This was not a man who wanted the same things out of life that she did, Mollie thought. She enjoyed her work, too, but it wasn’t her life. Starting her own business had taken up much of her time in recent months, but she wanted balance in her life. Family, friends, vacations, afternoons with her feet up.

She considered herself forewarned. Or rewarned. Jeremiah was a formidable journalist, and although he hadn’t behaved unethically ten years ago, he hadn’t permitted her inside his world. Ultimately, perhaps that was why he’d lied-not for her sake, but for his own, to make sure she went back to Boston and out of his life. Loving someone scared the hell out of him.

She’d worked up a good head of steam by the time she bid her hosts good evening and started down the long, dark driveway. To hell with Tabak. She didn’t know why she’d wanted him around tonight. He was just keeping his options open. Damn him, anyway.

“Oh, shit!”

She was twenty yards up the main road before she realized she’d forgotten him. She turned around and went back, this time keeping an eye out for him and going slow enough that he’d have a chance to flag her down.

As she started around a curve, her headlights caught him.

No, not him. Another man. Thin, young, wearing dark clothes.

She stomped on the brake and held her breath, her window open to the sounds of the wind and the ocean, the pungent-sweet smells of the brush and trees. The man darted back behind a banyan tree. With a shaking hand, Mollie hit the lock on her door. She would drive up to the house and have her hosts call the police. Even if he was just a transient, he had no business on their property.

A tap came at the passenger window, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Jeremiah.

She rolled down the window. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Did you see that man? Where did he go?”

“He’s right behind me. His name’s Croc, and he’s a friend of mine.”

She blinked dumbly. “Croc?”

The skinny man poked his head out from behind Jeremiah and grinned. “Hey, Miss Mollie, how you doing?”

“I’m not doing very well at all at the moment. Who are you?”

“Jeremiah’s friend.”

Jeremiah grimaced. “That’s stretching it right now, Croc.”

Croc laughed. “He’s ready to string me up because I followed you two out here.” He cuffed Jeremiah on the shoulder. “But you spotted me, man. You’re not bad at this cloak and dagger shit.”

“Wait just a minute,” Mollie said. “Jeremiah, would you mind explaining to me what in hell’s going on here?”

“On our way back to your place-”

“Uh-uh. Now.”

He sighed, his patience obviously stretched beyond its meager limits. “I noticed Croc in a car behind us on our way over. I didn’t mention it because I wasn’t positive who it was, and because Croc’s not the easiest person to explain.”

“He’s your informant.” Mollie suddenly felt a chill. “He’s the one who discovered I was a common denominator.”

“The common denominator,” Croc corrected proudly.

Jeremiah shot him a look that would have silenced half of south Florida. His expression softened when he shifted back to Mollie. “I’m sorry if he scared you. He’s having trouble sorting out what’s his business and what’s not.”

“Boundary problems,” Croc said. “They go way back with me. Tabak’s been working on getting me on the straight and narrow.”

“I’ve known Croc about two years,” he said.

Mollie took in his words, trying to remain as cool as he was, as calmly professional. “And you couldn’t have told me about him.”

“Under the circumstances, no.”

“Until I meet him on a dark road in the middle of the night. Then you can tell me.”

Croc frowned. “It’s what, ten o’clock? That’s not the middle of the night.”

Mollie directed herself to him. “I could have run you over.”

“Not me. I’ve got quick reflexes.” He patted her rooftop. “Even a Jag I could dodge.”

“Croc,” Jeremiah said darkly, “if you don’t want Mollie to back up and try again, I’d shut the hell up.”

“Right,” Croc said.

Mollie felt like rolling her window up on both of them. “If anyone turns out to be missing so much as a dime-store ring tonight, I’ll have the police pay you two a visit. Consider yourselves lucky I don’t call them right now.” She gave them a fake smile. “Good night.”

And that was that. Croc started to argue, but Jeremiah grabbed him by the shirt, yanked him out of the way, and let Mollie pass. She did a neat three-point turn and continued on to the main road and out to Leonardo’s house, trying not to think about anything except the traffic, her speed, the turns she needed to make. Jeremiah had known this Croc had followed them to dinner. He hadn’t said anything. He’d been out there for the past three hours doing God only knew what, and she’d known it and had let it happen, had even made it happen. This wasn’t her property, these weren’t even her friends, not yet. They were Leonardo’s friends, and she had used them badly.

There were no two-way streets where Jeremiah Tabak was concerned.

It was something she desperately needed to remember.

“Guess you lost your ride home,” Croc said after Mollie had abandoned them.

Jeremiah gritted his teeth. It was pitch-dark, cool, raining again. “Croc, why I don’t hang you from this banyan, I don’t know.”

“What’d I do?”

“I have half a mind to drag your ass down to the police station.”

“What for?”

“Personal satisfaction.”

“Hey, I’m not your thief. For all we know, your tootsie there waltzed off with a trunkload of jewels.”

Jeremiah stopped in his tracks. He glared at Croc in the dark. With the clouds and the rain, it was not a pleasant night to be out. Croc’s shape was visible, just not any of his features. Which was just as well. The wrong look, the wrong glint in his eye, and Jeremiah didn’t know what he’d do. “Mollie is not your thief. Will you get that out of your head?”

“Okay. She’s not the thief.”

There was no conviction in his tone. Jeremiah sighed. “What’s your interest in this thing, Croc? Just explain that to me.”

“Keeps me off the streets.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

What Jeremiah calculated was the last of the guests drove past, making it relatively safe for him and Croc to walk out on the driveway instead of in the wet brush. He didn’t mind, but Croc kept expecting alligators and snakes. “I’m probably full of spiders,” he grumbled when they hit smooth pavement.

“Good,” Jeremiah said.

“You’re a heartless bastard, you know?”

“I haven’t strangled you yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, so I should be grateful. You want a ride home?”

“My truck’s at Mollie’s. It’s not that far. I can walk.”

“What, and give her time to have your truck towed? That’ll cost you a mint. You know, she’s pissed because you didn’t tell her she was being followed.”

“If you will recall, I didn’t know for sure it was you.”

“Yep,” Croc said, “I recall.”

After he’d slipped from Mollie’s car, Jeremiah had hidden in the brush and waited for whoever had followed her to make an appearance. It was Croc’s good fortune that Jeremiah had recognized him before he’d decked him. As it was, he’d scared the daylights out of one twenty-something informant.

“My car’s down the road about a quarter-mile,” Croc said.

Jeremiah relented. “All right. You can drive me back to Mollie’s. But I suggest you crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of and leave her the hell alone. Understood?”

“Aye-aye, mon capitaine.”

Jeremiah charged down the driveway, Croc on his heels, unruffled. That they’d managed to avoid being spotted by any of tonight’s dinner guests suggested Croc had deliberately let Mollie see him. He’d wanted to find out what she would do, and he’d wanted to meet her.

“Think about it, Tabak.” Croc was having to move fast to keep up. “If you were an innocent dinner guest and came upon a strange man in the dark, would you have rolled down your window and chatted with him? I mean, it would have made more sense if she’d tried to run me over or drove back up to the house and called the police.”