She couldn’t help herself. “Do you always try to rape intruders?”

“Rape?” He snorted. “Is that what you thought?”

“Pardon me if I’m wrong, but when a man tackles me, then has his hands all over my body…well, rape does come to mind.”

“I don’t usually find naked women prowling around in the dark in my house.”

“I wasn’t naked. I had on my jammies.”

“Jammies? Well, call me a dog, but my idea of jammies and yours are worlds apart. You were nearly nude.”

“Stop it! I’m tired of people blaming me-” The astonished look on his face stopped her short. She knew she hadn’t meant “people.” Ryan had been the one she had in mind. He’d always managed to find a way to make anything that went wrong seem like her fault. She expelled an exasperated breath. “Okay, it was a Victoria’s Secret nightgown.”

They stared at each other for a moment like gunslingers waiting to draw. Whitney reminded herself that she needed a place to live until Miranda returned. The man might have made an honest mistake. Smile. Show that you can forgive and forget.

At Whitney’s attempt at a smile, he said, “The house was robbed right after my uncle died. I thought you were a burglar.”

“Did they get much?” Whitney had been in the house several times before Miranda left and hadn’t noticed any signs of a robbery.

“They cut the burglar alarm wires and took my uncle’s computer but left a lot of valuable antiques. When I heard you downstairs, I assumed they’d returned.”

“I understand,” she said, trying to convince herself that she did. Remember, he’s not Ryan. Adam did help you this morning.

“I didn’t mean to paw you. I was…trying to confirm you were a woman. Most robbers are men.”

She nodded slowly, not mentioning the erection evident during “his pawing to confirm” maneuvers.

“Anyway, you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself,” he told her with the suggestion of a smile.

“I am?”

He cocked his head to one side and pointed to the livid red scratch at the base of his neck. It had been hidden by the collar of his shirt. He then showed her the large bandage on his forearm. “You bit me and drew blood.”

She stared at the flesh-colored bandage, clearly remembering the metallic taste of blood. The edges around the bandage were purplish-blue. Evidently a deep bruise surrounded the bite. “You had me outweighed. All I could do was bite.”

“And scream,” he added with an attempt at a chuckle. “I’m sure the devil heard you all the way down in hell.”

She wasn’t about to apologize for defending herself, but the adorable way he had of tilting his head slightly while he was talking muted her anger. The whole incident had been a mistake. Not taking it too seriously or making more out of it than necessary seemed to be the best course.

Whitney looked up into his blue eyes-about to say something-then forgot what it was. An electrical current arced between them, and her breathing became uneven. She had the disturbing feeling that Adam was about to kiss her. For a moment, she was almost dizzy with anticipation.

“When my uncle had the fatal heart attack, a woman called 911. Was that you?”

Her brain scrambled to get a grip on the question. All she could think about was what it would be like to be held in his powerful arms. “Me? No. I wasn’t living here. My cousin, Miranda Marshall, had this cottage until two days ago.”

“Did she mention calling the paramedics?”

Whitney shook her head, still trying to keep her emotions from showing. “No. Miranda told me about it, but she wasn’t home. She stayed with her boyfriend at night. They’re off in Fiji now on a honeymoon.”

He reached out and lightly touched her cheek with one finger. Their eyes held and she forced herself to remain steady even though a swarm of butterflies was fluttering through her tummy.

“Sorry about last night. Friends?”

She mustered the strength to nod, but it was difficult. Heat seemed to suffuse her entire body.

He left without another word. For a long moment she stood there, then remembered to lock the door.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TYLER GUIDED HOLLY out of Croce’s. Even though it was half past two and the club had announced the last call over thirty minutes ago, people were still hanging around. The club was dedicated to the memory of the creator of “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown,” Jim Croce. It was located in one of the renovated Victorian-style commercial buildings in the historic Gaslamp Quarter. There were hundreds of clubs, restaurants and galleries in the area. Croce’s had been among the first to open in the seventies when the city began pumping life back into the decaying area. It was still one of the most popular clubs.

“Adam came into the office today,” Tyler said as they walked back to his condo along streets lit by authentic gas lamps.

“Really?” Holly responded, in a tone he couldn’t quite read. “How is he?”

Someone who didn’t know Holly might not realize she had been crazy about Adam Hunter. Tyler had always assumed he was Adam’s best friend, but Adam hadn’t confided his reason for splitting with Holly.

Tyler had waited two agonizingly long months after Adam had left for Iraq before asking Holly out. He’d taken it slow and easy, giving her plenty of space to get over Adam. Tyler’s strategy had worked. Holly was practically living with him now. She kept a small walk-up on Coronado Island near her boutique, but she spent most nights at the condo Tyler had purchased in the Marina District that bordered the Gaslamp Quarter.

“Adam seems okay physically, but he’s…different.”

“Different?”

Now Holly sounded interested. He glanced at her, but the wavering shadows from the gas lamps and her long brown hair concealed her face. Maybe it was just his imagination. Anyone would be concerned about a friend who’d nearly been killed.

“Adam’s quieter. Doesn’t joke anymore.” Tyler thought about the way Adam had behaved during lunch. “He’s pretty intense.”

“Are you going to be able to work with him?” she asked.

Now her concern seemed to be for him, and Tyler kept his smile to himself. “Good question. Adam’s still hot to go into corporate security.”

Holly didn’t comment. They walked in silence to the end of the block, where the historical area merged with the Marina District. Here eye-catching skyscrapers and luxurious condos captured the view of the bay. The area had a number of hotels, but it was also the trendy place to live downtown.

Tyler had sunk all the money he’d made from HiTech Security into his new place. After years on the police force, when he’d been barely able to make his monthly rent payment, it felt awesome to have a brand-new home overlooking the harbor. He’d let Holly decorate it, and she’d done an amazing job.

It was sleek and modern, furnished in stainless steel and beige leather several shades darker than the walls. It was masculine yet had enough touches of softness for a woman to be comfortable. After all, he planned to live here once he and Holly were married. Later, when they had children, he supposed they would buy a home in the suburbs. Their kids would need space to play. By then HiTech would be going great guns-even more stable and successful than it already was-and he would be able to afford anyplace Holly wanted.

“Did you explain to Adam that it’s too expensive to go into corporate security?” Holly asked.

“Yeah. We talked about it.” Their discussion over lunch had been strained. Tyler wasn’t sure if it was the direction the company had taken or Adam himself that had made their conversation tense. “Adam’s going to check into it and see exactly what it’ll take.”

“Then he’ll realize, the way you did, that HiTech will be more profitable providing guard services.”

“Probably,” Tyler said, although he didn’t necessarily agree. “Adam’s pretty hung up about his uncle’s death.”