"There." Mary pointed to a faint paw print in the soil. Anxiety knotted her chest. While she grieved for the loss of her ewe, her fear for the rest of her flock occupied her every waking thought. "I found a whole trail of them yesterday morning after Elle was killed."

"That's definitely a coyote track. Did you take a cast?" Demetri knelt down on one knee to inspect the imprint that had been left in moist soil.

"No, I should've but I don't have plaster on hand. Unfortunately, that's the only one left." She spread her hands in a silent apology.

The flock only numbered sixty ewes. Mary winced. No, make that fifty-nine now. That was two-hundred and thirty-six hooves that'd trampled the same path three times since the attack. The single paw print had only survived thanks to its location beneath the railings that separated the barn from the front yard. The area beyond consisted of grass all the way to the gravel driveway. She'd looked but hadn't found any more tracks.

"I'm sure you had all you could handle." Demetri straightened and faced her. "The sheep were bedded down in the barn overnight?"

"Since the divorce started, I bring them into the barn every night even during the spring and summer. It's a lot of extra work, but I hoped it'd keep them safe." Her chest tightened. Obviously, she'd been wrong. Even the security of the barn couldn't protect the sheep from a coyote-shifter capable of opening locked doors.

"Let's walk down to the pasture," Demetri suggested. "I'd like to check on the flock, make sure they're accepting Colleen without any problems."

"Okay." Mary started down the path toward the south field where the sheep were grazing. "For the record, Colleen has my vote of confidence. Even if one of my ewes were to get uppity, Colleen didn't strike me as the sort of dog who'd tolerate any attitude."

Demetri chuckled. "I'm sure you're right, but humor me anyway."

"That's why we're walking," Mary replied with droll amusement. She stole a sly, sideways glance at the man walking beside her.

Daylight adored Demetri, enhancing his natural good looks in heavenly ways. In the sunshine, his hair shone like spun gold, and the frisky breeze tousled his locks with the playfulness of lover. His blue eyes gleamed brighter; his tanned, ripped body befitted a Greek god. The man radiated courage and charisma. He burned brighter than normal men and cast a long shadow. In comparison, normal men appeared lesser, including Quentin.

Especially Quentin.

Her ex-husband's mean-spirited revelation had opened Mary's eyes, but Demetri himself formed her outlook. Now that she knew, she couldn't believe she hadn't sensed Demetri's shifter-nature the moment they'd met. Mary got lightheaded and giddy just being around him. She longed for the heat of his mouth and the rapture of his lover's embrace. Why, oh why, had she made celibacy a requirement of his employment? What the heck had she been thinking?

"Mary?" Demetri snapped his fingers in front of her face.

She blinked and snapped back to reality. Belatedly, she realized they'd reached the south field gate. But she had no idea how long it'd been since they'd stopped or how long they'd been standing there.

"Are you okay?" Demetri wore a puzzled expression and she got the distinct impression he was waiting for something.

"Yes, I'm okay!" Mary sputtered and a blush swept her face. She swore she hadn't been sizing Demetri up like a prize stud, and damn Quentin for putting that image in her head! No matter how hard Mary tried, she couldn't stop speculating on the upper limit of Demetri's sexual endurance. His performance last night had been unbelievable. She had to wonder how much he'd been holding back.

Thank goodness shifters couldn't read minds. Demetri was already too arrogant for his own good. If he knew what she was thinking, the man would be grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you sure? You seem...bothered by something." Demetri used a husky tone she'd heard before, his bedroom voice. A smug little smirk played on his lips.

Fiddlesticks! She'd leapt to conclusions too fast! Her flush escalated from medium-warm to a four-alarm fire. She would've bet the farm the glow on her cheeks could be seen two miles off.

"Yes, I'm fine," she asserted in her most forceful no-nonsense manner. "What did you ask me?"

Still smiling, Demetri unlatched the gate and swung it open. "I asked why you've only brought them into the barn since your divorce. Are coyotes new to this area?"

Shit, she'd slipped up.

"No, coyotes aren't new to this area." Mary stared into his eyes and read understanding there. So the question went from whether to tell Demetri about Quentin to how much she wanted to say. To give herself time to think, she delayed answering while she entered the pasture and waited for him to secure the gateway.

Their arrival attracted attention. The nearest ewe lifted her head and hustled toward them, her fluffy tail wagging. Naturally, the motion of one sheep signaled the start of a trotting-stampede. A chorus of friendly baas arose from the flock in greeting, and a barking Colleen came last.

Mary opened her arms to the lead ewe. "Hello, Sweet Pea!"

Sweet Pea ran straight to Demetri. Begging for attention, the ewe butted against Demetri's legs while he laughed and patted Sweet Pea's head. Unsurprisingly, the entire herd bypassed their mistress and swarmed Demetri. Only Colleen came to Mary, and that might've only been because she couldn't get close to her master for the wall of wool.

"Ingrates," Mary muttered, stroking Colleen's silky head. The metallic taste of irony filled her mouth, and for the first time, it occurred to her that her own blasted herd might present competition for Demetri's attention.

