Adam exhaled slowly. Hell, that was close. “Stay a moment, okay?” He went to the barbecue area and retrieved a couple of outdoor lanterns he’d seen earlier. He set them on the small table beside the daybed and lit them. Their flickering light released a soft, comforting illumination. He touched the side of the teapot. Still warm. Taking Marlo’s cup, he ditched her cold tea onto the grass, poured her a fresh cup and added some sugar.

“I don’t take sugar.”

“Tonight you do. It’s good for shock. Here, drink.” He watched her trembling hand reach for the tea. “And don’t break the mug.” He smiled.

Her attempt to smile was an exhausted failure. She took a sip of the tea and grimaced.

“Lukewarm and sickly sweet, eh?”

She nodded.

“That’s what the doctor ordered.”

“I hate medicine.”

“Medicine’s not meant to taste good. If it did, we would take it all the time so we’d become dependent instead of getting better.”

She was watching him and everything about her said caution. God, those eyes. He wanted to reach right into them and take the hurt away.

Now he had to think quickly. She might feel finishing her tea would be a logical conclusion to the evening. He wanted her to feel in control, but not that much control. He took himself back to an earlier conversation with Mae.

Observe how Marlo works with the dogs.

When he and Marlo had watched the Justice DVD, she’d told him to look out for the moment when Justice had become uncomfortable. From there, she’d backed up to a place where the dog was okay—where he was at ease with her touch. She would then take the dog back to that place before finishing the session.

He reached and took the tea mug from her. Peering inside, he could see she’d drunk half. “I think you’re done with that,” he said, placing the mug on the table. He settled back onto the daybed, this time a little closer to her. She had her knees tucked up to her chest, her dress pulled firmly down to cover them, one hand clutching at the hem by her ankles. He took a moment to follow the shape and line of her ankles. Exercise restraint.

“I’m going to put my arm around you now, and I want you to shift up against me.” When he reached around her she tensed. “Come on,” he encouraged, beckoning with an open arm. “Here, to me.”

She edged up against him and he kept still until a subtle give in her shoulders, the lowering by a mere inch from where she’d held them taut, suggested she was starting to relax.

“Good, that’s the way,” he murmured. He started to stroke her upper arm and she relaxed more. He willed his breathing to stay low and calm as she began to nestle against him. Slowly he let his fingers stray up toward her neck, waiting for the first sign of alarm, but she remained motionless. He traced his fingertips lightly along the smooth skin of her jaw line and listened to her breath quicken. Any earlier arousal had flattened, and all he could see was the tightly coiled way she held herself.

“Take control of your breathing. Slow it down.”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Yes, you can. Do it for me. Breathe in deep through your nose, hold for a count of two, then out through your mouth. Concentrate on slow, deep breaths.” He waited as her breathing gradually adjusted to his own rhythm. “There you go. You’re good at this, honey.” Her eyes had closed. He stilled his hand and they flew open. “That’s it, eyes open. Stay with me here.”

She nodded.

“Where’s your stress on the ten scale? Ten being about to shatter into a million pieces, one being close to sleep.”

“Seven.” She paused. “It’s six.”

“Thank you for reconsidering. Let’s see if we can get a four or five. Stay with the slow breathing.” The fact she reconsidered told him she wanted to beat this as much as he did. He slipped his fingers down so that they rested on her neck, thumb on one side, two fingers on the other. She stiffened, her pulse rapid. “Deep breath now and relax.” As she exhaled, her chin fell so that it rested on the back of his hand, cushioned in the curve between his thumb and forefinger.

With his hand at her neck she would have felt vulnerable, yet the way she had dropped into it suggested a sliver of trust had built between them. He concentrated on his own breathing, keeping it slow, keeping her quiet. “When you’re ready, give me another number?”

“Four,” she whispered.

“Better.” He moved his other hand to her forehead and slowly stroked it down until he covered her eyes. He held it there feeling the flutter of her eyelashes tickling his palm before she settled and kept them closed. After a moment he continued the slide of his hand down her face. His fingers cupped one cheek as his thumb brushed across her lips. “Tell me about the person who hurt you.”

Don’t, please, don’t ask me that.

The question pulled her out of her reverie when she wanted to stay in this zoned-out state he’d put her in. She wanted to lie there and let him stroke her face for a bit before pretending that caress was happening to somebody else.

