not to care about her.

But he did.

And she knew exactly what that felt like. Not stopping until they were toe-to-toe, she slid her hands up his chest and let her fingers curl into his hair. Holding his gaze, she tugged his head down to hers and took his mouth.

For a beat, he didn’t budge, just let her nibble at first one corner of his mouth and then the other. It wasn’t until she gave his full lower lip a nip with her teeth that he groaned and yanked her into him, hard.

“I thought you’d have run screaming into the night by now,” he murmured.

She gave a rough laugh. “Look at me, Caleb. If anyone should be running scared, it’s you.”

“You don’t scare me either, Sadie Lane.”

“Well, I damn well should.”

This got her another slow shake of his head. “I like you,” he said. “Just the way you are.”

“Now you’re just trying to get into my pants.”

“You’re wearing a dress, a damn sexy one at that.”

“My panties then,” she said.

“If I was trying to get into your panties, I’d do this.” He backed her to the counter and pressed his warm sexy body into hers. Cupping her face, he kissed her senseless, until she was clinging to him and trying to climb him like a tree. She drowned in the kiss, letting all the pent-up passion flood over her and take control. His hands on her body felt right, so very right as he touched her exactly how she wanted to be touched. She had no idea how he already knew her so well, but he did.

Finally, when they were both breathing crazily, he pulled back just far enough to look into her eyes. He’d tugged her dress straps to her elbows, baring her breasts, and had her hem bunched up over his forearms. His fingers were playing with the edge of her lacy thong, making it hard to pull in air.

“I can’t remember what we were talking about,” she managed.

He flashed a smile and she stared at him transfixed because she knew what was coming next.

Her .

She’d known what would happen from the moment she’d crossed the kitchen, and she reached for him. He lifted her, setting her on the countertop, making her squeal when she made contact with the ice-cold granite. “You’re right,” she gasped. “You’re not even close to perfect.”

“But I’m good,” he said, his amusement giving way to something far more intense. His hands were on her ribcage, just beneath her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples, leaving her feeling like she was walking along a cliff, toying with a tumble off the edge.

Snagging one of the barstools with his foot, Caleb yanked it close. Then he rested his butt against it, giving her a look that nearly melted the thong right off of her before ducking his head beneath her dress.

“Wait,” she gasped, not at all sure why she was stalling other than the mix of how easy he was to be with and his innate sexiness had her off-balance and she hadn’t had a chance to get her barriers into place. “You didn’t finish your dinner. Aren’t you still hungry?”

She felt him smile against her, the hands he had on her both familiar and warm. She was stalling and he knew it. “I’m starving,” he said, muffled by her dress. His hands skimmed up her thighs to nudge them apart. Then the erotically rough pads of his fingers scrapped the lace aside and . . .

“Oh my God,” she gasped as his tongue rasped over her quivering flesh.

“Nope,” he said. “Just me.” This was the last thing he said.

Not Sadie. She said lots. Or rather whimpered and moaned things like “yes!” and “oh, please . . .” and “don’t stop!” and when he played with her, holding her on the edge of the mother of all orgasms, there was more than one “dammit, Caleb!” And that was the thing about him. He could push buttons she didn’t even know she had. And he’d clearly read her instruction manual because he knew exactly how she worked and what she needed to run at maximum capacity.

When he’d thoroughly and shockingly taken her apart and put her back together again, he gently kissed first one inner thigh and then the other, and then her two tattoos.

And then the scar beneath those two tattoos.

She stilled, but not Caleb. He rose, kicked the barstool out of his way, and produced a condom.

Not neon pink.

Leaning over her, he brushed his lips across hers and had her fingers curling into his shirt as she tugged it off him. His tattoos were sexy as hell and she pressed hot kisses to every part of him she could reach as she slid her hands inside his pants, making him doing a little creative swearing of his own.

She didn’t normally have a hard time keeping her emotional connection to a guy in check, but whenever she and Caleb were intimate, it was impossible to control herself, much less her emotions. The gentleness and obvious affection with which he touched her always dissolved the best of her intentions.

“Sadie,” he said huskily.

“Yeah?”

“Missed this.”

“It’s not been long,” she managed to grate out, holding on to him because suddenly he was her only anchor in a spinning world.

And then he was inside her.

She gasped as he filled her, his hands going to her hips to yank her closer to the edge of the counter, allowing him to slide even deeper inside her. She bit his shoulder to hide her moan.

“Aw. You missed me too,” he said and began to move.

And just like that, like always with him, she lost herself, pulled into his force field by the sheer presence of his personality alone. Add to the mix what his body did to hers and how he looked at her . . . She’d never experienced anything like it. It’d probably terrify her if she had any brain capacity left in that moment, but she didn’t. Not with Caleb holding her like she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, his body tensing, telling her he was close. But she was even closer, and even as she thought it, she fell into the abyss, pulling him along with her.