So many levels of wrongness, she couldn't even count.

"Hey, now, don't be mean. These ladies are just being friendly." Demetri snickered and waded through the ocean of white fleece.

Colleen barked once—a short and to-the-point ruff. Mary interpreted it as a sign the cattle dog had taken her side.

Mary sighed, still rubbing Colleen's silky ears between her fingers. "The reason I never worried about coyotes in the past was because this was Quentin's territory. You might find this difficult to believe, but Quentin is a coyote-shifter. He's the leader of the local band."

An unnatural stillness seemed to settle over Demetri, and he appraised her with apparent canny caution. Her heart beat double-time while the seconds ticked past. She'd taken a wild chance in admitting the truth to him. But they confronted the real test of trust now—would Demetri extend her the same courtesy that she'd shown him?

"I recognized Quentin for what he is when we met," Demetri said in a low voice. "He has a predatory air."

"Predatory air... Yeah, that's about the sum of it," Mary said with a snort. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

She waited with bated breath and clung to the fragile optimism that Demetri would come clean about himself. Five simple words, "Mary, I'm a shifter, too." That's all it required. Then, she'd advise him she already knew, and they could move forward with an honest discussion.

Seconds slipped past and then Demetri said, "I wanted to, but I didn't know how you'd react. An hour before, you'd just gotten mad at me for meddling in your life. It seemed prudent to wait awhile before I did it again."

The sinking sensation of disappointment dragged Mary down. A dark cloud engulfed her. Not the ending she'd hoped for, but it was the one she'd expected. Lucky for her, she was pragmatic above all else.

"Okay, I suppose that's a good reason." Mary nodded heavily and crossed her arms over her chest. She considered long and hard, and then made the practical decision. "I met Quentin about six months after my mother passed away. I was vulnerable and Quentin was handsome and charming. He made me feel safe and special..." Mary talked fast, rushing to spill the whole sorry story before she chickened out.

Demetri scowled. "Mary, you don't have to—"

"I do." She thrust out a staying hand. "If you're going to work for me, you have to understand the danger."

"All right." He nodded for her to continue.

She took a deep breath and wished for a shot of liquid courage. The bright sunshine bathed them in merciless light. The open meadow offered no shadowy places to hide.

"Quentin took me through a whirlwind courtship. It happened so fast I barely had time to think. He convinced me that he really cared for me. I thought I loved him." She winced to recall what a fool she'd been then.

"Did you?" Demetri demanded.

She jerked her head up and met his gaze. Her lips parted in confusion.

"Did you love him?"

Mary hesitated. Once upon a time, she'd believed she adored Quentin, but hindsight granted her perfect clarity. Her infatuation with Quentin had been just that: a transitory crush. Staring into Demetri's face now, she met real fear. Through a window into his soul, she gazed into passion that burned a thousand times hotter than anything she'd ever felt for her ex-husband. Desire—a inferno with the potential to consume her whole and leave behind nothing but ash.

"I thought I did. I don't anymore," she said softly.

Demetri grunted. A tic worked the corner of his jaw, but her answer appeared to appease him for the moment.

"We were married less than two weeks before Quentin dropped the mask and showed his true face. It started with him making mean little quips to hurt my feelings. When I called him on it, he'd act surprised and pretend I'd misunderstood. It took me a month to figure out he was cheating with his secretary. Of course, the bastard was sleeping with her the whole time he was pretending to be in love with me. Our marriage was shorter than our engagement. I threw Quentin off the ranch and filed for divorce. The divorce is final, but I still don't seem to be able to get him out of my life."

"Mary," Demetri said softly.

Mary turned away because she couldn't stand to see the sympathy in Demetri's gaze. She didn't need his pity. She wanted him to perceive her as a confident, capable woman, but too late. That ship had sailed.

Gathering her courage, she faced him again. "When I told Quentin I was leaving him, he called me a bitch. The abuse kept getting worse from there."

"Did he hurt you? If he laid a finger on you, I'll kill him." Anger burned in his blue eyes. He stood with his stance squared, his fists clenched, looking ready to commit murder. Demetri wore fierce protectiveness like shining armor. Her heart tripped and raced, and awe struck her a mighty blow. Never before in her entire life had a man shown so much concern for her.

Through an act of will, Mary exerted her mind over her heart, and set aside the wild, romantic rush of her emotions. Sternly, she reminded herself that Demetri was her employee, not her hero.

"No, he's never harmed me personally, but he has made veiled threats. And..." Her voice cracked, forcing her to halt. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. "He killed Elle, Demetri. The bastard practically bragged about it. Quentin has this twisted notion that he can force me to come back to him. He won't stop with one sheep and he won't hesitate to hurt you, either. If you're going to come to work for me, you have to be fully aware of the risk."

"Oh, he'll stop." Demetri narrowed his eyes, speaking in no uncertain terms. "If Quentin shows his ugly face around here again, it'll be the last thing he does."