Carl Hanson hurt me. Len Barrett hurt me. They were cops. Shall I go on?

She shook her head. No. No, she wouldn’t tell him anything.

“Have you told anyone?”

She nodded.

“Does Mae know?”

“Yes,” she managed.

“Have you had any counseling?”

“A little. It didn’t go so well.” He’d taken his hand from her neck and rested it on her upper arm, his index finger making small circles. Her chest tightened and her breathing once again became quick and shallow.

“Marlo?”

“Adam, I’m afraid.”

“I’m right here with you. You’re safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” She was grounded again.

“As I make this circle on your arm I want you to take a breath in through a complete cycle and exhale on the next. Yes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Keep doing that.”

She concentrated on his finger circling his arm and noticed it slowed with the completion of each circuit. The simple technique drew the tension up from her chest and out of her mouth. “Five,” she whispered to him, unbidden.

“Thank you.” He changed his circling to a grip on her arm and pulled her closer. “I don’t want to push you, Marlo. But I will anyway, because that’s how I operate. What I see here is that your entire life is focused on fixing the dogs and it’s taking every ounce of your energy. Every ounce of you. You immerse yourself in releasing the dogs’ demons because it takes the heat off you having to deal with your own. But you are missing so much in your life. What happens when a guy comes along? Do you simply back him off?”

“I guess…”

“And how’s that working for you?”

Why couldn’t he get pissed with her like guys usually did? Why hadn’t he stormed out of the house, called her a nutcase, or a cock-tease? Then she could hate him and move on. What started as a rock in her chest was threatening to dissolve into tears. How was that working for Her? Really fine until he turned up.

“Marlo?”

“It works. You’re not around for long, so you don’t get the right to come here and mess with my head.”

“That’s true. I am only here for a short bit. I can't promise you anything, any future, but I’m not trying to mess with your head. I’d really like to help you, to be your gateway person. I'd never be flippant with your emotions, but maybe if you’d open up to me, together we can make things better for you.”

Deep within, she clung to the rumble of his voice that rolled and soothed her anxious soul, but she’d strapped down her shame a long time ago. Any attempt to release those bindings would cause her to lose her balance. “I’m quite happy with the way things are.”

“And who did you think you were going to fool with that brave statement?” He was smiling at her and she let him slip a strand of hair behind her ear. Without flinching.

“Is that what you tell yourself each day? That you’re happy? I watched Lulah at dinner the other night. She keeps her eye on you, but I bet you’ve never shared anything with her.”

“I don’t want to burden anyone.”

“I understand that. Moreover, it’s very considerate of you, but sometimes friends are burdened by what you keep locked away rather than what you share. Caught within Lulah’s bubbly, happy exterior is a person who wants to help you. Talk to her.”

“I can’t. Things might accidentally spill out.” That was more of an admission than she’d intended to make. She felt his stillness, but what really surprised her was that she had become so attuned to his breathing. He released his held breath as if he had arrived at a decision and in the next moment, took hold of her shoulder with one hand, and her opposite arm with the other. His knee nudged her upper hip and she rolled to her back as he lay on top of her. He smoothed her arms down her sides, placing her hands palm-down alongside her. She spread her fingers wide, ready to grip the coverlet and his hands covered hers, held them in place until she relaxed.

With his pelvis aligned to hers, he had enough height to rest his elbows above her shoulders. She could feel him now, the thick strength of his thighs pressed to hers, the buckle on his belt, his tight stomach, his hard chest against her breasts. She looked into the deep dark lake of his eyes, taking courage from the compassion she found there as she fought off the frisson of fear. When he nestled his pelvis into her, his hardness surprised her.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Anxious. I’m feeling a seven.” She didn’t even have to contemplate that reply because she could feel herself preparing to run.

“There’s no need to be anxious because this is all I’m going to do. I’m going to cover you and protect you.”

She tested a wriggle to see if she could move out from underneath him but he managed to somehow make himself heavier so that she stayed pinned. “But you…”

“What?”

“I can feel…you’re hard, you have an erection.”

He stroked the hair away from her forehead and smiled gently. “And you think that means that I’m going to take what I want and fuck you. Or that I’m going to coerce you into pleasing me. Is that right?”

