Sharon cast a sidelong glance at Robert, admiring his classic profile without him noticing.

It was rare to meet a guy so handsome who at the same time was so unassuming. He seemed surprised every time she spoke to him, as if he wasn't used to female attention, which was highly unlikely.

But then Sharon suspected that Robert had served in the armed forces for most of his adult life and had been discharged only recently. Which might have been responsible for his lack of flirting experience. His military past was evident in his posture, his short haircut, and his rigidity. Even in the polite way he talked, like he was used to deferring to others.

On a more subtle level, or her sixth sense as Sharon liked to think of it, she sensed darkness in him.

Except, there was more. She also sensed honor, compassion, and loyalty.

Was Robert a good man with a dark past?

Or was he a bad man who was trying to live a better life?

It was hard to tell. The guy who appeared so simple on the surface had layers upon layers of inner workings. A mystery worthy of Sharon's inquisitive nature.

"I fold." Robert threw his cards on the table.

No wonder. His pile of pennies was almost depleted.

"Me too." Sharon added her cards to the discards pile even though they weren't all that bad. They weren't great either, but definitely not good enough to miss an opportunity to have a few moments alone with Robert while the others were still busy playing.

Robert eyed Sharon's pile of pennies and lifted a brow. "You were doing well. Why did you fold?"

"You got to know when to hold 'em, and know when to fold 'em." Sharon pushed her chair back and got up. "Come on, let's go out to the backyard for some fresh air. The smell of incense is making me nauseous."

Looking uncomfortable, Robert followed her out to Eva's backyard, or rather a patio. It was too small to be called a backyard, but it was nicely outfitted with a loveseat swing, a built-in barbecue, and a round table for eating outside.

Sharon sat on the swing, and after a moment's hesitation, Robert joined her.

She gave a gentle push to start the swing's motion, but Robert's feet were firmly planted on the grass, and the thing didn't move even an inch.

The guy looked like he'd never sat on a swing before.

"Give it a little push," she told him.

He looked at her legs and copied her moves. "Like this?"

"Yes. Exactly."

For a couple of minutes, they just swung back and forth, each waiting for the other to start a conversation. Sharon because she often talked too much and wanted to give Robert a chance to say a few words before monopolizing it, and Robert because he was apparently too anxious or too awkward to do so.

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked.

He let out a breath. "I've been accused of that."

"Accused? Are you telling me that a girl had a problem with you not wanting to talk about yourself incessantly?"

He nodded. "Women find me boring."

Poor guy. He had met the wrong kind of girls.

"Well, I prefer a good listener to a blabbermouth. I can't stand guys who only want to talk about themselves and are not interested in anything I have to say."

Tilting his head, he looked at her with his big brown eyes. "What makes someone a good listener?"

"Paying attention to what the other person is telling them, being genuinely interested in what the person has to say, and remembering details from the story at least for a few days."

"Then I am a very good listener. I never forget what someone tells me, especially if it's personal. I thought it meant that I have a good memory."

"It does, but if you weren't paying attention in the first place, you could not have memorized what you haven't heard, right?"

"That is a good observation." Robert leaned back against the loveseat's cushions, his shoulder muscles visibly loosening.

"When were you discharged?"

Robert's muscles immediately tensed back up. "Discharged? From where?"

"The military, of course."

"Why do you think I was in the military?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine, but it is written all over you that you were a soldier for many years. Did you serve in some secret unit you are not allowed to talk about?"

He rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. "Something like that."