“This has got nothing to do with wisdom.”

Liam released her only to bury his hands in her hair. “I’ve been wanting to do this all night. It ought to be made illegal for you to hide your hair. It’s so soft.”

Something swelled in her chest at the sound of awe in his deep voice.

Her hair slid through his fingers as he released it. His hands settled on her jaw, bracketing her face. The gesture struck her as tender…cherishing even. His head lowered over her and he spoke a fraction of an inch next to her lips.

“Tell me that you feel it, too.”

Natalie couldn’t squeeze a word out of her throat, so she just nodded once.

And then he was kissing her, and everything faded away.

Nothing existed but Liam’s hungry mouth and her own erupting need.

About the Author

BETH KERY holds a doctorate degree in the behavioral sciences and enjoys incorporating what she’s learned about human nature into her stories. To date, she has published more than a dozen novels and short stories and writes in multiple genres, always with the overarching theme of passionate, emotional romance. To find out more visit Beth at her website at www.bethkery.com or join her for a chat at her reader group, www.groups.yahoo.com/group/BethKery.

Liam’s Perfect Woman

Beth Kery

www.millsandboon.co.uk

My heartfelt thanks go out to my agent, Laura Bradford,

and my editor, Susan Litman. Thanks to both of you for believing in these story ideas. Sandy, Lea and Mary—

thank you for the beta reads. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Finally, love and thanks to my husband for your daily inspiration, patience and support.

Prologue

The beauty of a beach bathed in the glow of a midnight moon went a long way toward soothing Liam Kavanaugh’s doubts about returning to his hometown after all these years. True, Harbor Town was hardly Chicago, and yes, the only danger he might face as chief of police of this lazy territory was falling asleep on the job during a monotonous workday.

But Chicago had nothing to compare to this view.

He walked on, his bare feet sinking into the cool, soft sand, letting himself be calmed by the sound of the waves breaking on the shoreline. Harbor Town had been the location of his childhood summer vacations. It would be where he would spend his next vacation, as well—a monthlong stretch of ease and relaxation before he started his new job.

Followed by a lifetime of ease? I’ll probably become so relaxed I’ll be practically comatose.

He stepped into the shadow of a tall sand dune, scowling at his thought. So what if serving as Harbor County’s police chief was opposite on the crime-fighting spectrum from being an organized crime detective in the big city? He’d had his fill of life in the fast lane.

Hadn’t he?

Every time he pictured himself as the local top cop it was as if he imagined a cutout, a facade, a caricature. Liam just wasn’t sure he could “do” an Andy Griffith, small-town-sheriff type with any degree of believability.

He would do it, though. He had promised his mother and his older brother, Marc, that he’d quit the Chicago police department when he finished his latest undercover assignment, and he’d held true to his word. Marc always said the Kavanaughs had a tendency to try to undo their father’s sin through hard work and community service, and Liam didn’t necessarily disagree. Yet doubts about his new life lingered.

He cleared the shadow of a tall sand dune and came to a complete halt.

For a few surreal seconds, he wondered if he still lay in his bed in the cottage, sleeping. He shifted his feet, feeling his toes burrow through the soft sand.

No, he was awake.

But the woman before him was something from a dream.

She twirled and spun on the beach, an angel forged from moonlight. She seemed transported by her dance, at the mercy of the movement…compelled by some invisible force. Her body was supple, graceful and perfectly proportioned. Liam could easily make out the outline of it, scantily dressed as she was on the hot summer night. As his eyes adjusted to the dim glow of the moon, he made out a pair of shorts and a bikini top, but otherwise her limbs and torso were bare. Her hair was straight and longer than he saw most women wear it anymore. The ends of the tresses swished against her naked waist.

Her skin flickered in shadow and silver light as she moved in her dance of solitary magic. She arched her back, her long hair touching the tops of her buttocks, her arms gliding through the air, her breasts thrust forward, as though she was seducing the moon itself.

A tingling sensation buzzed beneath his skin. He couldn’t pull his eyes off the vision of ethereal beauty. Her arms stilled and she held the pose for a moment, while his breath burned in his lungs. Then her curving back straightened and Liam realized her dance was complete.

Suddenly, she was a mortal woman standing on the beach. An incredibly beautiful one.

Walking toward her, he called out. Her long, dark hair flew about her shoulders when she spun in alarm. Her face was cast in shadow, but Liam didn’t need to see her expression to realize he’d frightened her with his presence. Harbor Town might be one of the safest places on earth, but no woman wanted to be accosted unexpectedly by a strange male past midnight in such a desolate location.

“No. Wait…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he called out when she turned and ran inland, as quick as a startled deer. He resisted an urge to go after her.

There was no logical reason to pursue her when it would just frighten her more.

Still, as he watched the shadows claim her, he found himself longing to know her name.

Chapter One

Natalie Reyes placed her hand on her chest and applied a slight pressure, and old habit she’d acquired long ago to still her jangling nerves. She looked at the gold-and-glass clock on her desk.

Four minutes. He’d be here in four minutes. Or maybe he wasn’t the type to be prompt, as confident and insouciant as he always seemed.

She must be stark-raving mad for calling him and asking him into the privacy of her offices…for planning on making him such a scandalous proposal.

Her anxiety mounted, and she froze when she heard a door open and close in the lobby. It was late for a workday. The two attorneys she shared office space with were already home, having dinner with their families.

So much for trying to forecast Liam Kavanaugh’s actions. He’d come early.

Natalie sat up, ramrod straight. She’d tilted her small lamp toward the chair in front of her desk. Otherwise, the office was thick in shadow, thanks to the heavy drapes on the windows. It intimidated her to think of meeting him in the intimacy of darkness, but she’d be damned if she would display herself. Not to him.

The words were two of the hardest she’d ever uttered.

“Come in.”

Her first thought was that he’d cut his hair since she’d seen him two nights ago. The tousled, blond mess used to be his hallmark. Natalie was stunned to see he looked impossibly more handsome with a shorter, mussed style. It looked darker now, almost brown in the dim light of the room. The goatee he wore was so short it was nothing more than a shadow that highlighted the cut of his jaw and his firm mouth.

She’d been wrong about his hair. His true hallmark was his eyes, which currently were spotlighting her with a cool, narrowed gaze. Gone was the carefree, charismatic playboy she remembered—in his place was a controlled, observant, slightly suspicious cop.

All the better. She wanted a professional for this job, after all.

“Please, sit down. Thank you again for agreeing to see me.” She was pleased to hear that her voice didn’t tremble.

“I still can’t imagine why you wanted to,” he said before he shut the door. Natalie jumped slightly at the brisk bang. She held herself unnaturally still as he sauntered toward a chair in front of her desk, all careless ease, a male animal in his prime who was supremely comfortable in his own skin. As he started to sit he leaned forward several inches, peering into the light cast by the single dim lamp on her desk.

Natalie moved subtly back into the cloaking shadows.

“I’m not accustomed to meeting strangers in dark rooms, Ms. Reyes. How do I know you’re not planning to jump me?”

For a few seconds, she was too knocked off balance to reply. His eyebrows went up in wry amusement and he leaned back in the chair. He, too, became shrouded in shadows with the exception of an angle of light that fell across his lower face, allowing her to see his mouth. It was a compelling mouth…decisive. Made for giving orders and laughing and…

Other things.

His lips tilted ever so slightly, as if he’d read her mind.

Cocky bastard.

“I can assure you I have no plans to ‘jump’ you, Mr. Kava-naugh,” she replied with what she hoped was cold austerity.

“Too bad. A little action might have spiced up my evening.”

“I’m sorry to have disappointed you.”

He gave a slight shrug, ignoring her sarcasm. “No need to apologize. I’ll get used to the slug’s pace of Harbor Town before long.”

“Do you already miss it, then?”

She sensed his muscles tensing despite his seemingly negligent posture. “What? My old job?”

“Yes.”

“What do you know about my old job?”

She set down the pen she’d been nervously twisting in her lap. She could feel his gaze on her hand, which shone clearly in the pool of light cast by the shaded lamp.

“I’m friends with your sister-in-law, Mari. She’s the one who told me you’d retired from your position at the Chicago P.D. and were returning to Harbor Town to become our police chief. Congratulations on your new position. We’re very lucky to have a detective who has been decorated so many times and has so much experience.” He remained unmoving and silent. She found herself leaning forward slightly into the light, trying to assess his expression.

