FOR A WOMAN SOMEONE WAS trying to kill, Sophie’s days had slipped into an amazingly peaceful routine. If she was lucky, she woke to the sound of Emerson in the shower and had enough time to join him. Now that he’d shown her the joys of shower sex, she intended to indulge in it as often as possible. After they dried off, he kissed her good-bye and headed downstairs to his office and she went back to her pearls.

Knowing she was creating something for someone Emerson loved added another layer of emotion to the bridal set. She’d found a picture of his sister on the hall table and moved it to her workspace so she could see the woman who’d wear the jewelry. It didn’t change the design—not exactly—it just informed the choices she made about how to put it together. She’d opted for delicate matching drop earrings that would look perfect with Amanda’s dark-brown hair and added a few more flowers to the necklace so it would lay lower across the other woman’s toned shoulders. Part of her wanted to see Amanda wearing her jewelry on the big day, but another part—the more realistic part—realized it was unlikely she and Emerson would still be seeing each other in six months, let alone that he’d take her to his sister’s wedding.

They had a shelf life, and if it made her sad to think of things ending, she could use all those orgasms to distract herself. Honestly, the man was as skilled a lover as he was everything else he did. She hadn’t known some of the things he’d done with his tongue were even possible, and she’d called on God so many times over the past week, it was like her own personal revival. Emerson set the bar so high for her first time; she had a hard time imagining anyone else being able to keep up.

She loved sex as much as she’d hoped she would, but she’d had enough fumbling near misses to know her pleasure had more to do with the man she was with than simply the act itself. It wasn’t his technique—and the man knew what he was doing—it was the way he looked in her eyes as he moved inside her. The way he made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. As if she were the only woman in the world for him, even though she knew that couldn’t be true. They hadn’t said I love you, and they weren’t going to, but what she felt with him was surprisingly close. Emerson made her feel cherished and on top of everything else he’d done for her, it was a gift she’d treasure forever.

Since she couldn’t put what she felt into words without terrifying both of them, she poured her feelings into the jewelry for his sister. Fastening the final jump ring on the drop earrings, she covered the set with a velvet cloth to protect it and stood and stretched. She’d worked through lunch again and as soon as she had the thought, her stomach woke with a vengeance. There was still some of Mrs. Southerland’s chili in the fridge and a round crusty loaf of whole grain bread. It had probably gone a bit stale, but that made it perfect for her purposes.

She washed her hands and then dug around in the kitchen drawers for aluminum foil. Before she found the foil, she stumbled on a drawer of extra dish towels and a Kiss the Cook apron. The blue cotton cloth was so clean and folded so neatly, it had to be a gift, and it gave her an idea for a gift of her own. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. If Emerson was late, she’d feel silly, but it was a chance she was willing to take.

Moving fast so she didn’t run out of time, she grabbed butter, grated cheese, and a shaker of garlic-herb seasoning mix. She doubted butter and cheese were on the man’s menu when she wasn’t around. There wasn’t an extra ounce of fat on him. She’d personally traced the peaks and valleys of his six-pack with her tongue. Buttery goodness be damned, the bread was the only thing she really knew how to make. It was delicious, and she’d be more than happy to offer him a way to work off the extra calories.

Using the big serrated bread knife, she sliced the loaf, being careful not to cut the whole way through. She turned the loaf ninety degrees and repeated the process until it looked like a whole wheat hedgehog and then she crammed the softened butter, cheese, and seasonings she’d mixed together into all the nooks and crannies. She wrapped the bread in the foil and popped it into the oven.

By the time she got the chili into a saucepan on the stove, the apartment had started to fill with the cheesy garlic aroma and it was almost time for Emerson to get home. Shoving the detritus from her culinary adventure into the sink, she grabbed the apron and bolted for the bathroom. Slicking some gloss on her lips, she piled her hair up in a messy bun, stripped naked, and donned the apron. She’d just managed to arrange herself on one of the barstools when she heard the door open.

“Sophie, I’m home.”

She shouldn’t like the way that sounded as much as she did. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she heard Emerson move through the apartment.

“God, it smells good in here.” He walked through the doorway and then froze when he saw her waiting for him.

