Kylie didn’t carve very often anymore. When her grandpa had been alive, they’d carved together at night after work and chores were done. It’d been a way they could connect, and for Kylie, who hadn’t had a lot of connections in her life, it’d been everything.

After her grandpa’s death, carving had lost some of its appeal. But tonight, getting her hands on the knife, the movements came back easily as getting on a bike after a long absence, and it gave her . . . peace.

Being in such close contact with Joe gave her other things too. Like a soul-deep yearning and a hunger she’d denied for far too long now. She watched him work the knife over the wood, cutting deep instead of shallow, and she had to admit, it was kind of fun to find that he wasn’t good at everything. She put her hands over his again, trying to show not tell that he needed to caress and finesse. Wrapping her fingers around his, she guided them as he worked the knife up and down.

His eyes landed on hers. “If you keep that up,” he said, “we’re not going to have any problem with the wood.”

He said the word wood in a low, suggestive tone, and her hands stilled as she felt her cheeks flush pink. He held her gaze for a long moment, smiled, and then . . . went back to concentrating on the carving.

She adjusted the angle of his wrists, but mostly it was just to keep her hands on him. He was warm to the touch and she could feel the sinewy muscles in his forearms flexing with each stroke of his knife. She squirmed in her seat, and again he met her gaze. At whatever he found in her expression, a full-blown smile lit up his face, transforming him into a regular guy for a minute. “It’s been a long time,” he said.

“Since . . . ?”

“Since I’ve had fun on a stakeout.”

She laughed. “I thought you were going to say since you’ve had a woman in your car who you weren’t trying to sleep with.”

“Who says I’m not trying to sleep with you?” he asked.

Note to self: Don’t tease him. He’s better at it than you.

“Come here, Kylie.”

His voice was deep and steady and she didn’t hesitate. She scooted close and hard arms pulled her in. Lowering his head, he kissed her. He tasted like chocolate, smelled like aspen wood, and felt like heaven. It was the best kiss she’d ever had and she didn’t want it to end, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Eric come out the back door of the gallery. “Joe.”

“Yeah?” His mouth was making its hungry way along her jaw to her ear, where he took her lobe in between his teeth and gave a slight tug, causing an answering tug between her legs.

“D-don’t we need to talk to Eric?”

He licked the spot he’d just bitten. “Uh-huh.”

She put her hand on his chest and pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “So are we going to do that now?”

He jerked upright and looked out the window to see what she had, that Eric had just come out the back door of the gallery. “Shit.” He was out of the truck so fast her head was spinning. But that might have been the kiss.

Or . . . the knowledge that she’d once again caused Joe to lose control, a fact that gave her a surge of feminine power that had her smiling and unable to stop.

When she followed him, he glanced over at her and narrowed his eyes at her smile. This only made her smile wider and he shook his head—whether at her or him, she couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe it was at himself. Which she liked very much.

Inexplicably happy, she followed him and took in the sight of Eric. She hadn’t seen him in years and he hadn’t changed. He still looked like Gumby in cowboy gear, complete with hat and boots. When he turned from locking the back door of the gallery and saw them standing there, his eyes went straight to Joe and lit up like Christmas.

“Wow, dreams do come true,” he said and gave Joe a slow look up and down.

Joe didn’t blink, just gave Eric that patented badass look of his, the one that would have had Kylie peeing her pants if it’d been directed at her.

“We’d like to ask you some questions,” Joe said.

“Sugar, you can ask me anything you’d like.”

Joe slid a look in Kylie’s direction, bringing Eric’s attention to her for the first time. He paused and then his entire face brightened, going from flirty to happy. “Kylie Masters!” he squealed. “Oh my God, is that really you?”

“You recognize me? This isn’t even my own hair!”

“I know. I have that same wig. And with or without the hair, your smile hasn’t changed and neither have your eyes.” He pulled her in for a warm hug, which she returned with a sigh. So much for her disguise. She’d have to get better at that.

“It’s definitely been too long,” Eric murmured. “Way too long. I tried to contact you so many times after—”

She closed her eyes and he broke off. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Of course you don’t want to talk about it.”

He’d always been one of her favorite of all of her grandpa’s apprentices and now she remembered why. She shook her head and hoped that Joe wasn’t picking up on all the things that weren’t being said, but she knew he was far too sharp for that. The fact was, she didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want anyone else to know her shameful truth.

“I heard you were working for Gib,” Eric said to her. “That’s awesome. He’s doing so great with Reclaimed Woods. I always thought that you two might end up . . .” He gave Joe a quick glance and then lowered his voice. “You know.”

“I work for Gib,” she said. “That’s it.” There’d always been an unspoken belief amongst everyone at one time or another that she and Gib would end up together. And for the longest time she’d believed it too.

Gib was a good guy. But deep down she could admit that she’d always known he wasn’t the right guy. She realized now that there was a huge difference between teenage love and grown-up love. In the past, she’d never really let herself think about being happy and in love. But sometimes in the deep dark of the night, she’d dreamed of what type of man she secretly wanted, and she always thought it’d be someone like Gib—kind, caring, gentle in spirit.

But lately she’d realized something. He was actually the complete opposite of what she needed, and that realization had absolutely nothing to do with her annoying attraction to Joe and everything to do with her own secret craving for love and acceptance.

Except . . . maybe it had a little to do with her attraction to Joe. Over the past week, he’d been there for her without question. In fact, he’d stepped up in a way no one else ever had. Whatever the two of them had going on, friends or maybe more or maybe far less, the fact remained that in a very short time, she’d come to trust him more than she’d thought herself capable of.