The crudeness of his words after such a gentle touch shocked her. Her face heated and her throat tightened as the first burning pressure behind her eyes threatened tears. She nodded. He was right, that’s exactly what she thought.

The tender brush of his thumbs warmed her cheek. His eyes had darkened. “Is that how it’s always been?” His voice was remarkably soft.

I don’t want to cry, not in front of him. What’s happened to me? Why can’t I control this anymore? When she tried to turn her head away she came up against the cradle of his hands.

“I thought so,” he continued. “Some men, Marlo, are despicable selfish assholes caring only about their own instant gratification. I’m so sorry you’ve met them. Most of us, thankfully, are completely capable of self-control even when aroused by a beautiful woman like you. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she nodded. Of course she understood, but it didn’t change the way she responded. It didn’t remove the anger and ugliness held tight and bound inside. How many times did she have to tell herself she wasn’t to blame before she would believe it?

He rolled her again so that they were side-by-side. “Come on, let’s hold each other, as friends. I won’t ask for anything more.” His arms wrapped around her and she returned the embrace. The broadness of his back was like a protective barrier giving her courage. When his hand cupped the back of her head she let him tuck it into that space under his shoulder, against his heart.

“Trust me,” he told her, “I won’t let you fall.”

* * *

Marlo sorted through a load of dog blankets and towels for the washing machine. The laundry room at the kennels was one place you could guarantee privacy. They weren’t queuing at the door to get in. Some of this recent group of interns were not the sharpest sticks in the woodpile, and others had an overinflated sense of importance. Either way, basic chores were being missed.

The other night she had fallen asleep in Adam’s arms, waking when he’d picked her up to carry her through to her bed. Despite her protests about being carried, despite her insistence she needed to see to the dogs, he continued to her bedroom. He had placed her carefully on the bed and said he would take care of the dogs while she prepared for bed and that he would be back to say goodnight.

When he returned, he said that Fala and Justice were sharing a dog bed, again. That seemed to answer the question about Justice for her. The time had arrived for him to move to the house from the quarantine kennel.

Adam had sat on the edge of her bed and even now, she could feel how the covers had pulled and tightened beneath his weight as if he’d bound her to the mattress. He had suggested sweet dreams then touched his lips to her cheek and left.

She hauled a clean load of towels from the dryer and dumped it on the table for folding. The resounding clatter told her she’d managed to knock her phone to the floor. Again. She retrieved it and after a quick glance at the screen, pushed it into the back pocket of her pants. The message tally was growing.

With the last of the clean laundry folded, Marlo hoisted herself onto the table and started working through her messages. Jarrod, one of the interns, had left a message to say he wouldn’t be back—probably the daily mountain of washing had become the Everest he would never conquer. At least Lulah wouldn’t be sorry to hear that news. Jarrod, and his quirks, as she’d called them, took more of Lulah’s time than the rest of the interns combined.

There were four messages from Adam. Her stomach did a small flip. Four messages and one invitation—a bunch of them from the precinct were having a party the following day. Would she join them? Them? Who are they?

Marlo’s instinct was to turn him down even though in one text he told her they were celebrating his birthday. She wasn’t that comfortable in a social situation where she would probably know only one member of the group. And, let’s face it, there would be way too many cops there for her liking. All that male ego wrapped up in uniform was bad enough, but when it came repackaged in civilian clothes and liberated for social occasions, it could be frightening.

She was stuffing another load of washing into the machine when Adam called.

“Why can’t you come?” he asked.

“I never said I couldn’t come.”

“You’re taking your time to reply. That suggests you’re composing a ‘no’ message.”

She laughed. “You’re too suspicious. That’s what being a cop does to you.”

“So why aren’t you coming?”

She wanted to explain that she didn’t hang out in town. Because groups of cops scared her. And because Adam scared her for different reasons. “I’m staying in to wash my hair.”

“Pathetic. You can’t even dish up a decent excuse. If you’re worried about driving, I can get someone to pick you up. I’d do it myself but I’m in meetings until kick-off.”

“Gosh, no, don’t send anyone. I’ll drive.”

“Good, so you’re going to come.”

She straightened the towels into a neat stack. “I never agreed to that.”

“Come on, have a drink with me.” His voice had softened.

“I won’t know anybody.” Perhaps giving voice to one concern would get her off the hook.

“You’ll know me, and I won’t leave you, okay?”

