She nodded slowly, appreciating the thought, even if his words made it eminently clear this was in no way any kind of date.

You knew that already, dimwit. She just had to keep reminding herself of that fact. Wyatt wasn't ready to even consider letting their relationship turn into anything other than friendship.

Even if she knew, deep down, that a part of him wanted to.

It didn't prove an easy task. As she sat by his side in the car, breathing in the fragrance that was uniquely Wyatt, listening to the soft strains of jazz coming from the car speakers, it was hard to remember this was just a way to kill some time. Arriving at a small oceanfront restaurant a couple of towns away and being seated at an intimate corner table, with chairs placed side by side, rather than across from each other, made it even harder.

Obviously the seating was designed with the beach view in mind. And it was glorious, watching the purple shades and shadows of twilight begin to descend over the sand and the surf. Under other circumstances, she might be grateful for it. It was hard to be grateful, however, when with every move he made, his trousers brushed her bare calf, or his arm the tips of her fingers.

By the time their appetizer was delivered, she was actually shaking a little in her seat.

"What's wrong?" he asked, waiting until the flirty waitress, who'd been much more interested in taking Wyatt's order than hers, had moved out of earshot.

"Nothing. I'm just a little edgy. This isn't easy for me."

"You're going to have to get used to it sooner or later, aren't you?"

"To going out to dinner with you?" she asked, the words popping out of her mouth in old-Lily fashion before she could stop them.

He didn't acknowledge how that must have sounded-like a hint that she wanted this to be more than a simple dinner between friends. Thank God.

"I meant, you have to get used to being out in the world. Doing such normal things as going out to a restaurant."

Before, her words had been impulsive, nervous. Now I she put a little thought into them. And still she had to ask, "Going on dates, you mean?"

She wondered if he'd be able to maintain that cool, impassive front. She shouldn't have. As always, he kept his emotions, his reactions, entirely in check, as if he was so accustomed to guarding them, he couldn't be surprised by anything or anyone.

"Going anywhere," he told her. His faint smile emphasized the strong curve of his lips and the sparkle in his beautiful eyes. "Not that I think you ever lacked for dates."

"You might be surprised," she admitted wryly as she reached for a breadstick and snapped it in half. She twirled one half in her fingers, as if it were a big, fat cigarette, and suddenly realized she hadn't even had the urge to look for her lone pack since the night he had arrived.

"I know things had been pretty bad for a while. But before that, you must have had some sort of personal life. Friends, relationships. Something resembling normal."

"Do you have anything resembling normal?" she shot back, almost in challenge.

He hesitated: then the smile widened. "Touche."

"I don't think it's entirely possible in our line of work," she said, half-glad Wyatt had just admitted he didn't date and hadn't had any recent relationships. Half-sad for the very same reasons, because it confirmed what she'd known about him from the very start: that he was a loner, an enigma wrapped in secrets, surrounded by mystery, and almost untouchable by anyone he didn't invite to get close.

She had once wanted to get close. Very close. Emotionally, anyway.

Now she wanted to get even closer. Not emotionally- Lily wasn't about to get her feelings tangled up in anything anytime soon. But physically? Yes. She'd been thinking about it for months and Friday had confirmed it. She wanted Wyatt Blackstone. And if she thought he'd say yes, she'd ask him to take her back to the house right now and spend the rest of the weekend in her bed.

But he wouldn't say yes. Of that she had no doubt.

Despite the self-realization, for the next hour, she somehow managed to act normal. Nibble on the bread-stick, sip her glass of wine. Chat lightly, actually laughing a few times when he made one of his dry observations about the not exactly four-star food and service.

In fact, once she allowed herself to acknowledge the truth about what she wanted-even knowing she'd never get it-she actually managed to let her guard down and start to enjoy herself. Almost enough to imagine this was just a normal dinner date, and they were a normal man and woman.

"You can't tell me there was no one."

The sudden change in subject confused her. They'd just been talking about the way the chef must have stock in Old Bay seasoning, since he used it with all the subtlety and lightness of a road crew spreading salt after an ice storm. So at first she didn't follow. "Huh?"

"Before."

Before.

"You haven't been alone your entire life."

Oh, hell, they were back to personal talk about romance and relationships. Food, bad cooks, spices, and road salt she could deal with; they could cover those subjects all night long. Sex? No way, no how.

"You have been in love, haven't you? Isn't that something you want for yourself again? "

The quiet tone didn't disguise the piercing curiosity in his eyes. It was as if all this time, all this light conversation, had merely been the camouflage he'd used to creep in under her defenses, so they could get right back where they'd been an hour ago.

"You're good," she said, shaking her head ruefully.

"So they say." Wyatt was never cocky, only confident. So the words that could have sounded wrong coming from another type of man sounded sexy and absolutely right from him.

He lifted his drink, sipping the martini, watching her over the rim of the glass.

"I've been in love," she admitted with a shrug. "Or in very strong like."

"What happened?"

"He didn't appreciate being with a woman who carried a gun."

He laughed softly. "Terrified him, did you?"

It was rather funny. Before this year, she'd fired that weapon only during her bureau training and never removed it from its holster once in the line of duty. "I guess so. I'm terribly intimidating, you know." With an impish grin, she added, "Or so they say."

His amusement didn't quite reach his eyes. "Didn't he know you were an office nerd, and couldn't hurt a fly?"

"You wound me."

"Just stating the obvious."

"You think you know me so well?"

His voice intense, thick, he replied, "I hope I do."

Maybe he did. A year ago, she would have agreed with his assessment. Now, though? Well, she couldn't be entirely sure of who she was anymore. "I guess you never know what you're capable of until you're in the heat of the moment."

"Heat, yes." He leaned closer over the table. "In the white heat of danger or passion, I believe, anyone is capable of anything."

She swallowed hard, ignoring the word passion, focusing on the other. "Exactly. In danger, would I pull out that weapon and use it on someone?"

He waited for her to continue.

"You're damn right I would."

"And were you not in danger?"

She knew what he was asking, where he was going. Wyatt was still carefully dancing around the whole idea of vengeance. Her going after the man who'd attacked her and getting even in the most violent way possible.

Part of her wanted to lie, to be the kick-ass woman she'd told herself she'd become. But she couldn't. Not to him. Not convincingly, anyway. "No," she admitted. "I couldn't kill someone in cold blood."

"Even someone vile? Someone you hated?"

Like she hated Lovesprettyboys? "I wouldn't cry if someone else did it. But no. Not even then. Taking a life is something I simply couldn't do unless I were forced into it. Not even a villain's. Certainly not someone innocent."