Their release was followed by a perfect moment of contentment as Caleb’s kisses turned tender and lingering again. When their heart rates returned to some semblance of normal—although Sadie wasn’t sure her heart would recover—he helped right her clothing. His hands were still lingering when his phone buzzed on the counter. Nuzzling at Sadie’s neck, he said, “Answer.”

“Honey,” a woman said into the room. “The girls are coming over for The Bachelorette and I’m ordering pizza. Can I get you one?”

Sadie felt Caleb’s chest rumble with his laugh. “Hard pass on The Bachelorette , Mom, but no thanks.”

“But what about the pizza? You love pizza. What’s wrong? You sick?”

One of Caleb’s hands was in Sadie’s hair. He slid it down her throat to cup a breast, letting his thumb slide over her nipple, which tightened for him. “Just . . . busy tonight,” he murmured.

This got him a beat of silence from his mom, like his words didn’t compute. “But you’re always starving by now. Did you get dinner?”

His gaze went wicked as he looked at Sadie and she felt her face heat. “I ate,” he said, and then it was more than just her face heating up. “Gotta go, Mom. Love you.”

Sadie waited until she was sure the call was no longer connected. “You just lied to your mother.”

“I didn’t lie. I did eat.” He flashed a dirty smile that had her halfway to another orgasm and lifted her, one arm banded around her low back, the other sliding around the back of a thigh, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him.

Which she did, kissing her way down his throat to the emblem on his biceps. “You had a good artist.”

“My cousin,” he said, palming her ass, easily holding her up against him. “Like you, she normally only takes on female clients, but I bugged her until she caved.”

“Why only female clients?”

Caleb shrugged. “She’s not super fond of men. Says they have a lower pain tolerance.”

“Men are big babies.” She laughed when he looked surprised and maybe slightly insulted. “And the more alpha they are,” she went on, “the lower their pain threshold. I once had a client who wanted a big badass Metallica tattoo, but he couldn’t handle it. He left the shop with a single line trailing down the back of his shoulder.”

Caleb smiled. “I wasn’t exactly a tough guy when I got my first tattoo.”

“You mean your cartoon turtle?” she teased.

“Laugh all you want, I deserve it. I was an idiot back then. An idiot who needed a couple of shots of whiskey to get through it.”

“It could’ve been worse,” she said. “You didn’t get the name of your high school sweetheart, for instance. Rocco makes more money covering up other tattoos, like ex-lovers’ names, than anything else. If you’re going to get a name inked on your body forever, it should belong to a pet, one of your kids, or—”

“—Mom?” he asked dryly.

She tried and failed to stifle a grin. “Yeah.”

Apparently her grin was contagious because he was grinning back at her and they were staring at each other stupidly, and then not stupidly . . . and the room began to heat up.

He strode with her out of the kitchen and she got breathless with anticipation. “Are we going to try again to prove neither of us is scared?” she asked.

“Yes. As many times as you can take.”

“I don’t have to be at work until eight in the morning.” She nipped at his throat.

With a rough groan, he glanced at the time. “That gives us eight hours.”

“Think it’s enough time?”

“Not nearly, but I’m good at making do.”

“I hope you’ve got a bed somewhere in this huge place.”

“Yeah,” he said as he strode with her into a large living room. “But we’re not going to make it there.”

“We’re not?”

“No.” The rough gravel of his voice and the look on his face turned her on way more than she’d like to admit. He dropped a knee to the biggest couch she’d ever seen and laid her out on it. “But we are going to get all of our clothes off this time,” he promised and had them both stripped down to bare skin in less than a blink, and then proceeded to crawl up her body and get started making the most of their eight hours.

Sadie assumed the next morning would be awkward. After all, morning-afters weren’t in her repertoire. When Caleb dragged her out of bed before dawn’s first light, she told him he should prepare to die. He only laughed and slung her over his shoulder and strode into his bathroom.

She’d considered biting his very fine ass, but then he stepped with her into his blissfully hot shower so she decided he could live for another few minutes.

“You almost died,” she told him.

“Shh,” he murmured and lifted her up against him. “I’m not finished with you yet.” Then he took his time making sure she shared in his joy of coed morning showers and she forgot all about murder.

After, she told him that maybe he might be the perfect man after all—if he cooked her pancakes. But he reminded her he couldn’t cook worth shit. So whew, he really wasn’t perfect.

Lollipop was in the living room attacking a pillow when they came out of Caleb’s bedroom, ready for work.

Sadie froze. “Your sister’s here?”

“No, she just dropped off Lollipop.”

Remembering the last thirty minutes in the shower, Sadie bit her lower lip. “Think she heard us?”

He gave her an amused look. “Us?”

She smacked his chest and he laughed, grabbing her hand. “She didn’t hear anything, the walls are very well constructed and nearly soundproof.”

The “nearly” worried her, but she put it out of her mind when Caleb bought her McDonald’s, breakfast of champions, and then drove her and Lollipop to work. Before she and the dog slid out of his car, he pulled her in close for a goodbye kiss that curled her toes. His touch was sometimes playful and sometimes lust-filled, but it was always meaningful.