Maybe she could be brave. It might even be fun. “Okay.” She put down the phone. There had been the small note of triumph when he told her goodbye, and yeah, the idea that she had pleased him had warmed her. Just a tiny bit. She had to get her head back to the dogs. This was ridiculous.

* * *

Butterflies might look pretty, but this bunch doing circuits and bumps inside her made her sick in her stomach. Desperate to arrive in at least a moderate state of calm, she’d pulled over to the side of the road and worked on a few calming techniques. Two minutes into the recommended ten-minute chill, she was razor-edgy and her mind was performing more flips than an aerobatics display.

She took herself through a breathing routine that she couldn’t quite zone into and managed to make herself dizzy and nauseous.

She checked her watch. Great, twenty-minutes late, and all she’d managed to do was add tardiness to her list of stressors. It looked as if tranquil and soporific were off the menu for now. She started the car engine and continued on her way.

Think about pleasurable things. Rainbows, fluffy puppies, fields of flowers, butterflies…dammit, here come the butterflies again.

Even the parking angel had abandoned her, and she lost more time driving around, looking for a place to park. She finally parallel parked several streets from the bar. Not cool with her shoes, killer heels and tight toes. Oh, for sensible ballet flats.

At last, she reached the wine bar and paused at the door. The noisy rumble of a party well on its way assaulted her. Sometimes a late entrance could be tough to pull off. People glanced up and, not recognizing her, returned to their already-formed groups. A couple of men stared but she ignored them and searched for Adam. She finally spotted him with a small group, and a gorgeous redhead attached firmly to his arm. He looked up and she saw the quick flash of warmth in his eyes as he dislodged the Scarlet Limpet and waved her over.

Focusing on Adam—and staying upright in her shoes—Marlo crossed the room. He stepped away from the group and, as she approached, took her arm and pulled her into him.

“You look gorgeous,” he said firmly before kissing her. His mouth was confident and possessive without a trace of the governing device he’d employed the other evening.

Finally, they parted. “You look gorgeous, too. Especially with my lipstick smeared all over your lips. That color suits you. Remind me to give you the name…and happy birthday.”

“Mr. President? Because that dress…”

She nudged him with her elbow. “In your dreams!”

With a firm hold still on her arm, Adam pulled her closer as he bent into her again. “If I could, I’d ditch this lot and take you somewhere, just you and me.”

A warm feeling spread through her, because for Marlo, his intent was enough.

He turned her around, drawing her into the group of his friends. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Marlo tried to follow as he worked his way through a series of nicknames and real names. Many faces were familiar from around town, but not all. By the time he’d gone around everyone, she’d attached dog breeds to each person. Except she was so nervous she hadn’t taken in anybody’s name. So where she would usually be able to recall Tina the Tiny Terrier and Chris the Cross Collie, all she had were things like Droopy Spaniel Guy and Flirty French Poodle…and the Scarlet Limpet, who had yet to earn herself a place in dogdom. In fact, the Scarlet Limpet looked positively toxic. Marlo gave her what she hoped was a winning smile and failed to get one in return.

“Wait there. I’ll get you a drink,” Adam said and headed for the bar.

The Scarlet Limpet looked her up and down before settling on a ‘no contest’ attitude. “So how do you know Adam?”

“Work,” Marlo replied. “And you?”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends. How nice.” Marlo turned to the bar. Patrons were crammed together, standing two deep, waiting for service. She was tired already of the Limpet, so she scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. At that moment, she saw the two guys, deep in conversation, exiting the men’s restroom. One peeled off to the bar, and the other made his way across the room.

Her chest tightened while her heart seemed to be calling out for more space, to pound harder. As the rush of panic threatened to envelop her, she fought for every ounce of air, trying to suck it through her narrowing throat. Scanning the room for Adam, she saw him trapped in the crowd at the bar. The man continued to make his way toward the group, and Marlo turned to the Limpet.

“Please, would you tell Adam I had to leave?”

“Tell him yourself, honey. You’ll have to pass him at the bar when you go.” The Limpet’s smile was one of triumph.

Marlo was stricken. She couldn’t explain this to Adam, and she just needed to get out of there fast, because in seconds Len Barrett was going to walk right past her. The last time he’d done that, he’d sworn to have his revenge in the worst possible way.