“You don’t believe me? Why?” she asked quietly when she saw his lips were tilted slightly in skepticism…or was it derision?

“I’m sorry, I’m just finding it hard to believe you invited me into your office to welcome me to Harbor Town and extol my virtues. I’m a Kavanaugh, after all. You’re a Reyes.”

For a few taut seconds she heard nothing but her heart pounding in her ears.

“I’m an individual, Mr. Kavanaugh. Not a history.”

He laughed, the low, rough quality of it taking her by surprise.

“Stop with the ‘Mr. Kavanaugh.’ I’m Liam.”

“Fine. I’m Natalie,” she replied breathlessly.

“And nothing against your individuality or anything, but I doubt even if you’d been marooned on a desert island for the past sixteen years you’d be unaffected by our history, as you put it. So why don’t you just tell me why you asked me here tonight?”

Liam experienced a moment of regret at his bluntness when he noticed Natalie’s hand go still on the blotter. She had beautiful hands. In the absence of any other visual information, he’d been focusing on them to a ridiculous degree. Something about their movement struck a chord of recognition in him. The woman he spoke to had a slender neck and dark, lustrous hair that stood in contrast to the pale suit jacket she wore. It gave off a subtle gleam when she shifted her head ever so slightly. The line of her jaw was firm, but delicate. Her shoulders were narrow and…finely made. He didn’t know why the phrase popped into his head, but it seemed to fit. Her breasts were unexpectedly full beneath the soft blouse and tailored jacket she wore.

Slowly, he dragged his gaze away from that beguiling display of soft femininity. He was more than a little curious. She was obviously a beautiful woman. So what was with the dark glasses, dim room and cloak-and-dagger routine?

It’d shocked him to the core when she’d identified herself on the phone yesterday. Up until then, one thing had been certain in his life: a Reyes didn’t pick up the phone and call a Kavanaugh for a friendly chat.

He’d only been fifteen years old when his life had changed forever. It had been like a lightning bolt striking out of a clear blue sky. Sixteen years ago, his father, Derry Kavanaugh, had gotten drunk out of his mind one hot summer night and caused a three-way crash, killing Kassim and Shada Itani—his new sister-in-law’s parents—along with Miriam Reyes, Natalie’s mother.

Liam knew from his older brother’s terse comments and his mother’s tight-lipped fury that the lawsuit, and hearings following the crash had been especially bitter and ugly.

This whole situation with Natalie made him uncomfort-able…edgy. He’d rather sit across a desk from a hit man with a rap sheet that stretched all the way down Main Street than this smooth-voiced female whose life had been altered by his father’s crime.

“I’m very aware of the years of tension between my family and yours. There’s no need to be flippant. Perhaps you’re under the impression this is easy for me, Mr. Kavanaugh. If so, you’re mistaken.”

His eyebrows shot upward. A shard of steel had entered the cool silk of her voice. “So we’re back to Mr. Kavanaugh, huh?” He sighed and shifted in the undoubtedly expensive, but uncomfortable, straight-backed leather chair. He cast his gaze around the luxurious office, trying to discern any details that would help him to better comprehend this strange meeting and cool woman. “Look, do you suppose you could just get to the point? Why’d you call me?”

Seemingly of their own volition, his eyes flickered down again over her breasts when she inhaled.

“I’d like to hire you,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Hire me? For what? I love my sister-in-law like crazy, but if Mari gave you the impression I’m up for spying on cheating boyfriends or roughing up someone who owes you money, she’s dead wrong. Besides, I’m on vacation.”

“I don’t want to hire you to rough up anyone.” He couldn’t fully make out her expression, but from the sound of her voice, she was frowning. “You’re a detective, aren’t you? I’d like to hire you to do some investigative work. It shouldn’t take much more than a few hours every day—probably less—and I understand you won’t start your new job until next month.”

“Oh, you’ve got it all figured out, do you?” he asked with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Do you mind if I ask just what it is you think I’m going to investigate?”

“The crash.”

A silence settled between them like hot, flowing lead. It seemed to burn her cheeks, but her gaze didn’t waver. She did start when Liam leaned forward suddenly, his elbows on his jeans-covered knees.

“The crash?” he clarified bluntly.

She nodded.

“Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No. I assure you I’m very serious. If you don’t take the job, I’ll hire another investigator.”

A bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “Maybe you were too young to realize it at the time, but the state police conducted a full investigation of the crash.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” he asked sarcastically. “Then what is it that you expect me to investigate? What do you imagine I’ll find, exactly?”

“I want to know why he did it.”

He gaped at her. “Why who did what?”

“Your father. I want to know what was going through his head that night. I need to know.”

He’d been insulted by plenty of men in his day, but not in such a personal way, and never by a woman who probably weighed a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet. The fact that her voice never wavered, never trembled once, infuriated him.

“Do you really believe my father got in that car with the intention of causing a crash and killing all those people?”

She leaned forward, apparently affected by his low, dangerous tone. “No—”

“What, do you think he had some deep, dark suicidal and homicidal wish? You’d be better off hiring some crackpot psychiatrist if those are the type of crap answers you’re looking for.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You’re doing a pretty great job of it, nonetheless,” he muttered through a clenched jaw. He stood, ignoring the fact that she started in alarm at his abrupt movement. “Look, I know what my father did to you and your family. My dad made the hugest, most horrible mistake of a lifetime. He paid for it with his life, and my family has paid for it every day since then. I know yours has, too. That doesn’t give you the right to ask me here and make nasty insinuations about his motivations. He was drunk. He caused an accident. End of story.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He started. She either was the ballsiest woman he’d ever run into, the craziest or the meanest. Quite possibly she was all three.

“Yeah. I’m sure about that.” Turning, he walked out the door without looking back. But he had the impression that she remained behind her desk, frozen in the shadows.

Brigit Kavanaugh invited Liam and his sister Colleen to dinner at the house on Sycamore Avenue the next evening. After he’d filled up on his mom’s fried chicken, Liam retired to the front porch.

He brooded as he listened to the familiar sounds of the neighborhood evening tree frog orchestra and the waves hitting the beach at the end of the street. When his sister joined him on the front porch, he couldn’t help but notice she looked as irritated as he felt.

“Where’re the kids?” Liam asked, referring to Colleen’s two children, Brendan and Jenny. Colleen was a widow. Her husband, Darin, had been killed in service in Afghanistan three years ago.

“They’re watching that new video Mom got them. So what’re you frowning about?” Colleen asked grumpily before she plopped down on the porch swing.

“I was just thinking about the fried chicken. Do you think Mom is actually following her diet?”

Colleen’s grimace told him she’d been wondering the same thing. Their mother had had a mild heart attack last year. At Brigit’s latest checkup her doctor had told Colleen her mother had been neglecting her medications and ignoring her dietary restrictions. The news had stunned the Kavanaugh children, who had thought their mother was perfectly healthy.

“I think she is.” Colleen gave the screen door a furtive look. “I check with Margie at the pharmacy, and she says Mom has been picking up her medicine regularly. She only had one piece of chicken tonight, and she used vegetable oil to fry it.”

Liam sighed. They couldn’t follow their mom around like she was a two-year-old and make sure she followed doctor’s orders, after all. Brigit Kavanaugh was a warm, caring mother. She was also a well-guarded fortress when it came to her private life.

“I told you why I was frowning, so you spill about why you’re in such a bad mood,” Liam challenged his sister. “Oh, wait…I’ve got it. It’s Wednesday evening.”

Colleen pulled a face as she twisted her blond hair and clipped it at the back of her head. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to, really. His comment explained everything. Eric Reyes, Natalie’s older brother, volunteered at the facility where Colleen worked as a clinical social worker. Being around Eric tended to make Colleen a tad tetchy.

It wasn’t that Liam or Colleen didn’t understand Eric’s and Natalie’s anguish over the loss of their mother. It wasn’t even that they begrudged them for their suit against their father’s estate or the court order that resulted, whereby the majority of Derry Kavanaugh’s savings and property had to be liquidated to pay the Reyes and Itani families for damages. It was Eric Reyes’ insolent attitude whenever he encountered a Kavanaugh that really got to Colleen—and Liam, for that matter.

