Sunday, July 25. 4:31 p.m. Khandallah, a northern suburb in Wellington, New Zealand.

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Once again the intensity of his gaze struck Ana somewhere in the region of her brain that controlled her capacity to breathe normally. It felt as if he could see all her heart’s unhealed wounds and jagged scars. For a moment the temptation to cast shades of gray over her marriage slid stealthily into her mind, but she dismissed it. If nothing else, she’d tell him the truth. After saving her skin twice, she owed him that much.

“No.” She dropped her gaze to the strong cleft of his chin, ignoring the sting of unshed tears in the corner of her eyes. “No, I wasn’t in love with him.”

“Why can’t you look at me when you say that?” His fingers stroked along her jaw to trail a soft, blazing path down her neck to rest on her collarbone.

Because of the way you look at me.

Her gaze slid to his tanned Adam’s apple that jerked as he swallowed.

Because of the way you smell like woodsmoke and Mrs. Wilcox’s pine soap that you washed with this morning. Because of the way you move, so graceful and dangerous at the same time. Because the sound of your voice saying my name sends hot tingles down my spine. Because when you touch me my pulse gallops and when you kiss me, suddenly I start feeling things I’ve never felt before.

But she didn’t speak those thoughts that whirled like a feverish tempest through her brain.

Instead she said, “Because looking into your eyes scares me.”

His hands drifted across her collarbone to gently grasp her upper arms. “It kinda scares me, too.”

“Nothing scares you. You’re brave.”

“And you’re not?”

She huffed out a breath somewhere between a grunt and a snort of laughter. “I’ve been terrified since the earthquake struck. Bet you didn’t know I was afraid of heights either.”

“Come on, everyone could see you were shaking in your boots.” A smile curved his lips then faded as fast as it appeared. “That’s why you’re brave. Because you felt the fear and did it anyway.”

Ana rolled her eyes. “Cliché, much?”

“Well, that and taking on those assholes with only window cleaner and a can of beans.” He shook his head. “Seeing you come back instead of running away was pretty damn gutsy, but it scared the shit outta me.”

“Because you feel responsible for my well-being.” Why her stomach chose to give a ping of hurt over her undoubtedly true statement, she didn’t want to dwell on. Of course he felt responsible for her. A man who was the eldest of six siblings just oozed responsibility from every pore. “That’s sweet but unnecessary. You laid out the risks clearly before we left my building.”

“I wasn’t scared because I felt responsible for you—”

A sound of disbelief rolled off her tongue before she could contain it.

“Okay,” he admitted, the crooked smile returning. “Responsibility wasn’t the only reason I was scared. I think we both know it’s more than that between us now.”

Ana didn’t like the direction this was heading or the hypnotizing stroke of his thumbs gently rubbing her arms where he still held her. Or the nearness of his big, buff body causing an unsettling chain reaction within her, or the way he looked at her with a barely tamped-down desire in his eyes to claim her heart whether or not she gave him permission to try.

And whoa. She didn’t give him permission—her heart was well and truly out of bounds.

“Speaking of responsible”—she twisted out of his grasp and took a giant step away, tugging on the drawstrings of her hood—“if we catch pneumonia standing around in the rain that’s coming, I’ll hold you accountable. Let’s move.”

His gaze shuttered, the tender way he’d been looking at her vanishing like wisps of smoke in the harbor breeze. “You’re the boss,” he said.

Ana walked away from Daniel. Again. Already he could see a pattern forming. Gutsy as hell when it came to climbing down buildings or taking on scumbags twice her size, but confront the woman with anything too personal and she’d beat a hasty exit.

Go figure.

Wasn’t it usually the other way around? In his experience, women were in seventh heaven talking about their feelings—happy feelings, mad feelings, sad feelings. Feelings about how their coworkers treated them, how they felt when their best friend forgot to send them a birthday card, hurt feelings because Daniel took two hours to reply to a text message.

Apparently, Ana didn’t behave like other women.

Daniel walked after her, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’d pretty much thrown it out there when he’d admitted how easy it would be to fall for her. And had she been receptive to what, for Daniel, was a baring-of-the-soul vulnerability? That was a solid, resounding no. So maybe he was just caught up in the stress of an over-the-top situation with an attractive woman. Rookie mistake. He’d confused simple lust with something else.

Denial ain’t just a river in Africa, son. His father’s voice again.

A scowl twisted his lips as he lengthened his stride to catch up. “The weather’s closing in fast,” he said, drawing alongside her. “We’ll need to look for somewhere to pitch Mrs. Wilcox’s tent before it gets worse.”

She tilted her face up at the sky as they walked, crinkling her nose as a droplet of water landed on it and muttering a string of four-letter words she wouldn’t want her daughter repeating, followed by the words, “Wellington weather.”