And there was more. In addition to the trust and the fact that she ached for his body, he allowed her to be her. Even when she was crazy, wearing a blond wig, insisting he learn how to carve.

And because of all of that, she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wanted more.

A lot more.

“What are you doing out here in the back?” Eric asked. “I didn’t see you inside. I would’ve loved to introduce you to everyone.”

“We weren’t inside,” Kylie said. “We didn’t have an invite—”

“Oh my God. Darlin’, why didn’t you get in contact with me?” Eric asked, horrified. “I’d have had you as a guest of honor!” He gave Joe another sideways glance. “And this tall, cool drink of water could have come with.”

“His name is Joe. He’s . . .” She met Joe’s eyes and saw a flash of humor . She had no idea how to describe him and he knew it. “. . . Helping me. I’ve had a few—”

“Very excited to meet you,” Joe interrupted her and pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from one of his pockets, leaving her wanting to go through his pockets sometime to see what she might find . . .

She came back from her brief and very naughty fantasy to hear Joe ask Eric for his autograph.

Eric fluttered in excitement. “Seriously? Oh wow. Sure thing, sugar, I’ll give you my autograph. I’ll give you whatever you want.” He grinned and signed the pad with a flourish.

Joe looked at the signature and then at Kylie.

Her penguin thief wasn’t Eric. “I have something to show you,” she said and pulled out the Polaroid she’d gotten, the one with the table and bench. “I thought maybe this was your work?”

Eric looked down at the table with a frown. “That looks like your grandpa’s, darlin’.” The frown deepened when he took in the bench next. “But that isn’t his, and it sure as hell isn’t mine either. I don’t do sloppy edges like that.” He shuddered. “And I’d never have picked that color stain. What am I looking at?”

“An imposter. I’m trying to find the woodworker who made the bench.”

“Huh,” Eric said and looked closer at the photo.

“What?” Joe asked him.

“Well, I’m not sure but something in the workmanship reminds me of another woodworker I know.”

“Who?” Joe asked.

“A couple of years back, some guy came by trying to sell a bench. It was supposedly done in the style of your grandpa. But it wasn’t even close.”

“What did you do?” Joe asked.

“I sent him on his way, but I did take his card.” He flashed a smile. “I take everyone’s card.”

“I’d like to see it,” Joe said.

Eric snorted. “That could take a while. Like I said, I take everyone’s card and I never throw anything away.”

“But you do still have it somewhere, right?” Kylie asked. “We really need to talk to him.”

“Yes, I still have it, certainly. It might be tricky for me to get my fingers on it, but I will.” He looked at Joe. “In the meantime, Kylie knows how to get ahold of me, handsome. Don’t be a stranger.” He winked at Kylie. “And you either! Let’s lunch?”

“Absolutely,” she said, and started to say more, but Joe grabbed her by the hand.

“We’ve gotta go,” he said. “Have a good night.”

“But—” But nothing because Joe had her in the truck and down the street before she could blink. “What was that?”

He tossed the pad of paper into her lap and kept driving. “Things to do.”

“Was what we just learned enough to knock Eric off the list?”

“That, and the fact that he sold out tonight making furniture that isn’t in your grandpa’s style. Plus he’s driving a Tesla Roadster.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s an expensive car.”

“So he’s not trolling for easy money,” she said.

“Exactly.”

She sighed. “I thought you were just being rude, rushing me out of there.”

He shot her a glance. “How about clever? Isn’t it just as possible I was being extremely clever?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But also rude. It wouldn’t hurt you to be normal in social situations, you know.”

He ignored this, which didn’t surprise her. “It is interesting,” he said. “Eric’s yet another apprentice who’s alluded to something that happened to you on the night of the fire.”

She stopped breathing. “Of course something happened to me. My grandpa died.”

He glanced over at her, his eyes sympathetic. “I know, and I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, but are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”

“I’m sure,” she said, staring straight ahead out the windshield. “And Eric’s not going to find that card. At least not in time,” she said, watching the night as it whipped past her.

“Be patient. Have some faith.”

This had her looking at him again. “Be patient? Have faith? Are you kidding me?”

“You’ve got to leave emotions out of it or you’ll react with them instead of your brain.”

She snorted in annoyance and frustration. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to fight anything as messy as your emotions.”

He spared her another glance. “You think I don’t have emotions?”

“I think you don’t very often give in to them.”

He was quiet at that, concentrating on the road or who the hell knew what, and she thought it was done, conversation over. Until he pulled onto her street and put his hand over hers to stop her from getting out.

“The job taught me patience,” he said. “And believe me, it came hard-won and I’ve paid the price for it. There were times when hiding my thoughts was the only thing that saved my ass, so yeah, I’m good at it. But don’t mistake that for me not having emotions or feelings, Kylie. You’ve seen me lose it over you more than once now.”

Yeah, and still, she wanted more from him. But she refused to ask for it.

Joe’s hands slid up and down her arms in a caressing touch that had her eyes wanting to close her eyes in sheer pleasure, but then he expelled a long, shuddery breath, let go of her, and got out to walk her up.

“That isn’t necessary,” she said.

“Someone’s taunting you with a personal memory and they know where you live. They’re just playing with you right now, but that could change. I’m walking you up.”

She sighed. She hated that he was logical and reasonable when she couldn’t be. “Fine,” she said and relented. “And thank you.” Then they got to her apartment, where she unlocked her door and froze at the sight of yet another envelope on the floor.