“I cooked.” She uncrossed her legs, arching her back and letting one of her knees fall open, baring herself to his hungry gaze.

“I see that.” He swallowed hard and she bit her bottom lip, loving being the one to rattle him. “Nice apron.”

“You like it?” She fiddled with the straps, giving him a glimpse of her already hard nipples.

“Very much.” He set his laptop bag and a stack of papers he’d been carrying on the counter and then dropped to his knees in front of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked, feeling her control of the situation slip away.

“You cooked.” He rested her thighs on his shoulders and pushed the apron up until it bunched around her waist. “I’m eating.”

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SOPHIE NAKED IN his kitchen. Sophie naked in his bed. Sophie in his arms, her clear blue gaze pinned to his as he took her over and over again. He saw her everywhere, felt her everywhere. In a few short weeks, she’d worked her way into every part of Emerson’s life and instead of feeling trapped or crowded, he couldn’t wait to get home to her. Seeing Sophie, waking up with her and then falling asleep with her wrapped around him was the very best part of his day.

He glanced across the kitchen island at her wearing one of his Southerland Security shirts, and his heart squeezed tight. He’d discarded the shirt when he stripped down, desperate to be inside her. Too desperate to bother with things like a bed. The polo swallowed her, and he fucking loved the idea of her being wrapped up in something of his, surrounded by him even when he wasn’t touching her.

“What?” she asked, a creased forming between her brows.

“Just enjoying the view.”

She smiled and his heart did that new flip thing it seemed to be partial to. He loved making her smile.

“Me too.” With her gaze on his bare chest—he’d only bothered to slip on his jeans before they ate—she licked the back of her spoon and a significant chunk of his cognitive energy shifted to Sophie’s pretty pink tongue and all the other things she’d licked.

He really was a dirty old man. The thing was with Sophie, he didn’t feel old anymore. He felt every one of his thirty-six years but not one year more. Even though he was still doing the same kind of work at basically the same pace, spending time with her made his stress melt away. Dirty, however, was a given. He couldn’t keep his hands off her and honestly, he wasn’t that interested in trying.

“Brat.” Heat flared in her eyes at the nickname, and he reached for some of her delicious bread to keep from reaching for her. “I do actually need to talk to you.”

He’d been putting it off because he wasn’t sure how she’d react to what he had to say. As soon as she’d told him about her past, he’d started looking for connections.  The new information opened lines of inquiry he hadn’t had before and suddenly the gap in her life between her birth and magical reappearance in her late teens started to make sense. He had Gabe digging into things in Australia and pestering him every fifteen minutes to let him fly halfway across the world on the company’s dime for research.

All they’d been able to piece together so far was some sketchy information on the pearl farm where she said she grew up. There were actually two properties that matched the description she’d given that were close enough to the address she told him to be contenders. He had some photos—thank you, Google Earth—and as soon as she could ID the right property, he could keep digging.

“So talk.” She ripped off a chunk of bread and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes drifted shut in pleasure, and he had to fight to keep from becoming derailed. It was almost as if every time he tried to steer them to something serious, she found a way to hide, and usually with something that involved sex.

Or not. He might be completely wrong about that. Lord knew his mind continuously drifted to sex where she was concerned and there was no use reading anything into it, at least not beyond the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands off her. And he’d had some experience, admittedly nothing like what it felt like with Sophie, but everything was new for her. He knew her well enough to realize she didn’t share her feelings or her past easily. If she hadn’t opened up to his mother, there were a whole lot of things he might never have known. It made sense that she’d turn away from the things she didn’t want to talk about and toward the things she wanted to do. He was just happy he was the one she wanted to do them with.

“I need you to look at some pictures for me.” He reached for the folder he’d left on the counter, sucking in a breath as the cold granite came in contact with his bare skin.

Sophie giggled but the laughter died in her throat when he set the photos in front of her. He didn’t have to ask if she recognized the property or which one it was. She wore the answer like a billboard across her face. His new question was what in the world had happened to her there to put that fear in her eyes. It was fleeting. He’d have missed it if he hadn’t been watching so intently, but it had been there and in a funny way, it seemed stronger than when she’d been getting shot at.