Unfortunately, Reyes volunteered at the Family Center—the treatment facility and organization for victims and survivors of substance abuse that Mari Kavanaugh had opened last year. Liam had learned from experience that his sister would likely be in a bad mood on Wednesday evenings, since Eric worked at the center on Wednesday afternoons.

“What’d the prince of physicians do this time to get your knickers in a twist?” Liam asked.

“He trumped me with one of my clients.”

Liam whistled under his breath. Colleen and Liam were close. They were only fifteen months apart in age, and they’d gone through a lot together as the two youngest Kavanaugh children. He could easily tell his sister was on a low boil at the moment, and he knew why. Colleen fought like a lioness for her clients. If he cared two cents about Eric Reyes, he’d actually feel sorry for the idiot for stepping into her clinical territory.

“I can put up with his cocky attitude. I have put up with it. But if he thinks he can mess with my clients or my course of treatment, he’s got another think coming,” Colleen said.

“Seems as if the Reyes family is stepping up the feud a tad.”

Colleen glanced at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I had a strange request for a meeting yesterday.”

“From who?”

“Natalie Reyes.”

Colleen’s aquamarine eyes went wide. “What in the world did she want?”

Liam glanced warily at the screen door, worried his mother might overhear. When he heard the distant clatter of a dish in the kitchen, he spoke in a low voice, giving Colleen the major details of his meeting with Natalie. She stared at him, obviously as stunned as he’d been.

“I don’t understand,” Colleen said when he’d finished his explanation. “What does she hope to accomplish by having someone investigate the crash—you, of all people? It happened sixteen years ago.”

“You’re telling me?” Liam asked wryly. “I was blown away when she said it.”

“What was Natalie like?” Colleen asked curiously, after a moment. “She’s so quiet. I’ve lived in Harbor Town for most of my adult life, but I’ve only caught glimpses of her in the distance. She works in that office downtown, but she’s practically a recluse.”

“She might be the solitary type,” Liam muttered, “but she’s every bit as annoying as her brother. She’s a block of ice.”

“And…”

“What?” Liam asked. He was confused by his sister’s manner—intense but hesitant at once.

“How bad was the scarring?”

Liam just stared at her. When Colleen took in his expression, she clarified. “On her face. It was in all the papers and news following the crash. Don’t you remember? The left side of her face was…” Colleen sighed sadly and began to rock back and forth on the swing. “They had photos of her in the papers. She was a beautiful little girl before the crash. That’s what a fair portion of Dad’s estate went toward. The judge ordered it for Natalie’s reconstructive surgery and compen-sation…if the surgery didn’t work.”

Liam blinked. Suddenly Natalie’s tendency to hide in the shadows made perfect sense. He didn’t want to believe it, for some reason, didn’t want to even consider what his sister had just said.

His mother had sequestered Liam and Colleen—her two youngest children—in Chicago after the crash, where the media clamor had been muted. He recalled few details from that gray, grief-filled time. They’d stayed in Chicago until Brigit had lost their family home in the lawsuit, and they’d relocated permanently to the vacation home in Harbor Town. By that time, the sensationalized reports in the news had tapered off, even if the memories and sometimes harsh judgments of the townspeople hadn’t.

“Liam?” Colleen prompted when he didn’t speak.

“I never saw any scars,” Liam replied hoarsely.

Colleen shook her head so that a portion of her long, thick hair fell from the twist on her head and coiled down her shoulder. “I’m not really sure what Natalie’s intentions were, but I do know it’s not uncommon for a trauma survivor to feel a need to make sense of what happened to them. Natalie Reyes was the only one who lived through that accident, after all,” Colleen said.

She sighed and kicked on the floor of the porch, sending the swing into squeaky motion. “If she struck you as cold, I’d imagine she comes by her aloofness honestly.”

The muscles in Natalie’s left eye began to twitch under the constant strain. She placed her hand over the scarred portion of the eyelid and pressed gently, trying to alleviate the familiar discomfort. Shutting the folder on the monthly financial reports for the Silver Dunes Country Club, she glanced at the clock. It was going on nine. She wasn’t tired, but her damn eye was, and that meant her work day was over whether she liked it or not.

A sigh of relief leaked between her lips when she flipped her desk lamp to the dimmest setting.

She started at the sudden sound of a knock on the door, her hand falling to the desk. When the loud rapping resumed after a pause, she stood.

Who in the world was knocking? It was about the time Erma often began her night cleaning, but Erma had her own keys. Perhaps she’d forgotten them?

She hurried through the dark, silent waiting room, seeing a tall figure through the frosted glass of the front door. The outline was definitely not that of her short, stout cleaning lady. She hesitated before she flipped the lock.

“Who is it?”

“Liam Kavanaugh.”

Her hand moved clumsily as she fumbled with the lock. Why had he come back? Over the past forty-eight hours, she’d come to terms with the fact that she’d handled their meeting the other night all wrong. Natalie was only used to dealing with people in the cut-and-dried language of business and numbers. She didn’t have much of a social life. Of course she had a few friends, like Mari Kavanaugh, and she and her brother, Eric, were very close.

But she wasn’t “good” with people. And she had little experience in dealing with a man like Liam Kavanaugh.

Strike that. She had no experience in dealing with a man like Liam.

“Hello,” she said breathlessly after she’d swung open the door. A distant streetlight allowed her to see him. He stood on the sidewalk wearing a dark blue T-shirt and pair of faded, worn jeans that looked as if they’d been tailor-made for his body. All the Kavanaugh children had been natural athletes, Natalie recalled. Something about Liam’s balanced stance and long, lean frame reminded her of that.

Twilight made it difficult for her to read his expression, but she saw the gleam of his eyes beneath his lowered brow.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asked.

She nodded. Even if he’d come here to castigate her more for her request, he was here. She’d have the opportunity to explain herself better. Despite her desire to do just that, nervousness bound her throat as she led him to her office. She immediately darted behind the safe fortress of her desk but looked up in surprise when Liam blocked her by standing in her path. He stood closer than she’d expected.

She flinched and began to step away, but he stopped her by encircling her wrist in his hand. He’d lowered his head. Her upturned face was less than a foot away from his. She stared at his cotton-covered chest, not really seeing anything. Instead, panic started to rise in her as she inhaled his clean, male scent.

“You never really answered me the other day—about what you hoped to discover with an investigation of a crash that happened sixteen years ago,” he said quietly.

“You never really gave me the chance.”

She shut her eyes briefly in regret. She could tell by the increased tension in his gripping hand that he’d been offended by her quick, sharp response.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She went back to studying his chest, trying to gather herself. “Maybe…maybe it’s difficult for you to understand my reasons.”

“Try me.”

Why did he persist in holding her? His touch unnerved her, as did his nearness, and this confession was difficult enough as things stood.

“I think a lot about what was going through your father’s mind on that night of the crash. You might think that my…obsession about it would have eased over the years, but it hasn’t. It weighs on me.” She lowered her head, blocking herself even more from Liam’s laserlike stare. “Maybe you’ll think it’s foolish, but it’s like an unhealed wound. It bothers me, not knowing what motivated him on that night. What made a father of four children, a successful lawyer and businessman, get behind the wheel of his car with the equivalent of twenty drinks in him? I wasn’t trying to insinuate he purposely caused the crash the other night,” she assured in a pressured fashion. “But there had to be some reason he was in the state he was. If I knew…if I could at least understand, maybe I could finally let it go.”

“Knowing wouldn’t change anything, Natalie.”

She blinked. His tone had sounded warm…concerned, even? She forced herself to remain still, her head bowed, even though she longed to look up at him in that moment and try to discern if his expression matched his voice.

“Maybe you’re right. But I need to try. I’ve talked it over with Mari. She said she’s read that it’s not uncommon for survivors of trauma to need to know all the details that led up to the event. It’s necessary for the grieving process…to make sense of things.”

“My sister Colleen said something similar. Does that mean you’re still grieving?”

This time she did look up—slowly. Standing as close as they were, she could make out his features despite the shadows. His expression was currently completely sober, as if his features had been carved from rock. The veins in her wrist seemed to swell and throb beneath his fingers.

“I’m done grieving. But it’s as if a few crucial pieces are missing from my life. I can’t seem to stop thinking about filling in those gaps.”

