Without a warrant, and with the need for extreme discretion, there hadn't been much they could do. Which was why, instead of leaving on Friday, as she'd expected, as she'd wanted, Wyatt had remained here with her throughout the holiday weekend.

It had been an awkward couple of days. Lily didn't really understand why, but this trip, this time she'd spent with Wyatt, had been more difficult than the times before it. Something had disappeared. Their ease with each other, perhaps. Or the quiet comfort she'd felt from him, the sense of security from knowing he was in the next room.

There had been no more intimate, late-night talks on the patio, no visits to her room to drag her from her night terrors-of which there had been a few. She'd stayed in her bed, telling him she was fine when he'd asked through the door if she was okay the previous night. They had, in fact, almost been tiptoeing around each other since Friday, talking only about the case. Keeping a physical distance, and an emotional one.

You know why.

She tried to ignore that little voice as she showered late Sunday afternoon. Just as she'd been ignoring it all weekend. But she couldn't fool herself forever.

She knew.

In recent months, Wyatt had consoled her and lent her a strong arm. He'd carried her; he'd shielded her. Recently, he'd even begun to verbally spar with her, acknowledging-as Brandon would not-that Lily was strong enough to take it. And, in fact, wanted it.

But then he had pulled her onto his lap Friday when she'd nearly broken down. He had held her close, letting her feel his hard, muscular form, smell the warm aroma of his skin, even share every breath because their mouths were so close. During that unexpected encounter, everything had changed. Everything.

It was probably a good thing she had recognized the voice on the tape at just that moment, for any number of reasons. One of which was that her leaping to her feet in shock had prevented her from doing something crazy. Like, oh, wrapping her arms around his neck, sinking her hands into his thick, dark hair, and tugging his mouth to hers for a crazy-hot kiss that she had fantasized about since she'd first set eyes on his strong mouth.

She'd been fooling herself the other morning, thinking she could ignore the sexual attraction she felt toward the man, or think about it rationally, coolly, and decide if she wanted to act on it. Because there had been nothing rational or cool in that long, intimate moment. And while it had started as an embrace of comfort, she'd known, somehow, that his awareness had been as strong as her own.

Never in her former life had Lily believed she had a chance with Wyatt Blackstone. Never had she imagined him looking at her with dark blue eyes made darker with want. Yet in that one single moment, when she'd lifted her head and met his stare head-on, she'd seen that want. Maybe even had that chance.

It had scared the hell out of her. Though she didn't believe there was much that could surprise Wyatt Black-stone, she suspected it had even taken him off guard.

He wasn't supposed to lust after wounded, innocent little Lily. He'd been so careful around her since Friday afternoon. Watching her closely, yet not coming close. Offering his support, yet never touching her. Providing a comforting presence without really being wholly present, at least not mentally. Because his thoughts were guarded, somewhere far away, and he wouldn't reveal, by word or expression, what he was really thinking.

Part of her was glad he was holding back, acting as if it hadn't happened. Another part wanted to grab him and demand that he look at her like that at least one more time before he left.

"Maybe you'll get your shot," she whispered as she got out of the shower and dried off. Because, almost against her own better judgment, she had agreed to go out to dinner with him tonight. Not on any kind of a date, of course. He just wanted to drag her out into the world, away from the beach house for a little while, and knew shed be more likely to go sit down at a restaurant if a familiar face was across from her.

It was her first step into some semblance of a social life since before last January. The first meal she'd eat in a restaurant since she and Jackie had gone out to lunch a few days before the attack.

She was nervous. Her hand actually shook as she tried to apply a little of the makeup she'd picked up at the local general store but had never even opened. She'd bought it thinking she might try to disguise the scars around her ear. Not out of vanity, but to make herself less recognizable as someone who'd been shot in the head. Now that her hair had grown in, though, she didn't need to. Yet she still put a little foundation on her face to even out her tan lines and a swipe of mascara across her lashes to make them look a little prettier despite the drab brown contact lenses.

When she was finished, and looked in the mirror, she saw the woman the world would see. Relief flowed through her. Compact and slender, with her short, dark hair, dark eyes, and serious set to her mouth, she looked nothing like her old self. While it should have been a little disconcerting to see a stranger staring back at her, she liked the feeling.

Lily felt… anonymous. Free. Confident enough that no one would know her, she was almost looking forward to going out in the world for one evening to try to forget about everything else.

Maybe she'd be this way forever. Maybe she'd never go back to her old life. She could stay dark-haired and dark-eyed and tough. Could leave here and go prowl the world, seeing what it had to offer, no longer marked by the sadness or the violence of her past.

Then she thought of Wyatt and Brandon, and everything they'd done for her. She thought of Jackie, of Dean, Kyle, and Alec. They had been more than her coworkers; they had been her friends. They had mourned her. Grieved for her.

When she did decide to return to the real world, every one of them deserved the chance to tell her to go to hell for what she'd put them through.

She frowned at her reflection, then turned away. The guilt over keeping her survival hidden from people who cared about her was another heavy weight, one she knew she had to get off her back someday. After that, though, all bets were off Unless somebody gave her a better alternative, she would be free to go out and live whatever life she chose for herself. It was almost something to look forward to, though as recently as a few days ago, she hadn't been able to fathom it.

What, she wondered, had prompted it? Their breakthrough in the case, knowing they might soon find the man who'd taken her? Or Wyatt's presence? Maybe it had been the realization that whether he wanted to admit it or not, there was something between them, something far more than friendship or gratitude.

Heading downstairs promptly at six, as promised, she managed not to trip over her own feet on the bottom step as she saw Wyatt waiting for her. Damn, did the man really have to go and put on one of those perfectly tailored suits? In her long, flowing skirt, formfitting tank top, and cropped sweater, she was in no way a match for his elegance.

"Good," he said, nodding approvingly.

Not "You look good," she noted. He wasn't complimenting her looks. Just her disguise.

Typical man.

"Gee, thanks so much."

One of his brows quirked at her sarcastic tone. He didn't even realize what she might have wanted to hear from him. And she wasn't about to explain it.

"We really don't have to do this," she insisted as he retrieved her jacket and came over to help her put it on, the movement so graceful, so Wyatt, she wondered why more men didn't realize the appeal of such basic gentlemanly actions.

"Yes, we do," he murmured. "Don't tell me you're not exploding with frustration about this wait, because I know you are. And so am I. So let's just go out and try to be normal for the night. All the rest will still be here in the morning."