Really? Was it the weather that bothered her or the thought of being huddled next to him in a tent all night that rattled her cage? To be fair, he thought as he shoved damp hair off his forehead, she’d well and truly rattled his.

Daniel kept his gaze on the rivulets of rainwater collecting in the gutters picking up clumps of leaves and sending them spinning back the way they had come.

“What about up there?” She pointed toward a signpost advertising one of the main walkways around the city hills. “I’ve been on that walk. There’s a clearing big enough for the tent about five minutes’ walk along the path.”

“Let’s check it out.”

They hiked until Ana called out and ducked off the path, leading them between a cluster of overgrown prickly gorse bushes that seemed eager to spear them with their inch-long spines. The grassy area, roughly the size of an average family yard, was tucked almost out of sight of the main walking path. It was as safe a spot as any, considering they needed somewhere where something wouldn’t fall or slide on them during the night.

“Perfect. The gorse and scrub will give us some shelter from the wind, too.” He angled his head, the breeze carrying cool droplets of rain to dot his flushed face.

“Oh, I can’t wait to get this backpack off.”

Ana moaned loudly as the bag thumped to the grass beside her. She peeled off her jacket and arched her back. Daniel froze in the midst of shucking off the straps from his own shoulders. He’d heard that moan before. Not the same, but similar to the sound he’d heard humming out of her throat when he’d kissed her back at the office building.

Like heat-seeking missiles, his eyes were drawn to the outline of her breasts thrust against the thin shirt. He knew her breasts felt as good as they looked. At least, he knew how they felt pressed against his back and once, briefly, into his chest.

Calder, do not go there.

He unzipped the backpack and pulled out the tent carry bag. Dumping the bag’s contents on the long grass at his feet, he fumbled with clumsy fingers to check the contents.

“Can I help with that?” Ana appeared at his side, taking the bag of pegs out of his hand when he couldn’t undo the tiny knots holding it closed.

“Thanks.” His voice came out sharper than he’d intended as he restrained himself from flipping her onto the sweet-smelling grass and kissing her until the only sounds she could make were those sexy little moans.

While Ana fiddled with the tie cords, he busied himself picking up stray rocks and twigs in the area they would set the tent in. Each rock he tossed was thrown harder and farther, which didn’t do much to ease the frustration of seeing Ana naked in his mind’s eye, but it sure as hell felt good.

He spread the groundsheet out and started to peg it down.

“What to do I do next?” Ana asked.

“You can assemble the poles.” He nodded at the stack on the ground. “Need a demo?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “This isn’t my first pole assembly rodeo.”

“Thought you said you’d never been camping.”

“No.” She snapped the first two pole sections together. “I said I hated camping. Big difference. Bugs, lack of privacy, and someone snoring only inches away from you—ugh, nightmare.”

“Let’s hope this impromptu experience will change your mind.”

“Yeah. That’ll happen.”

Normally he’d have a tent like this up in less than ten minutes but with the constant distraction of her presence it took double the time and twice the effort to concentrate his attention on what he was meant to be doing.

So focused was he on tensioning the guylines, he didn’t become aware of the rain trickling down the back of his shirt until Ana called out, “Are we nearly done? It’s starting to come down.”

He stood, spotting her on the other side of the tent, bent over their backpacks. The white shirt, a shapeless boxy thing, had been rendered almost transparent as it clung wetly to her skin. The outline of a bra strap cut across her back, and before he had a chance to look away for sanity’s sake, she turned toward him.

Her gaze flickered down, then straight up again, catching him ogling. “What?”

“Nothing.” He deflected with a grin and kept his eye level well away from the glimpse of her nipples jutting through damp cotton, spotted in the seconds it took to lift his gaze. “You look kinda cute when you’re completely out of your element.”

“Cute?” She picked up the backpacks and lugged them over to the tent. “Kittens are cute. Puppies are cute. Just because I’m on the petite side doesn’t make me cute. I eat cute for breakfast.”

“Can I say you look hot instead, ma’am?”

She set the bags inside the tent opening and smiled. It was the first time she’d switched on the full wattage and it sucker punched him straight in the gut.

“I much prefer hot as an adjective than cute.” She paused, wrinkling her nose, as if something had occurred to her. “Incidentally, what did I say at the park that was so damn funny?”

“It was the commando comment.” He folded his arms. “I can’t believe you’ve never heard it before, but going commando generally means to not be wearing any…” He couldn’t resist stretching out the punch line while he sent her a toothy smile that was pure evil. “Underwear.”

“Oh.” She flushed prettily and disappeared inside the tent.

He listened as the wind splattered droplets of rain against the nylon, waiting to see if she would come out again. She didn’t, and it was just as well. A man could only deal with so much temptation at one time.

That’s right. Look all you want, Calder, but keep your hands to yourself.

She’s trouble.