“So . . .”

“Yes. I meant it. I have been waiting, and I’ll keep waiting, because I can’t seem to help myself.”

Lizzy held up a hand, afraid of what else he might say, and even more afraid of what she might say. How had it happened? She’d been so careful, so determined to keep him at arm’s length. But it had happened. Somehow, while she wasn’t looking, she’d dropped her guard and let him in.

“Talk to me, Lizzy.”

Her eyes skittered away from his. What was there to say that she hadn’t said already? And yet none of it had mattered, because here she was—here they both were. She shook her head, trying to comprehend what was happening. “It feels like I’ve been pushing you away for half my life. You’d come over with your dad and I’d disappear until I knew you were gone. The night at the fountain, when you pulled me away from the crowd, and I said all those terrible things. The time at homecoming assembly when you came and sat next to me, and I bolted like you had the plague.” She shook her head again, cheeks warming at the memory. “You were always trying to rescue me.”

He smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to rescue you. I was trying to pluck up the courage to ask you out. Never got around to it, though. You had a real knack for shutting me down.”

“You scared me to death. I guess you still do. The idea of you—of us. I don’t think I knew that until tonight. But I know it now, and . . .” Her eyes shifted back to his, mere inches from her own. “What if it turns out to be a mistake, Andrew? What if we turn out to be a mistake?”

“We might. But I think it’s worth finding out, don’t you? If I’m not what you want, I’ll walk away, and that’s that. But not because it’s scary.” He paused, reaching for her hand. “We’re all scared, Lizzy. And we all make mistakes. That’s how it works. We just keep trying until we get it right.”

“What about you?” She searched his face, not sure what she was looking for. “Have you ever . . . gotten it right?”

He glanced down at the carpet, then back up again. “Almost.”

It wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. “What does almost look like?”

“Like a girl I met in college. Dianna. She was smart, pretty, fun. Perfect, really.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “She wasn’t you.”

Lizzy stared at him, too startled to reply. He’d said it without batting an eye.

“It’s always been you, Lizzy. Since the day I saw you coming out of the woods with your hair full of leaves, like something from a fairy tale. You didn’t say a word. You just stood there staring at me. And that was it. I was in love with the girl next door.”

“Andrew, I can’t . . .”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not asking you to. But stay with me. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

Lizzy looked down at their hands, his fingers and hers warmly woven. It would be so easy to let this happen, to simply disappear into him for the night. “Just for tonight,” she whispered. “That would be enough for you?”

“No. But it’s more of you than I ever thought I’d have.” He touched her face, his palm warm against her cheek. “Stay with me.”

He kissed her then, with bone-melting slowness, laying waste to the last of her resistance. Something in her let go, like the snick of a lock springing open, the moment of decision suddenly behind her. It was happening. This reckless, glorious, disastrous thing was happening.

His hands were in her hair, his breath a ragged half moan as his mouth blazed a slow, sweet trail down the slope of her neck, the soft, pulsing hollow of her throat. She reached for his shirt, dragging it up over his head, then let her hands roam his chest, the hard, flat planes of his belly. He smelled of soap and shampoo, but there was no missing the earthy musk of sandalwood and warm amber radiating from his skin. She breathed him in as he undressed her, pausing to kiss her between buttons, until the pajamas he’d lent her an hour before lay puddled on the carpet. There was only desire between them now, a searing hunger that left no room for words.

They eased down onto the bed, a tangle of need and clinging limbs. His eyes never left hers as he laid her back, palms, smooth and warm, skimming the hollow of her belly, the curve of her hip, the smooth, soft slope of her inner thigh, as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her. She closed her eyes, wanting to pretend none of it meant anything, but it would be a lie. This wasn’t Luc. Or any other man she’d ever been with.

She heard her name, and felt it too, rasped warmly against her throat, pulling down the last of her barriers. She would regret it all in the morning. Perhaps they both would. But in this moment there was nothing but the feel and smell and taste of him. And the abandon of a moment that might never come again.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Andrew pulled the truck to the top of the drive and cut the engine. “Sit tight while I go in and look around. Until we know more, I think we should err on the side of caution.”

Lizzy watched as he disappeared around the side of the house, relieved to have a moment alone with her thoughts. The last twelve hours were still such a jumble. Waking to find a prowler in the house, her panicked flight through the woods, falling into bed with Andrew.

Her cheeks tingled as she remembered their bodies in the darkness, the dizzying sense of inevitability, like a tide rushing toward shore. She’d been swept away, drowned in the moment. But now, in the light of day, the tide had gone out again, leaving her to navigate the aftermath of last night’s weakness.

He had awakened her with coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs. She’d never had a man make her breakfast, let alone bring it to her in bed, unless she counted Luc showing up on the occasional Sunday morning with bagels from Luesden’s bakery.

They had eaten in silence at first, sitting cross-legged on Andrew’s bed, with her doing her best to keep her mouth full, and Andrew sneaking sidelong glances between bites of toast. He was being tactful, she realized, waiting for her to bring up what had happened between them. Because at some point they would need to talk about it—about what it meant, and what it didn’t—but so far, she’d been spared that conversation.

Andrew had barely finished his eggs when his cell went off. One of the contractors on the Boston job had called to tell him they’d discovered an issue with the foundation, one that would require both plumbing and wiring redos. The clients needed to see him ASAP, to talk options and costs. There had been a flurry of calls after that. He had apologized profusely, but the truth was she’d been grateful for the diversion.

Lizzy glanced out the passenger side window in time to see Andrew reappear and wave the all clear. She felt a frisson of dread as she climbed out of the truck and made her way to the back of the house. She’d been preparing herself for this all morning, but a chill prickled down her spine when she saw the mudroom door standing ajar. The lock plate had been pried from the jamb, the jamb itself visibly gouged.

“He jimmied his way in,” Andrew said, pointing out the damage. “Then apparently found the fuse box.”

Lizzy nodded mutely, eyeing the powdery black residue smearing the doorknob and jamb. She’d heard about fingerprint dust, about the mess it made and what a nightmare it was to clean up. Now she’d get to see it firsthand. For the second time in eight years, Moon Girl Farm had been designated a crime scene.

Andrew reached for her hand. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It just gives me the creeps, thinking about what could have happened.”

“Me too.” He gave her fingers a squeeze. “We don’t have to stay long. You’ll just do a quick walk-through, see if anything’s missing, and get into some proper clothes. Although, I have to say, you look a lot better in my boxers than I do.”

Lizzy mustered a smile. He’d lent her a T-shirt and a pair of his boxers to wear. She’d had to roll the waistband several times to keep them up, but they’d done well enough.

“Ready to go in?”

She nodded, swallowing a groan.

Inside, the mess was even worse than expected. Lizzy did her best to ignore it as she moved from room to room, looking for rifled drawers and cabinets, but it was hard when virtually every surface was smeared with sooty residue, a stark reminder of the intruder’s presence.

“Well?” Andrew said when she made her way back around to the kitchen.

“Nothing’s missing down here. I guess he wasn’t here to steal the silver.”

“Looks that way.”