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“Why do you think Steven would be waiting for you?” he
asked.

Oh. Hello, reality.
Focus had not been her strong
suit today, at least not recently, not since she’d seen her ex waiting for her
and Kim offered to help. Offered? Insisted, more like it. She should be
pissed—she could take care of herself, thank you—but it was such a relief,
being able to tell someone. Being able to tell Kim.

She’d think about that feeling of relief later. Meantime,
his question helped her focus enough to keep her hands to herself.

“The ring,” she said, her gaze drifting to the windows. The
sky outside had grown dark enough that it was easier to see ghostly reflections
of herself, and Kim behind her, than distinct shapes beyond the glass. “It’s
not an heirloom. He wants it for money.”

“Have you told the police you suspect him in the break-in?”

She shook her head. “I can’t prove anything. Even I can’t
believe he would do that to my house.” She put her empty plate down. Kim’s
dishes were square and black. Very chic. “Steven was always looking for an
angle, a way to get money without working for it. But this?” She shook her head
again.

“It had to have been in your house at least two months,
right?”

Isabelle nodded.

“So why now?”

It was a really good question. Why had he bothered hiding
it? And why come after it after all this time? “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe
he only now needs the money.” It sounded lame.

“Could it be stolen?”

“Stolen?” It would explain so much. She swallowed hard,
feeling ill.

When Isabelle suddenly paled, Kim steered her to the
loveseat at the foot of his bed. She sank as if in shock. Clearly, he’d
triggered something, and she was putting the pieces together.

“He’s been calling me every day,” she said, “saying he
needed the money. Last time he called, he actually scared me. But I didn’t have
the ring then. I’d flushed it down the toilet.”

Kim sat beside her. “He’s been threatening you? Why didn’t
you tell me?” His jaw tightened. His hands were clenching, his body readying
for a fight. If Steven were here, size wouldn’t matter.

“What would that have changed?” she asked.

He scowled at her. “A man is threatening you, Isabelle.”

Her stare could have withered plums in to prunes. “I’m aware
of that.” Stubborn woman. Was she pissed, or was she just scared?

“You didn’t think it would matter to me?”

“I’m sorry, did we have a contract?” Sounded like pissed.

It stung. It shouldn’t, given the way they’d sparred. But
damn it, he’d been there with her when she’d discovered the damage to her
house. They’d made love for hours. He bristled. “It was implied. You had me go
fishing for the damn ring in your sewer.”

She was clearly unimpressed. “And where, exactly, is it?”
Her diction was so sharp, he could have cut himself on it.

“I gave it to y—I mean, it’s—”

His anger ran out of steam as he tried to remember what had
happened after he’d found the ring. He’d rinsed it off and sealed it in a small
plastic bag so she could take it somewhere to have it properly cleaned. After
that, the details consuming his available memory had nothing to do with a ring
and everything to do with a steamy bathroom and bare skin and the way she’d
made him feel.

He scrubbed his hands through already-dried hair and tried
to focus. “Coveralls,” he said. “It’s in the pocket of my coveralls.” He was
still trying to remember where, exactly, his coveralls might be, when he heard
a welcome if entirely unexpected sound.

Isabelle was laughing.

She didn’t appear to be hysterical. If anything, the
crinkling at the corner of her eyes had a most appealing warmth, even if it
confused him.

“It’s my fault then,” she said. “I sent it for a spin.” She
continued laughing, her hand on his leg. “I put your coveralls in my washer
this morning.”

It would probably seem less funny once she saw how easily
that big stone and its setting likely had cut through the bag and scratched up
her washer, but for now, Kim was glad to laugh with her. Glad she was willing
to touch him, a kind of proof her anger was just part of a broadly passionate
nature.

It worried him, though. If Steven were involved with stolen
goods, he could be more dangerous than either of them had thought. Guessing
just how dangerous meant knowing what the ring was worth.

“I need to have it appraised,” Isabelle said, sobering as if
she’d read Kim’s thoughts. She looked out the blinds at the fully dark sky.
Lightning flashed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to wait until morning.
It’s after five, and the weather stinks.”

No, she didn’t have to wait. Kim could call Kerry. Kerry,
owner of Glassner’s Fine Jewelry, could appraise the ring. Wassily Glassner’s
son would be
only
too glad to help.

Which was why Kim wouldn’t call.

“Stay here tonight, Isabelle.”

“I couldn’t possibly.”

“The weather stinks.”

“And Steven?” she asked darkly.

“Yes. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re safe. What’s wrong
with that?” Even if Steven weren’t involved in anything illegal, his
threatening Isabelle was more than Kim was willing to overlook. There was going
to be a reckoning. But not tonight.

“Yesterday, I said I only wanted to sleep with you,” she
said.