“Why me, then?” he asked after a moment.

“Mari has spoken so highly of you,” she whispered through leaden lips.

“And?” he prodded.

“I thought…I thought perhaps you might share some of my desire. To know the truth,” she added quickly.

His mouth quirked sardonically. “And of course it wouldn’t hurt that as a Kavanaugh, I might have some inside information.”

Her spine stiffened. What he’d said had pricked her. Her curiosity about Derry Kavanaugh was so great that it had appealed to her, this idea of having access to someone who knew so much about him.

“I’d considered it,” she said honestly, “but not in the unflattering light you seem to be imagining. Think whatever you want. You will anyway.”

For a few tense seconds they just stared at one another in the dim office. Natalie became hyperaware of the steady movement of his chest as he breathed in and out.

“Okay. I’ll take the job.”

“You will? That’s…that’s—”

It happened so quickly that she never had warning. The fluorescent overhead lights flared on, and her eyelids shut automatically at the unexpected intrusion. Still stunned, Natalie struggled to blink as a spasm went through the muscles of her left eyelid. It drooped involuntarily.

“Ms. Reyes,” Erma called out in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were in here!”

“Turn out the light,” Liam barked.

Natalie caught a fleeting image of a shocked-looking Erma standing just inside the open door of her office. She glanced up. She clamped her eyes closed, but not before the image of Liam Kavanaugh’s hungry stare was stamped permanently in her mind.

The light switch clicked, and the room was suddenly dim again.

“Are you all right, Ms. Reyes?” Erma asked, sounding anxious and contrite at once.

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m fine,” Natalie murmured, barely holding down a rising tide of emotion. “We’ll be out of here in just a moment, Erma.”

“No problem. Like I said, I’m sorry for interrupting. Are you sure you’re okay?” She felt regretful for the anxiety in Erma’s voice. Natalie’s mother had been a cleaning lady and she was always extra considerate and respectful of Erma, knowing from experience how exhausting and solitary the work could be.

“I’m fine, Erma,” she said, using all her effort to keep her voice even. She kept her face averted. “Really, I am.”

Natalie heard the door shut. She jerked her arm, suddenly wild to get away from Liam, all of her usual tight control evaporating to mist. A sound of misery escaped her throat when instead of releasing her, he embraced her.

Chapter Two

“Calm down,” he said near her ear. “It’s okay.”

The unexpected eruption of emotion that shuddered through her flesh mortified and bewildered her. Plenty of people had looked at her face before. Plastic surgeons and doctors had scrutinized it, photographed it and even written medical journal articles on it. Townspeople constantly cast curious, furtive glances her way at the grocery or drugstore.

Why was she crying just because Liam had seen her scars?

Maybe it was because none of those other people pinned her with such a piercing, honest gaze that made her feel so exposed.

“Just leave, please,” she muttered as she tried to pry herself out of his arms.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But give me a second.”

Natalie paused in her struggling. Her breath seemed to burn in her lungs at the sensation of his long, jeans-covered thighs pressing against her own. It was a new experience for her, to be held against such a virile man. Her thoughts seemed to flit around her head like panicked moths trying to escape from her skull.

He cradled her jaw. She went entirely still when he brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. The movement mesmerized her, and she stared fixedly at his chest, afraid to raise her gaze, but never so aware of another human being in her life.

“The bright light hurts your eye?” Liam stated more than asked.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she blurted out angrily.

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you,” he said, sounding slightly insulted. “I asked you a simple question. If we’re going to be working together, I want to know.”

“The muscles are weak in my left eye,” she murmured after a moment, contrite for her defensive reaction. “It tires easily. It’s sensitive to bright light.”

She sensed his nod of understanding. He resumed stroking her with his thumb.

“Is that why you prefer going to the beach in the moon-light?”

Her head jerked up, but she instantly regretted her move. His mouth was only inches from hers.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you the other night. Dancing on the beach.”

She just stared at him. How could he have recognized her? The beach had been draped in shadow. She’d known him, but surely that was different. She had long practice in recognizing Liam, especially on a beach, where he seemed to belong.

“How…when did you realize it was me?” she whispered.

“Just now,” Liam said. She felt his warm breath mist her lips. “I knew you once I fully saw your beautiful face.”

What sort of a game was he playing?

She backed out of his embrace, experiencing an overwhelming longing to get back on track…to return to a place of control. Something told her it was downright dangerous to allow Liam the upper hand in this business endeavor…to get the upper hand, period. He probably didn’t think twice about saying she had a beautiful face or touching her as if it were as natural as breathing. Liam had always been a ladies’ man. The idea of him treating her in the same way he did other women panicked her.

This time when she attempted to put her large, solid desk between them, he didn’t stop her. She impatiently dried her tears with a tissue and pulled a checkbook from her desk drawer.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding bewildered and a little irritated.

“We haven’t yet discussed salary,” she said as she wrote rapidly. She ripped out the check and held it up for him to take. “This is your retainer. I’ll pay you twice that amount when the investigation is complete.”

It annoyed her that he didn’t take it because her hand shook slightly, making the check tremble in the air. Erma had taken her off her guard by switching on that light, but Liam had shocked her to the core by embracing her. She’d thought she knew what she was doing by making this proposal, but apparently Liam wasn’t something to be quantified and controlled.

“How will you know if I’ve investigated the matter fully or not?”

“I’ve heard about your work ethic from Mari. I’ve read about your career. You’ve been a champion for victims of crime…for discovering the truth. If there’s anything relevant to be found, you’ll do your best to uncover it once you take this check.”

“Chances are I won’t be able to uncover anything. I want you to know that up front.”

“I understand. I still want to try,” Natalie stated, her firm tone belying the fact that she couldn’t meet his eyes.

Liam stared at the check uncertainly.

He’d run the gamut of emotion in the past few minutes, and now Natalie had the nerve to make him feel even more. He’d leaped at the opportunity to see her face, then experienced a rush of guilt for his curiosity…his hunger. It wasn’t seeing her scars that made him feel guilty, it was her palpable vulnerability.

The bone structure of her face was as finely made as her body. Natalie’s wasn’t a run-of-the-mill beauty, but the haunting kind. There were several smaller scars near her temple, but the most prominent was a half-inch-thick one that ran all the way from her eyelid and disappeared below her hairline. It only seemed to highlight the perfection of everything else about her.

It saddened him, that scar—saddened him on a bone-deep level. It was a reminder of the months and probably years of pain that a young, innocent girl had endured.

But his sorrow didn’t blind him to the beauty of the woman beneath that scar. In fact it only added to it.

His father had caused this; he’d been responsible for making this exquisite woman shrink into herself like she’d thought her face would actually harm an onlooker.

Seeing that had hurt him in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

For a few tension-filled seconds Liam considered telling her to keep her money. Natalie Reyes was far, far from being the devil, but somehow making this pact with her intimidated him.

Accepting that check sealed the deal.

For sixteen years, Liam had struggled to create a cohesive image of his father. He’d loved his dad like crazy. All four Kavanaugh children had. He’d been charismatic, fun…someone he’d always respected. It’d been a trial for Liam to come to terms with the drastically different pictures of his father that he’d received after the crash: the laughing, powerful patriarch…the selfish, heartless drunk…

Who the hell was Derry Kavanaugh?

Part of him had always been curious about what had happened that night. He shared that same internal pressure as Natalie Reyes. Problem was, he’d been disillusioned by his father once—when he was fifteen years old. Taking that check from Natalie would set him on a path where he might discover even uglier truths about his dad.

He hesitated on a knife’s edge. Why did he waver now when he’d dived headfirst into drastically more risky and dangerous situations in the past?

The image of Natalie sitting behind her desk, cloaked in shadow, penetrated his awareness. For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, he wanted to walk behind that desk and undo the knot at the back of her head. He wanted to fill his hands with that glorious spill of hair he’d seen on the beach and here in her office the other night.

It irritated him, this dichotomy of feelings she inspired in him. He wanted to shake her sometimes. He also wanted to protect her. Most of all, he wanted to tear through her facade so he could lay bare that woman he’d glimpsed on the beach.

He must be losing his mind.

He reached out and swiped the check.

“I’ll make a report to you when…if I get anything of substance. Which I doubt very seriously,” he said pointedly before he walked out of the office.