“That’s it.” Without touching it, her finger hovered over the cluster of buildings surrounded by shaggy-looking palm trees and turquoise water, more green than blue. It was almost as if she was scared it would bite.

“I was afraid of that.” He paused a moment before scooping the photos up and slipping them back into the folder.

As soon as the photos disappeared from sight, Sophie shook herself, as if to clear her head.

“Afraid? Why?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Her look telegraphed her disbelief, but she didn’t push. That more than anything showed him how shaken she was by the photograph.

“Why did you leave, Sophie? Tell me exactly what happened. It was more than just losing Noah.” It wasn’t a question, and he could tell by her expression she wouldn’t dispute it.

She let out a sigh so shaky; it tore at his heart. Needing to touch her, to offer comfort but not wanting to distract either of them, he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“I told you about my mother getting sick.” It was a statement, nothing more, but he could hear the pain in her voice and knew the words were a poor substitute for the truth of her story.

He nodded rather than say anything, but she wasn’t looking at him. He hated making her relive something painful, but if he was going to eliminate the threat, he needed to know.

“She died and Noah took over the household stuff. He and I were still pretty much in shock. We weren’t paying very much attention to anything beyond getting up, getting to school, and eating every day. Some days we didn’t even manage that. I’m not sure either of us realized we might need to pay attention to anything else. It wouldn’t have mattered.” She shook her head again. Almost as if she were trying to convince herself. “By the time either of us bothered to pay any attention to the pearl farm, Uncle Jack had taken over the day-to-day operations. He wasn’t related to us,” she clarified before he could open his mouth to ask. “More like a family friend. Mum had always trusted him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, that’s probably not the relevant part.”

It was more relevant than she knew but he wasn’t ready to tell her what he’d found. Not until she finished with her story. He waited, and she glanced in his direction, still lost in her memories but with him enough to give a tentative smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, and he hated himself for putting her through it. He kept reminding himself he was helping her, but he still felt like a shit.

“What happened when Noah graduated, sweetheart?” The endearment felt like a lie. A trick to coax her to open up. “Was there money for him to go to college?”

“Australia’s not like here. Student loans are affordable and pretty much anyone can get them. We don’t have to sell our souls, eh?” This time the smile was genuine and the band around his chest relaxed a bit. “He didn’t want to leave me.” He could see her drifting into the past. “He stayed until my senior year, working with the divers, seeding oysters. I begged him to leave, but I was lost as soon as he was gone.”

“Why did you push him to leave?”

She hesitated and he knew there was something there. Something she didn’t want to tell him. Something he needed to know.

“I was scared. For him. It sounds crazy, I know.” She met his gaze, her blue eyes willing him to believe her. “It wasn’t one thing, Not really. It was more that everything changed. Uncle Jack brought in a new crew. The guys who moved in were different. Harder. After a while it seemed like they were really the ones in charge. I worried every time Noah dove that something would happen to him, so I convinced him I’d be okay on my own. It was just supposed to be for nine months Then I was going to follow him to university. By the time I graduated, he was gone. Stupid fucking waste.”

“And not your fault.” He didn’t need her to say the words to see the direction her thoughts had taken. She blamed herself for her brother’s death.

“If I hadn’t pushed him...”

“You were right to be worried about him. The pearl beds where your brother dove are being run by the Darah, one of the Indonesian cartels. They’re into a lot of things, most of them dangerous. Your instincts where Noah was concerned were probably right.”

He heard her suck in her breath and wished he could spare her the last part but there was one more thing he needed to know.

“Sophie, how did you get away? What made you leave Australia?”

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SOPHIE’S HEAD WAS spinning. She’d moved to the States for a fresh start and vowed when she got here she wouldn’t look back. There wasn’t anything for her in Australia but painful memories. She’d spent more time thinking about what happened to her mum and brother in the past two weeks than she had in the past two years. She hated it, hated how much of her life she’d blocked out and hated reliving all the heartache. She hated that when Emerson looked at her now, it was with pity and not with the heat she’d gotten used to sharing with him.