He waited for her to continue, but she seemed to think it
was an explanation. She stood up and smoothed the front of her slacks as if she
were going to leave.

“Okay?” he prompted, uncertain what she was getting at.

Her face fell. “I can’t do that again—wonderful as it was.
It’s just not who I am. I’m sorry.” She looked exactly like Kerry had when Kim
had dropped out of college, foiling his plans. Saddened. Disappointed. And
somehow not at all surprised. She picked up her hat.

If she was saying sex alone wouldn’t satisfy her, this
wasn’t over. After all, he wanted more from her too. And if he ever got past
the frustrating swinging door of her heart, they could talk about it.

If she left, he’d miss what might be his last best shot.
He’d have to let her go. Have to be the relationship-impaired loser Damon had
accused him of being and Kerry had proven him year after year with his solo
birthday invitations.

It was time for more than guts.

“My brother can help,” he said, though he had to grind the
words out.

“What?”

“He’s a jeweler. Glassner’s Fine Jewelry. He can appraise
the ring.”

“Your brother can appraise the ring?” Her expression was
softening as hope trickled in. Kim felt hope of his own.

“I’ll call him. I’ll sleep on the couch, Isabelle. Please
don’t go.”

“You’re begging,” she said, a hint of the lioness returning
to her voice. “Not what I would expect from the man who bested the toilet of
doom.”

“Desperate times. This is my peace of mind on the line. I’ll
do anything I have to do.”

“You’ve already done so much. I feel I’m taking advantage.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean
it.”

“Including the couch?”

It wasn’t as big a deal as asking Kerry for help, but he
wasn’t going to tell her that. “I’ll sleep in the bathroom if you say so.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” she said, nearly smiling.

He offered her his hand. “Desperate times.”

Isabelle took his hand and again sat down next to him on the
loveseat, her eyes lit with anticipation and hope. Kim wanted to deliver for
her on both counts so badly it drew his shoulders together, made him sit
straighter than he had since he was a too-proud child. But there was a big gap
between wanting and doing and an ugly monster lived there, a monster with his
brother’s face. To help Isabelle, he had to face it. He couldn’t simply refer
her to Kerry. He would not be voiceless.

And yet, he couldn’t quite make himself reach for the phone.

“What’s your brother’s name? Glass?”

“Glassner,” Kim said. “Kerry Glassner, son of Wassily the
Great. Arrogant, controlling son of a bitch—but good at what he does.”

She frowned. “He’s the one you told me about the other
night. The one with all the answers.”

“The same.”

“Oh, Kim.” He hoped her sympathetic tone wouldn’t become yet
another offer to leave, this time to spare him having to come through for her.

With a deliberate breath, her expression became more
thoughtful than concerned “Kerry and Kim,” she mused.

“My mother has an interesting sense of humor.”

“Any sisters?”

“You mean Keith and Karl?”

She snorted, which helped him relax.

“Kerry and I could never decide whether Mom wanted daughters
or whether she loved Johnny Cash tunes and wanted us to grow up tough like the
boy named Sue.” That almost made it sound as if he and Kerry were close.
Ironic.

“You appear to be able to take care of yourself.” She was
paying him another compliment. Funny that it made her seem so shy. Funny that
he suddenly needed all the compliments he could get.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he said.

She smiled, but the sadness in her eyes made him sorry he’d
said it. “Truer words were never spoken.”

He ached to kiss her. He’d just promised not to sleep with
her, though, so it probably wasn’t the best timing. “Isabelle.” He touched her
lips with his fingertips and hung over the abyss, heart pounding, collecting
his bearings in an attempt to protect himself if he fell. He needed to tell her
how she made him feel, how beautiful she was, how he seemed to think about her
nonstop. But he still had a few things to prove to her. To keep a woman like
Isabelle Caine, he needed more than compliments. He needed to keep his
promises.

He leaned away before he could give in to the need to kiss
her, unclipped and began dialing his phone before he could start doubting his
move.

“Perhaps I could use your restroom while you call?” Isabelle
asked.

“You passed it coming in,” he said, gesturing. “Glass door.”
The phone was already ringing.

She nodded and left him there.

“Hey bro,” he said when Kerry picked up the line, “what’s
happening?”

“Who is this?” Kerry said.

“Good one, Kerry.”

“Kim?”

“And another. You’re in rare form.”

“It is Kim. Damn, are you okay?” Kerry sounded genuinely
concerned, which pissed Kim off. As if he’d only phone in an emergency.

Of course, that more or less described the situation.

“No broken limbs or financial disasters. I’m fine.” He
closed his eyes and forced the words to keep coming. “But I do need your help.
Professionally.”