A few days later Natalie was putting some groceries in her trunk when her cell phone rang. Her heart leaped with a mixture of anxiety and excitement when she noticed the identity of the caller.

Ridiculous. She really needed to get past this girlhood crush she’d had on Liam Kavanaugh. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Children had a license to dream, and Natalie knew how dangerous dreaming could be for a grown woman.

“Hello?” she said as she got into her car. She’d planned to drop by her brother, Eric’s, place and maybe make him some dinner with the groceries she’d just purchased.

“It’s Liam. I was wondering if you want me to give you periodic reports on what I’ve found.”

“Oh…I don’t know. I hadn’t really thought about it. Have you found something important?”

“No. Well…maybe.” He made a sound of impatience. “Problem is, I don’t know what you’d think is worthwhile or not. What are you doing right now?”

“I’m in the Shop and Save parking lot. I just finished some errands.”

“Why don’t you swing by my place? I stained the hardwood floors earlier, but we could talk out on the terrace.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “I won’t take more than twenty minutes of your time.”

She felt contrite. She was the one who had proposed a business arrangement between them. Why would she hesitate to meet with him? A voice inside her head taunted her, accusing her of being gun-shy because of that embrace the other day, but Natalie willfully ignored it.

“Of course. What’s your address?”

He gave it to her. Natalie had lived in Harbor Town her whole life, so she knew precisely which house he referred to.

“You bought the Myerson cottage?” she clarified.

“Yeah. I know what you’re thinking.”

“You do?” she asked in numb amazement.

“That I’m a sucker for buying a money pit like this? My mother keeps telling me I’m nuts,” he said, wry amusement in his tone.

“No…no that’s not what I was thinking at all.”

She told him she’d be there shortly and hung up the phone. Less than ten minutes later she pulled past an old mailbox—even that was rich in character and craftsmanship—and drove down the long, weedy gravel drive. It was late August, the time when nature was at her ripest. The Victorian-era cottage blended almost seamlessly into the overgrown landscape, thanks to the thick surrounding foliage and blooming vines that covered the stone exterior. Flowers were everywhere—bluebells, wisteria, daisies and roses.

It had stunned her to hear he’d bought the cottage, but understanding slowly started to mute her incredulity.

This place was as wild and untamed as Liam himself.

She heard the sound of the waves breaking in the distance as she got out of the car. Of course. She hadn’t been far from here that night when they encountered each other on the lake-front. The Myerson cottage was just south of White Sands, the public beach where Liam had come upon her in a private moment. Perhaps like her, he hadn’t been able to sleep that night.

She started toward the door but paused when Liam came around the corner of the house, poking his arms into a short-sleeved button-down shirt. She froze at the sight of him. He was far enough away that she was granted several seconds to study him through the lenses of her dark glasses. He wasn’t bulky muscular, but he was ripped. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his torso, just lean muscle and smooth golden-brown skin. He wore a pair of casual cargo shorts that fastened low on his narrow hips. The omnipresent braid of leather encircled his wrist. The white shirt he threw on looked delicious next to his tan. His legs were long and well-shaped and dusted with light brown hair. From the light sheen of sweat on his abdomen and chest she guessed he’d just come from doing some physical labor.

“Hi,” he greeted as he approached, buttoning his shirt with fleet fingers.

“Hello,” she replied, mentally damning her breathlessness. She slammed the car door and walked toward him, glad that he closed the shirt over his bare chest. He was almost indecently gorgeous. She noticed a small smile pull at his mouth when he came to a halt.

“What?” she asked warily.

“I’m not used to seeing you in your civilian clothes.”

She glanced down at her attire—jean shorts, canvas tennis shoes and a blue-and-white-striped tank top.

“Strike that,” he said. She lifted her head. Her breasts tingled beneath his flickering gaze. “You weren’t in civilian clothes that night I saw you on the beach. You weren’t wearing much of anything, were you?”

Heat rushed into her cheeks. It confused her to the core, this tendency he had to say things and make it sound so warm…so intimate. It shouldn’t surprise her, of course. Liam Kavanaugh was a born flirt. He probably just didn’t know how to shut it off, even with an unlikely candidate.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone to see me on that night,” she said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. It wouldn’t do to let him believe their chance meeting on the beach had meant anything to her.

“Obviously.”

She inhaled slowly. It certainly didn’t take him long to make her feel like she was floundering.

“Accountants deserve downtime as much as police officers,” she said stiffly.

“More so,” he agreed with a shrug. “If I had to wear a suit every day to work I’d go nuts. I’d dive into my jeans the second I walked out of the office.”

He looked surprised when she laughed, but she couldn’t seem to help it. “Or your board shorts, no doubt.”

His smile was like sex distilled. Her laughter faded at the sight of it.

“I think you might be getting the hang of me, Natalie.”

“Heaven forbid.”

He chuckled appreciatively as he waved for her to follow him on the ancient stone path that circled the cottage. “Is it all right if we sit out here?” he asked, waving to the shaded terrace at the back of the house. “The fumes from the stain are fading—I’ve got almost every window open in the house—but they might still bother you.”

“Of course, it’s lovely out here,” Natalie replied, meaning it. She followed Liam up some stairs, appreciating the view of a sparkling, light blue Lake Michigan.

“Something to drink?” he asked. “I have iced tea, soda—”

“No, I’m fine. Please get something for yourself, though,” she said as she sank down onto a cushioned deck chair.

“I’ll be right back.”

Natalie nodded and leaned back in the chair. It was hot today, but the humidity had dropped. The view was amazing from there on the stone terrace—the tall prairie grass and colorful flowers in the backyard swaying in the gentle breeze, the waves hitting the rocky beach. She envied Liam. It was two years ago that she’d almost bought the Myerson cottage. She’d fantasized once about taming these surroundings into a cottage garden. Well, not taming, really—who would want to cultivate such a wild, glorious place? Her brother had been very uneasy about the idea of Natalie living in such a secluded spot though, and Natalie hated the idea of him worrying about her. In the end, she’d bought her cozy town house instead.

It was the practical thing to do, but sitting there on the terrace, she couldn’t help but feel a very illogical longing.

“If I didn’t know I was in Michigan, I’d swear I was on the English coast,” she told Liam with a smile when he came through the screen door. She automatically took the iced tea he offered her, momentarily forgetting she’d said she didn’t want anything to drink. “It looks so similar.”

“Does it? I’ve never been,” Liam said as he plopped down in the chair that faced hers. His blue eyes were fixed to her mouth. She suddenly felt foolish for saying something so whimsical and took a sip of her tea.

“So what it is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Right. To business,” Liam said drolly.

“That is why you called me, isn’t it?”

His small shrug seemed to say that the reason would have to do.

“I don’t know how much you know about my father, but you knew that he was a lawyer,” Liam began.

She nodded. “He was the legal counsel for Langford, a defense contractor and publicly traded company. He’d worked there for over twenty years.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

She lifted her chin to face him. It must seem odd to him to know she’d gathered as much information on his father as she could over the years.

“I’ve told you how curious I was.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes steady on her face, before he took a swallow of tea and set down his glass on a wrought-iron table.

“Then you might know that for a half year before the accident, the Securities and Exchange Commission had been investigating Langford for fraudulent financial statements. As chief counsel for Langford, my father was a major part of that investigation.”

Her pulse began to throb in her throat. She’d wondered about this very issue. Was Liam saying that his father had acted so irresponsibly on that night sixteen years ago because he knew he might be implicated in Langford’s fraudulent practices?

“I had heard about it,” she said quietly. “Just an occasional reference here and there in some old news clippings about the crash. The SEC came out several weeks after the accident and announced that no charges would be made following an investigation at Langford. I thought no wrongdoing was found.”

“There wasn’t any wrongdoing,” Liam said soberly.

“Then…why are you telling me this?”

He paused to take a sip of his tea before he continued. Natalie found herself admiring the muscular movement of his tanned throat as he swallowed. She guiltily met his gaze when he spoke.

“I’m telling you because I figured that you, like most people, would have come up with some sort of conspiracy angle when they heard about the SEC’s investigation. It goes something like this, I can imagine—Derry Kavanaugh swindles thousands of honest shareholders with fraudulent financial reports. When he gets caught by the SEC, though, he can’t stand the prospect of his family and the public knowing he’s nothing but a dirty criminal. He’d rather die than face the music. So he gets smashed one night and in the process of offing himself, selfishly takes three other lives as well.”