“Have a good morning,” he murmured, smiling at the undoubtedly glazed-over look in her eyes.

“I’ve already had a good morning,” she reminded him. “Did you wreck your knees on that hard tile floor in your shower?”

He smiled a very sexy, very knowing smile that brought her back to the steamy hot shower and how he’d dropped to his knees, slid his hands up her thighs and leaned in to give her one of the most erotic experiences of her life.

“You worried I won’t be able to do it again?” he asked.

“More that I’m worried for my knees when I return the favor.”

His eyes went molten lava and he kissed her again. When he broke away, she had to look down to make sure she was still dressed.

After what felt like a very long shift at the day spa, she headed to the Canvas Shop. Both Mini Moe and Blue were there, as well as Cal, who was talking to Rocco.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Cal. “I don’t have you on my schedule for today—”

“I know. I’m just on an early dinner break. Listen, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure,” she said. “Come on back with me while I get set up for my first client.”

He leaned back against her counter and started to pull something from his pocket and she pointed at him. “Stop right there. I don’t want to hear anyone having sex.”

He raised his hands. “I know. And I’m still sorry about that. I just . . .” He met her gaze, his own serious now. “I want to show you something. I was in the building the other day and also this morning. I’m interviewing for a job with Hunt Investigations on the second floor. That’s confidential, by the way.”

“Okay. So why are you telling me?”

“Because . . .” He broke off with a grimace and ran a hand over his head. “Shit.”

“What is it, Cal?”

He accessed his photos and thumbed through, showing her two pictures.

Of herself.

One was of her walking through the courtyard with a bag of McDonalds, which meant it’d been taken that morning. The other was of her leaving the Canvas Shop, Lollipop on her leash, and given the clothes she was wearing, had been taken the week before. “I’d call the cops and tell them I have a stalker,” she said dryly. “But you are the cops. What the hell is this?”

He took the phone back and went back to the first pic and zoomed in. There were people in the background, which wasn’t odd because the courtyard was usually full of people. But there was a young woman sitting on a bench, her phone up and facing Sadie.

Then Cal scrolled to the next pic. The same woman was in the background of that one too.

Sadie shook her head in shock. “What the . . . ?”

“You either have a stalker, or you’re being watched for some reason. Want me to—?”

“No,” she said grimly. Because she recognized her so-called stalker, and because she did, emotions were tumbling through her like a category five hurricane. “I’ve got to go. Text me those photos.”

Cal nodded and left her alone. She stood still for a beat, closing her eyes, trying to contain the sudden tsunami of emotions tumbling through her, battering her from the inside out.

Because her stalker was one of Caleb’s sisters. Given that she was extremely pregnant meant it was Kayla, no doubt backed by the others. She felt a blood-boiling temper that her privacy had been violated. This was immediately followed by humiliation, because she should have known. Of course to allow a woman into his life, Caleb would’ve had to have that woman vetted. She might have even thought of it sooner, but Caleb had pretty much locked down her good sense from that very first night when they’d rescued Lollipop. The poor dog was thankfully blissfully unaware that both of her owners were crazy.

Caleb was having her followed.

And probably doing a deep background check as well, which mean she was going to have to face facts. He’d either already learned things about her that she’d never wanted anyone to know, or he was about to learn those things.

Either way, the combo of bad temper and humiliation had her feeling like a cat with her back against the wall, claws out. She texted with her first client, who agreed to move their appointment back an hour, and strode out to the front.

In unison Blue, Mini Moe, and Rocco did a double take at her expression.

“You’ve been here five minutes,” Rocco said. “Who’s pissed in your Cheerios already?”

She couldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell anyone . “Why is that a saying? Because it’s disgusting. I mean, think about it, did someone actually piss in someone’s Cheerios for that to be a thing?”

“Nice deflection,” he said. “I take it you’d like me to mind my own fucking business.”

“Yes,” she said, never having been more grateful for his real friendship than that moment. But even real friendships had limitations. He knew some of how screwed-up she’d been, but he didn’t know all of it—such as how she’d been involuntarily committed by her own parents. And if she had anything to say about it, he’d never know. No one would. “I’ll be back.”

“You look like you’re going to kick someone’s ass.”

“That’s because I am,” she said grimly.

“Need backup?”

She stopped and moved back to him, going up on tiptoes to brush a kiss to his scruffy jaw. “No, but I love you for asking, thanks.”

“Suits screwed up, didn’t he.”

She had to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. Not easy when it was the size of a regulation football. But there were cracks forming in her temper, allowing other, more uncontrolled emotions to squeeze through and she couldn’t have it. Not yet. Not until she dealt with this and could get herself off alone somewhere to lick her wounds.

Rocco studied her for another beat. “Do I need to kill him?”

“I’ve got it covered.”

He nodded. “You’ll call me if you need help hiding the body.” Not a question but a statement.

There was some comfort in the fact that she knew he 100 percent meant it.