At Kerry’s go-ahead, he described the ring as best he could
remember and enough of the circumstances to impress upon Kerry that the need
was urgent and that the police may well be interested in his findings.

“It’s at your client’s house?”

“Yes. South Dallas.” He realized Isabelle was still in the
bathroom. Nice of her to offer him privacy for this call.

“I can’t come out tonight,” Kerry said. “It’s Operation
Science Fair tonight with Last-Minute Ted. I’ll come by your place in the
morning. You can show me the way and introduce me.”

“Sure,” Kim said as lightning flashed outside. “We’re not
going anywhere tonight anyway.”

“We?”

“She’s staying here tonight in case there’s trouble at her
house.”

In the four beats of silence that followed, Kim had plenty
of time to kick himself for those words. Kerry knew how small his place was and
that any woman staying here would be sharing Kim’s bed. The only question was,
would Kerry’s reproach be for sleeping with a client? Or would it be
disappointment over Kim having had so many girlfriends? Either way, Isabelle
deserved better. “We’re not dating,” he said. Not yet, anyway.

Damn, the things that happened in his gut at those words.
Cramping, lonely things. No doubt Kerry thought he was lying. Kim wished he
were. And yet, to try to explain would put him at Kerry’s mercy. There was a
line between asking for help and surrendering, and he’d blown it every time
he’d tried to walk that line. Only so many times a man could fall before he had
to move on. Could he fall one more time before Austin?

For Isabelle, he could.

But before Kim managed to pull together words, his brother
said, “I’ll be there between nine and ten.” It sounded final. Kim wasn’t about
to argue.

“Ann is right here,” Kerry said. “She wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Kerry.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed his
scalp with his free hand. There was background noise as the phone changed hands
at the Glassner household. Television, probably, and the noise of four active
children. He smiled to hear Ted yell, “Kimanchee? Lemme talk to him,” but when
a voice came on the line, it was Kerry’s wife, Ann.

“It’s so good to hear from you, Kim. The kids are dying to
see you. There are some great bike trails out here at the new place and they
want to show Uncle Kim every last one.” In the background, Ted let out a war
whoop. “Kerry says he talked to you about your birthday?” Ann asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Kim said, unwilling to commit, even to Ann.
Damon had hinted the gang was learning to climb, and the idea of seeing his
niece and nephews take a rock face teased his imagination even as he remembered
to be irritated that Kerry was doing it behind his back. He’d see how tomorrow
went. If he and Kerry didn’t come to blows, he’d consider it more seriously.
Meantime, he’d pretend he didn’t know the secret. “It would be fun to bike with
the kids again.”

Lightning flashed outside, close enough to shake the building.
The electricity went out.

He clutched the phone and skidded across the floor to the
now-dark kitchen in a sudden shift of priorities. “You okay, Isabelle?” he
asked through the bathroom door.

“I’m not afraid of the dark,” she said, and Kim smiled at
her offended tone. She added, “Of course, it’s very dark.”

It would be. No window in his bathroom. “Stay put,” he said.

“No hurry” she assured him. “My eyes are already adjusting.”

He turned back to the phone. “Ann? We just lost power. I
gotta go. Say hey to the pride for me.” She loved him and they said goodbye as
he felt his way through the closet shelf for the gym bag that held his
flashlight.

The bag and the light were still at Wall Werx where Damon
had dumped them for him after their return from their last Austin climb, Monday
night. He skidded back to the bathroom door. “I’ve got candles for just such an
occasion,” he promised. “Thing is, they’re in there with you. Are you decent?”

“Yes. I had just been catching up on the best climbing spots
in America. Did you see the write-up on Shawangunks, New York? Fascinating.”

Kim laughed. His bathroom reading selection was just that.
Selective. “Coming in, then,” he said. She must be giving him room, as he
didn’t run into her, but he couldn’t miss knowing she was there. The room felt
full. Energized. A faint scent of wild grass hung in the air. He groped along
the bathroom vanity and found the jar candle he kept there and had it lit in
short order. First thing he saw, of course, was a horror show reflection of
himself in the mirror. Isabelle was just off his left shoulder.

“Less dark, now,” she said. She set the climbing magazine
down on the vanity top and if her smile seemed a little forced, he was willing
to chalk it up to the unexpectedness of the power outage.

Damn, she was beautiful by candlelight.

Focus.

Kim held the candle while he searched the cabinet beneath
the sink, finding a couple of unopened packs of pillars he’d stashed and
forgotten about.

“Excellent,” she said. “I love a man who’s prepared.”

She followed him out of the bathroom and suggested he group
the candles on dinner plates and place them throughout the loft while he felt
ridiculously happy to be prepared.