She wanted a do-over. One that came without scary cartels and a lifetime’s worth of regrets. She wanted a chance with Emerson that wasn’t dependent on him saving her from the unnamed bad guys. She wanted a chance to build something with him. It was a thought she hadn’t let herself have before. Her breath caught in her throat at the realization. Happily ever after wasn’t their deal.

Love wasn’t what they’d signed up for and just because she’d changed her mind didn’t mean Emerson had. She had so little experience with the emotion, she didn’t even know if this kind of intensity was normal. For all she knew, he’d had these same feelings with other women. The idea twisted something inside her and she shifted, as if she were trying to get away from some kind of physical pain.

“Sweetheart?” He touched her chin, tipping her face to meet his gaze, and there it was again. The endearment served up with a side of pity.

He wouldn’t let it go. She knew it the way she knew gravity was a thing. It was amazing he hadn’t pushed her for answers sooner. The longer she kept him waiting, the bigger he’d assume the reason was.

“I didn’t expect to have anything to do with the pearls after Noah left. I’d sorted with my mom and pitched in when they needed help but I was still just a kid. And with the new people taking over, I figured it was better if I stayed out of the way. I even got a job at a clothing shop in the tourist district a couple of nights a week and on weekends.” She’d loved the pretty boutique, loved playing with the clothes and setting up the window displays. “One of the guys I recognized but didn’t really know started showing up at the house, asking for help in the sorting sheds. It made me uncomfortable.” There was that word again. Impotent for all the good the feeling did her.

Emerson’s jaw clenched, and she rested her fingertips on his wrist, willing him to relax with her touch so he didn’t jump to the wrong conclusion. It was the conclusion she’d jumped to too—that if she’d hung around, she’d end up being raped or worse, but she’d gotten out before anything happened.

“Nothing happened, but when I found out about Noah, I knew I had to get out.” Thinking about the day the AFP showed up on the porch to tell her Noah was gone still felt raw. They’d been so kind but there was no softening the blow of their words. When the officer offered to put her in touch with someone who could help her, she’d lied about still having family. She was old enough—barely—so they let it go. Destroyed her world and walked out of the house, and all she could think about was how badly she wanted to run away. To leave all the pain and loss and fear behind her. “There was a group of backpackers headed into Broome. I fell in with them and never looked back.”

The kids were seasonal workers who showed up every year to earn a little cash on their way to somewhere else. It was never the same group twice and when she’d needed to disappear, they seemed like a perfect fit. She hadn’t gone out of her way to hide from the guys working the oysters. With Noah gone there was nothing to tie her to the farm. There was no reason for anyone to expect she’d stay, but she was careful not to draw attention to herself. And she’d spent the next few weeks looking over her shoulder until she corralled enough from her mum’s savings and the little bit Noah left her to buy a one-way ticket to the States.

“And here I thought you were inexperienced.”

She watched him for a moment to see if he’d misunderstood her, but his earlier pity had been replaced with something that looked a little bit like respect. She’d take that over the other any day.

“Pretty much just about the one thing.” She tipped her head to the side, considering. “And you’ve taken decent care of helping me experience that.”

“Just decent, huh?”

That was the understatement of the century but she liked teasing him and she loved the way he leaned toward her, mischief lighting his hazel eyes. It was as if someone threw a switch and they’d gone from something she never wanted to talk about to something she couldn’t get enough of.

“I don’t have a frame of reference, mind you, but the sexy times seem more than passable. From what little I know.” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, knowing without him saying a word that he’d rather be the one biting it. Just like that, the heat was back between them and desire bloomed inside her. It was a thousand times better than thinking about her past or the danger she was in. She was more than happy to limit her present—for the time being at least—to this room and the man in front of her.

“Surely, we can do better than passable.” He layered disapproval on the word and was still shaking his head when he got to his feet, seemingly willing to go along with the diversion.

Before she realized where he was headed, he’d bent at the waist, planting his shoulder in her soft stomach. She let out a whoosh as he stood. Holding her in a sexy fireman’s carry, his arm vised around the back of her thighs while his other hand cupped her bare ass.

“Passable,” he said, giving her butt a smack that made her yelp and pound ineffectively on his back. “I obviously need to up my game.”