Her cheeks burned at his seemingly casual recital. Maybe he’d stated it bluntly to make a point, but what he’d said was true. She had wondered if something akin to that was behind Derry Kavanaugh’s erratic actions that night. Despite her embarrassment, she refused to be cowed by Liam’s subtle sarcasm.

“I’ll admit I wondered about the SEC’s investigation. Even if he’d been innocent, your father might have been overwrought. The investigation had gone on for months. That’s a terrific amount of pressure to live under, especially when he had to keep working and putting up a brave front. Many people would crack under stress like that.”

She paused, feeling self-conscious when Liam said nothing but just studied her, his long legs bent before him and his arms sprawled on the sides of the chair. Beneath his seeming insouciance, she sensed a diamond-hard edge, however, a tension that belied all that relaxed male brawn.

It made her wary, this difficulty she had in reading him. Was he angry?

“How do you know that wasn’t the case with your father?” she persisted, despite her uncertainty.

“Because my father knew that the SEC wasn’t going to level any charges at the time of the accident.”

“What?” Natalie asked, sitting forward. “But the SEC didn’t announce that until weeks after the crash.”

“True,” Liam said briskly. “But I accessed Langford’s financial disclosures. The details of the investigation are in the files. The SEC had finished their investigation and made their determination weeks before the accident. The announcement just wasn’t made to the public until a stockholders’ meeting several weeks later. As chief legal counsel, my father knew the SEC’s decision as soon as it was made. I have a dated memo that proves that fact. My father definitely knew Lang-ford was cleared of any wrongdoing at the time of the accident.”

“I see.”

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“No. No, of course not,” she said, irritated. How could he be so warm at times, and at others, downright confronta-tional? “I want the truth, not easy answers.”

Something about the tilt of his mouth before he took another swallow of his tea made her think he doubted her.

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked impulsively.

“Sure.”

“Did you already know what you just told me, or was it news to you?”

He shooed a buzzing fly away with a lazy flip of his hand before he answered. “I knew, but in a family-knowledge kind of way. I wasn’t sure of the facts.”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asked. She leaned forward even farther in her chair. She couldn’t help it. She was sitting with a man who had known firsthand the secrets of the Kavanaugh house. Things that Natalie had wondered about incessantly were common knowledge to Liam.

Something sparked in his eyes when he noticed her curi-osity…her eagerness.

“So this is the part where it’s handy to have an inside man for your investigator?” he asked softly.

“It’s not bizarre that I would want to know what you know.”

His nostrils flared slightly as he studied her, but then he sighed and glanced toward the lake. The sunlight reflecting off the water seemed to make his eyes even more electric blue than usual.

“True. But your interest makes me uncomfortable. People tend to keep family stuff close. Until Mari Itani came back to town a year ago, we hardly ever mentioned the crash amongst ourselves. Hell, my sister Deidre took off after the crash and hasn’t been back to Harbor Town since, let alone sat around for chats about our father getting bombed one night and killing himself and three other people.”

Guilt seeped into her awareness. She wasn’t the only one who carried open wounds. For a few seconds, she wasn’t sure what to say.

“You wonder if I’ve asked you to unlock Pandora’s box,” she said quietly after a moment.

His gaze narrowed on her, and Natalie realized she’d been correct in what she’d said. This was the source of the conflict she sensed in him.

“My mother told us when we were young that people might make snide comments about Dad being mixed up in fraud soon after the accident. She was right. Kids can be cruel. They overhear their parents saying stuff, and they might not understand the content, but they get the tone. My mom prepared us by explaining that the investigation at Langford had showed no wrongdoing. Until you asked me to look into matters officially, I had no way of proving what my mother told us, though. Now I can. I’ve seen the records.” He flashed a hard look before he took a sip of his tea. “Turns out that my mother was right all along. My father didn’t have a meltdown on that night because he thought he was going to be exposed as a crook.”

“Do you really think I’m disappointed because you didn’t discover some dirt on your father?” she asked incredulously.

His teeth flashed white in his tanned face, but he hardly looked amused. “It would have been a convenient story for you. Something to hang your hat on.”

“I told you I was interested in the truth, whatever that may be,” she countered. “I’m not your enemy, Liam. I’d like to think we’re on the same side.”

“It might seem like we’re on the same side until I uncover something that makes my father look worse than he already does. Did you ever think about that when you cooked up this little scheme?”

She sat rigid in her chair. His voice had been quiet, but she sensed his volatility.

“I didn’t do this to take your memories of your father away from you. If it’s true that you discover something about him that you don’t like in this process, I’m sorry. More sorry than you know. But if that were the case, it wouldn’t be me that changed the way you thought of your father. It would have been him, Liam. And you…because you were honest enough to look for the truth.”

His stare burned all the way down to her heart, but she didn’t back down.

“I hired you for several different reasons,” she continued in a hushed tone, “but the main one was that you search for the truth at all costs. That’s the conclusion I came to after I spoke with Mari and after I read all those articles about your undercover work that exposed all those corrupt cops.”

He abruptly collapsed back in his chair, the palpable tension in his muscles dissipating. He exhaled heavily.

“I hope you made a good decision,” he said.

“I did. Besides, has it ever occurred to you that the opposite might occur?”

His drawn brows told her he wasn’t following.

“You might uncover something that makes you understand your father better than ever before. You might gain an even clearer picture of Derry Kavanaugh. Perhaps you’ll be able to love your father more…not less.”

Something flashed in his eyes that she couldn’t interpret. For a few seconds, only the sounds of the waves hitting the beach and the birds twittering in the trees reached her ears.

“How long have you danced?” he asked abruptly, taking her by surprise.

“What?”

A lopsided grin tilted his mouth. “How long have you danced?” he repeated slowly. “It’s pretty obvious you’ve been doing it a long time. You’re very talented.” His gaze turned warm. “I had no idea accountants could be so…flexible.”

She blushed. Damn him. His was turning the focus of the conversation onto her to keep it off himself. He constantly made her feel like an awkward adolescent. And he did it without effort. She sipped her tea and glanced out at the lake, squinting behind her sunglasses.

“I told you no one was meant to see that. It’s not very kind of you to keep bringing it up,” she said coolly.

He looked genuinely confused by her statement. “I’m not being unkind, I’m just…fascinated.”

She turned to him, her lips parted. “Fascinated? By what?”

“By you. Does that surprise you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly.

He laughed after a second. She couldn’t imagine why he seemed so bewildered when she was the one who was utterly baffled.

“So…how long? Have you danced?” he clarified when she just continued to gape at him.

“I started ballet when I was eight years old,” she said.

“You’re good enough to do it professionally. Don’t you want to?” he asked matter-of-factly.

She was the one to laugh this time. “Forgive me for saying so, but I don’t think you’re much of an expert.” When he quirked his eyebrows at her, she laughed some more. “I like to dance for fun. I still take lessons. It’s a hobby, but I think it’d be a monumental mistake to quit my day job.”

His shrug seemed to say he’d let her have her way because he didn’t want to ruffle her feathers any more than he already had. Natalie decided that it was imperative to bring this conversation back to professional matters.

“Liam—” She paused when he tensed. His steady gaze unnerved her. “What…why are you looking at me like that?” she mumbled incredulously.

“It’s nice…the way you say my name. So, where were you going when I called you?” he asked. Natalie blinked. Had he really just said he liked the sound of her saying his name with so much heat, and then switched the topic as casually as if he was making a comment about the weather?

“I was on my way to my brother’s. I was going to make him dinner, if he was available.”

“Why don’t you let me make you dinner instead? I grill a mean steak and make a mediocre salad.”

“That’s not necessary—”

“I know it’s not necessary. I want to. Why are you so surprised by that?”

“It’ll take more than Liam Kavanaugh offering to cook a meal to surprise me,” she shot back in the midst of her rising confusion.

Her breath caught when he leaned forward and examined her through a narrowed gaze.

“You’re not being honest,” he murmured, his light tone belying his X-raying gaze. “You’re surprised that I want to have dinner with you. Why would you be surprised that a man would want to have dinner with a beautiful woman, Natalie?”