All too soon, they were out of obvious things to do, leaving
Kim increasingly preoccupied with the way the golden candlelight played over
Isabelle’s creamy skin. He’d called Kerry. He should be able to kiss her. But
that wasn’t what this was about. He’d never be entitled to a kiss. And he knew
for sure if he did kiss her, he wouldn’t be able to stop there. Not after last
night.

“Cable’s out,” he said, nodding at the dark TV screen.

“Yeah.”

“What would you like to do?”

Isabelle’s gaze swept over his bed, which looked
particularly inviting as the flickering light gave its overlay an underwater
sparkle. Then she looked toward the louvered blinds. Lighting flashed more
frequently as rain beat against the windows, a blue counterpoint to the yellow
warmth of the candles. What a night it would be, making love with Isabelle
Caine while a storm lashed the city.

“It’s great sleeping weather,” she said.

Of course.

“Yes, it is,” he said, summoning enthusiasm. “Let me get you
something to wear.” He pulled open his t-shirt drawer. First up was a weathered
UT shirt. It was orange. It had been washed to chamois softness. It was
perfect. He pulled it out. “Would you prefer boxers or sweatpants?”

“The shirt is fine, thank you.” Their knuckles bumped as she
took the shirt from him, which seemed to fluster her, though she didn’t back
away. “Did you go to Austin?”

For a fraction of a second he thought she’d meant today. He
realized she meant, had he attended UT. She knew nothing of his trip, nothing
of his plans. As soon as this ordeal with her ex was over, he’d fill her in.

“No. I just like orange.”

She laughed as if she didn’t want to, as if she’d swallowed
part of it. Their knuckles were still touching. She still hadn’t turned away.
“Thank you,” she said again. He kissed her, a victim of beauty and candlelight
and a dangerous need to reassure either her or himself, Kim wasn’t sure which.
Seeing her disoriented tonight. Seeing her afraid. He didn’t like it. This
fierce lady shouldn’t have to be afraid of anything—certainly not of her own
house and a man she’d once loved. So he kissed her, a silent murmuring against
her soft lips to say things he didn’t yet have words for. A promise that she’d
be okay, that she didn’t have to be afraid, that he wouldn’t cheat on her, that
she could love again.

His eyes snapped open. He pulled back. “Sorry!”

She gave a half-smile that could have meant anything, nodded
and went into the candlelit bathroom.

She could love again? How did he get from wanting an “atta
boy” for calling Kerry to thinking Isabelle Caine could ever love him?

How did he get to wishing she would?

Outside the storm flashed. Inside the candles danced. And
within Kim something more dangerous than hope flickered and spat into greedy,
unsteady life. Something confusing and frightening and so important, it
clutched his throat. Something riskier than the first attempt at red pointing a
new crag. Something exhilarating. Uncharted.

Something private. Deeply needy. Wonderful.

Love.

In the bathroom, Isabelle pulled on the t-shirt with shaking
hands.

What would she like to do? What a question. What a kiss. She
knew what she wanted. She wanted to follow Stacey’s advice. She wanted to
get
over it
, open her heart, and believe Kim might be as wonderful as he
seemed.

Why was it so hard?

Kim hadn’t made promises. She wouldn’t expect him to—unless
they were dating. Which they shouldn’t. For pity’s sake, she’d slept with the
man once and was trembling for more. What would she be like after actually
dating him?

For sure, she shouldn’t stay here at his place where she
risked being seduced by the candlelight and escalating favors he readily
offered. Sleeping on the couch in his own home. Asking his brother for help.

He climbed walls with his bare hands and used a video camera
to search a sewer pipe. He didn’t get along with his own family. How could she
understand a man like that?

She splashed water on her face and emerged from the bathroom
every bit as confused as she had been going in.

Kim had left the louvered blinds open. Between the candles,
the lightning and light from nearby high-rise buildings that hadn’t been
affected by the power outage, there was plenty of light to see Kim had changed
into dark, loose pants and a white muscle shirt. He gave her a hanger so her
suit might be wearable in the morning and didn’t stare at the way his t-shirt
caught on her hips, both of which she appreciated. The shirt was smaller than
she’d expected, but then, the last man’s t-shirt she’d worn had been Steven’s.

It covered her. It was soft. It was Kim’s. It would do just
fine.

Kim had thrown a sheet over the loveseat and he held a
chenille afghan in his hand. For all she loved he was making the gesture, there
was no way he could be comfortable there.

“You’re too tall,” she said. “Let me have the sofa.”

He shook his head. “I’ve slept in smaller tents.”

“This is your home.”

“You are my guest.”

And with that, she had to let it go. She respected the role
of host too completely to do otherwise. She climbed into the big bed while Kim
moved from dish to dish, blowing out the candles. She wondered what sort of
wish he might make, or whether his family even did that sort of thing.