Chapter Three

He’d give anything to comprehend what was going on in that brain of hers. One second she was acting like a skittish colt and the next she was saying something deadpan in that low, sexy voice of hers, reminding him for all the world of a sophisticated Bacall baiting Bogie.

She was a puzzle, and the detective in him needed to figure her out.

Liam bit off a potent urge to ask her to take off her glasses. He knew she wore them to protect her sensitive eye, so he refrained. Barely. They’d sat there and talked for the past half hour and almost the entire time he’d been hungry to look into those soft, dark eyes…When he wasn’t admiring her elegant arms, or the slope of her shoulders, or her legs or her firm, full breasts.

He felt guilty about it, but he wasn’t really sorry that the cleaning lady had switched on that light the other night. He was greedy. If that light hadn’t gone on, he wouldn’t have been gifted with the vision of Natalie’s exquisite face and huge, startled eyes.

He wouldn’t have sacrificed that.

Why did he have this almost overwhelming need to touch her again, like he had the other night? She’d quivered in his arms like a shaking leaf, but she’d felt so soft.

She’d fit against him perfectly. He couldn’t quiet the desire to explore every nuance of that fit.

It was a mistake to ask her to dinner. He saw how tense she’d gone at his suggestion and he sank back in his chair.

“It’s just dinner, Natalie.”

“I know that,” she replied quickly.

He felt bad. Gone was the impenetrable woman with the quick tongue. She seemed flustered. He thought it would be prudent to give her some space to gather herself. He stood. “I’ll go and defrost some steaks and then take a quick shower. Are you going to be okay out here for a few minutes?”

“I…yes, but—”

“Great, because I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll tell you the rest of what I found out over dinner.”

“There’s more?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

Bingo, Liam thought. He’d hit the right button. He wondered, though, when she spoke next.

“Don’t defrost the steaks,” she said suddenly. Liam was positive she was about to say it would be prudent for her to leave.

“I was just at the grocery store. I have steaks in the car. If we don’t eat them, they’ll go bad.”

He forced himself not to grin too widely as he asked her for her keys and went to retrieve the meat.

While Liam showered, Natalie wandered through the yard and climbed out onto the rocky breakwater that partially surrounded the small beach. The breakwater seemed ancient. Natalie wondered if it had been created by the cottage’s first owners. She stood on a slick slab of dark gray granite, breathing deeply of the fresh air.

“Don’t fall. Those rocks are sharp enough to do some damage,” Liam yelled from the terrace.

Natalie spun around. He stood on the terrace, his hair still damp from the shower, the wind causing his blue cotton shirt to billow around his torso. She hopped from one rock to another and rose up the incline to the terrace.

“The wind has really picked up,” she said as she sprang up the steps. She paused when she saw his expression. She smoothed several loose wisps of hair that had escaped her bun, suddenly self-conscious under his stare.

“Hmm,” Liam mused as he regarded her. “Guess I don’t have to warn you about falling on the rocks. Might as well tell a gazelle not to be clumsy.”

Embarrassment and pleasure flooded her in equal measure. She glanced away. “Why don’t you let me make the salad? I can do a few grades better than mediocre.”

“Sure, if you don’t think you’ll mind the smell.”

Actually, the odor from the floor stain was barely noticeable and Natalie said so when Liam led her into the house. Thanks to all the open windows and the wind coming off Lake Michigan the house smelled as fresh as a wild meadow.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise when she followed Liam into the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me you put in new cabinets. They look wonderful. And the floors…they’re gorgeous,” she said, peering into the empty dining room just off the kitchen.

“Thanks,” Liam said. “How’d you know the cabinets were new?”

“Oh…I looked at the cottage several years ago when I was shopping around for a place.”

He chuckled before he opened the new stainless steel refrigerator and started pulling out supplies for a salad. “You’re a lot smarter than me if you didn’t buy it.”

“Oh, no. Don’t say that. This house is amazing.”

“What made you decide not to buy it?” Liam asked as he straightened and shut the refrigerator with a thump. He deposited an armload of vegetables near the sink.

She shrugged and wandered over to where she’d spotted a knife block with a wooden cutting board turned on its side against the back of the countertop. “Oh, you know…it’s not a very practical place for a single woman and all. My brother didn’t think it was a great idea.”

“What did you think?” Natalie was highly aware of him watching her as he leaned against the counter. He now wore a different pair of cargo shorts and a loose blue T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes and seemed to make his tan glow. He hadn’t put on any shoes. He was the picture of sexy summertime ease. She made a point of avoiding the appealing image of him as she withdrew the cutting board.

“I think this place is brilliant,” she said, smiling. “I used to sneak over here when I was little and wander around. No one lived here for over twenty years.”

“Maybe prospective buyers didn’t like the bats that were flying around in the attic,” Liam said dryly.

She made a face. “The real estate agent never showed me the bats.”

“That’s a shocker.”

She smiled and removed some juicy-looking tomatoes from a sack. “I never saw them as a kid, either. When I was nine years old, not even bats could have convinced me this place wasn’t enchanted. I’d sneak away when my mother took us to the beach and dozed off. There’s a path that runs from White Sands to here.”

“I know.”

She glanced up when she heard the huskiness of his voice.

“I took it the other night. That’s when I saw you dancing,” he said as their stares held.

She looked away. There it was again. He kept bringing up that moment he’d spied her dancing on the beach. It’d been a perfectly innocent occurrence. Natalie couldn’t imagine why it felt as if Liam was reminding her that he’d seen her naked every time he brought it up.

“Strainer?” Natalie asked briskly.

He turned and opened a cabinet, removing both a stainless steel strainer and a white salad bowl.

“Natalie.”

She glanced up as she reached for the items.

“I can close the shades if the room is too bright.”

She blushed. “Don’t bother. I’m fine. The tint of my glasses alters to the brightness of the light.” She turned on the water and began rinsing the vegetables, highly aware the whole time of Liam looking down at her. He’d said she fascinated him earlier. Was he, perhaps, one of those men she’d encountered infrequently over the years who confused pity for attraction? Given their circumstances, Liam might feel an even stronger tendency for misplaced pity.

Natalie wasn’t unrealistic. Men had been interested before. She wasn’t the worst catch on the planet. It wasn’t her facial scars that stood as a barrier to her having relationships with men. No, it was the way the scars had interfered with a normal social development that had done that. She’d been on the brink of adolescence during those excruciating months in the hospital. Girls at that age were highly concerned about their appearance. Compound that natural self-consciousness with a traumatic head injury, multiple broken bones and facial wounds that had made half her face look like ground beef before the surgeries—not to mention a mother, a lifeline, who had been ripped away from her during that critical period—and the makings of a socially awkward adult woman were all in the mix.

“I’ll go and throw the steaks on the grill,” Liam said a few seconds later. Was it her overactive imagination, or did he seem disappointed in her sudden fascination with clean vegetables?

She mechanically went about her task. Most of her brain was busy telling her foolish heart to slow. She shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with him. This curiosity about his father and the Kavanaughs was tempting her to venture farther and farther into intimidating, unknown waters.

No, that wasn’t honest. It was her fascination with Liam that was risky.

Natalie had never slept with a man. She knew she was a bizarre anomaly in this day and age—a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. Liam, on the other hand, was the most confident, gorgeous man she’d ever imagined, let alone encountered. The idea of Liam and her engaging in any kind of sexual mating dance was just…ridiculous.

“We’re going to get rain,” Liam said as he entered the kitchen ten minutes later, carrying two grilled steaks.

Natalie nodded as she set the knife down on the cutting board. In fact the natural light in the kitchen had grown dimmer and the wind had started to howl across the dunes and the rocks, causing the window blinds to rattle. “We should go and shut your western windows.”

“Yeah, I guess we should,” Liam said as he set down the steaks on the counter. “You get the downstairs ones and I’ll get upstairs?”

They met back in the kitchen a few minutes later, the sound of the wind now a distant wail. Natalie was finishing setting the round oak table in a nook in the kitchen when he returned.

“Is this okay? I know you planned to eat outside, but—”

“No, this is great,” Liam enthused. He hadn’t seemed to notice the awkwardness that had settled on her when she realized how intimate the setting was—the approaching storm, the cozy kitchen, just the two of them sitting down to a meal. He was so comfortable in his skin he didn’t know how to recognize self-consciousness in others, Natalie thought.

He placed the steaks on the table next to the salad and walked over to the refrigerator. “Is iced tea okay?”

“I already poured us two glasses. They’re chilling off.”

“Excellent,” Liam murmured with a satisfied grin as he brought the glasses over to the table.

“It looks like it’s possible you weren’t bragging when you said you made a mean steak,” she said as they sat down together. Liam took her plate and began to serve her. Rain began to spatter on the windows.

“I never brag. Only the absolute truth ever leaves these lips.” He’d said it so soberly, but his sudden grin was pure devilry.

“We’ll see.”

His eyebrows quirked in interest at her challenge, and Natalie thought she understood why. With another man, her reply would have sounded cool. For some reason with Liam, it had seemed like she was flirting.

She rolled her eyes and picked up her knife and fork.

The beef melted on her tongue. He’d cooked it to perfection. He was gentleman enough not to say anything out loud, but the look he gave her read loud and clear—I told you so.

They both started to talk at once.

“Why did you let your brother talk you out of buying this place?” he asked.

“What else were you going to tell me about—”

She broke off when his question penetrated her awareness. She smiled a little uncomfortably and took a bite of salad.

“Personal before professional,” Liam said before he stabbed his fork into the meat.

“I didn’t let Eric talk me out of moving here. I came to the conclusion this place was too much work for me.”

“Uh-huh,” Liam said doubtfully.

Thunder rumbled outside.

She paused and sat back in her chair. “Why do you say it like that? Do I seem like that much of a pushover?”

He took a swallow of his tea. “Not at all. I’ve just heard about your brother. He has a reputation for having…strong opinions,” Liam said with the air of someone who was choosing his words carefully.

“And this reputation you speak of,” she said slowly. “Was it, perhaps, provided to you by your sister Colleen?”

He studied her for a moment before he forked some salad. “Let me guess. Eric has given you the opinion Colleen is a bit of a steamroller herself.”

She laughed when she saw the sparkle in his eyes.

“Maybe they’re both a little right,” Natalie murmured, still grinning. “I wouldn’t call Eric a steamroller, necessarily, but he’s very decisive. And he worries about me a lot. Too much, really, but I understand. He was eighteen when we lost Mom and I was only eleven. We don’t have any other family here in the states. My father died in Puerto Rico soon after my mother discovered she was pregnant with me. She and Eric came here with practically nothing but the clothes on their back and my mother’s dreams of giving her kids a chance for something better than she’d ever had.”

“What did your father die of?”

“Cancer. I never knew him,” Natalie replied quietly. Wind-driven rain struck the panes in earnest now. She raised a bite of meat to her mouth and glanced at Liam. “Are you and Col-leen close?”

“Yeah, we are,” he said unabashedly.

“And what about your other sister, Deidre?”

Liam nodded. “The three of us are all close in age—eighteen months between Deidre and Colleen, fifteen between Colleen and me. But Deidre hasn’t really lived in Harbor Town since she went to college. She was always working in other towns on her vacations. She was an army nurse for years, but recently she became a civilian. She’s still got wanderlust, though. She’s working in a hospital in Germany, at the moment. We talk as much as we can, but it’s hard while she’s overseas. Deidre is actually one of the reasons Marc and my mom pressured me to leave the Chicago P.D.”

“What do you mean?”

Liam grinned crookedly. “Okay, I was exaggerating a little. But before Deidre was in Germany, she spent two years in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was hard enough for my mom worrying about whether or not I was getting shot on the streets. Knowing Deidre had bombs exploding around her hardly made for peaceful nights for her.”

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Natalie said before she reached for her glass.

“What doesn’t surprise you?”

“You becoming an organized crime detective…or Deidre ending up as a nurse serving in combat. You guys were always such daredevils. I remember how Deidre performed in that water show on Mackinac Island during the summers.”

“Yeah. Deidre’s an excellent trick skier. My dad taught her. He taught us all.”

“He did?” Natalie asked, unable to contain her curiosity over this tidbit of information about a man who had remained such a puzzle to her.

Liam nodded. “He and his brothers were all naturals in the water—swimming, diving and skiing.”

Natalie paused, digesting this novel information about Derry Kavanaugh. When Liam glanced at her, she thought she might have seemed too curious, so she kept the topic on a safer playing field.

“Every little girl in Harbor Town thought Deidre was a goddess. I did. She was so cool I couldn’t even fathom her.” Natalie smiled in reminiscence.

“Really? You knew who Deidre was?”

“Of course. Everyone knew the Kavanaughs in Harbor Town.”

“Did you know me?”

“I knew who you were.” The “safe” topic had quickly veered into dangerous territory. “Now…I answered your question from before. You answer mine.”

“I’d rather hear what you thought of me.”

“I’m sure you would.”

She stilled when he leaned toward her and spoke in a mock-serious, confidential manner. “I’d really rather hear about the girl doing the thinking.”

After a stunned moment, she laughed. She couldn’t help it. No matter how much she knew she should keep a distance from him, Liam’s charm was impossible to ignore. He chuckled right along with her. She suddenly became aware of how close he was to her. His teeth were even and straight. Some orthodontist had made a mint off of Liam. He had a deep dimple in his right cheek. She could see the thousands of points of color in eyes that reminded her of the sea on a sunny day—cerulean blue with green, aquamarine and topaz interspersed, adding to their depth and brilliance.

His smile faded. His brows drew together. He straightened and focused on eating his meal, suddenly looking serious and even a little fearsome in his intensity.

A thick silence settled. Natalie resumed eating as well, even though her taste buds didn’t seem to be working any longer. Liam had undoubtedly remembered the purpose of their meeting wasn’t fun and laughter. It wasn’t as if they were old school friends or lovers. No, they were members of two families with a shared history of tragedy and strife who had joined together, albeit warily, for a very somber mission.

Natalie was glad Liam must have realized that as they sat together, eating dinner while rain spattered on the windows.

She’d do well to recall the same.

The rainstorm blew out as quickly as it had rolled in. By the time Liam had loaded the dishwasher and Natalie had straightened the counters, the sun was poking through the clouds, making the wet rocks on the beach and breakwater gleam.

The uncomfortable tension that had settled between them had never really faded while they finished their meal. Natalie found herself longing for escape. She was about to tell Liam she needed to stop by her office to see to a few important items when Liam shut the dishwasher and stood to his full height.

“Now that the rain stopped, let’s go out on the terrace. I’ll tell you the other thing that might—” he threw her a warning glance “—or might not, be important.”

“Okay,” Natalie said, her curiosity piqued, despite his attempt at downplaying things.

The lounge chairs were still beaded with raindrops so Liam and Natalie remained standing, both of them gazing out at the lake which was mostly gray except where shards of sunlight created bands of light blue. The quick storm had brought a drop in temperature. A breeze off the lake caused Natalie to shiver. She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms to warm herself, all the while noticing that Liam seemed unaffected. He stared out at the lake, his arms crossed below his chest, his bold profile fixed and thoughtful.

“I guess you probably know that my dad was at the Silver Dunes Country Club bar before the accident.”

“Yes,” Natalie said softly, aware of the sensitivity of the topic. “The Club was investigated for overserving him.”

“The club was cleared of that charge,” Liam said. “My father had several drinks there, but witnesses and the bartender said he didn’t appear drunk, just quiet. Sullen.” He glanced swiftly over at her. “The Silver Dunes had a video camera mounted over the bar. The film was used to investigate whether or not the bartender or the Silver Dunes had any culpability in my dad’s intoxication and allowing him to get behind the wheel of a car that night.”

“Your father’s insurance company’s attorneys used the video in the hearings as well,” Natalie added in a hushed tone.

Liam nodded, his expression rocklike. “Right. The insurance company tried to use the tape to say it wasn’t possible that my dad was as intoxicated as the suit suggested, and therefore was not as reckless as was alleged. The bartender served him three drinks in the span of an hour and a half. Not ideal, but not enough to make a six-foot-four-inch, nearly two hundred pound man looped out of his mind. But the lab reports don’t lie. If my father hadn’t gotten tanked at the Silver Dunes Country Club that night, he’d poured enough booze down his throat later on to get a platoon ripped.”