“Yeah,” Celia said dryly. “I bet it’s real tough looking as good as he does, and having money too! How awful for him. My sympathies.”

Trisha ignored that. “Beneath that cool, distant exterior, there’s so much more. He’s intelligent, funny, sensitive. Passionate.”

“Oh, man,” Celia breathed, staring at her. “You’re gone. Really gone.”

“Yeah,” Trisha said miserably, dropping the lacy garment she was holding to cover her eyes. “I am. And it’s just awful.”

“Don’t worry. If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”

Trisha laughed weakly. “My hero.”

“Are you sure, Trish?” Celia asked suddenly, grabbing her hands, staring into her eyes. “Is he really the one?”

Another weak laugh came from her. “I’m sure he wouldn’t think so.”

“It’s what you think at this point that matters.”

“He’s the one,” she whispered.

“He’s very different from you, from what your hopes and dreams are,” Celia pointed out needlessly.

“My hopes and dreams were to be left alone to be as I wanted to be. But now… well, I’m still wanting to be as I am, but I don’t think I want to be alone. Does this make any sense?”

“I just don’t want to see you let down. Are you really, really sure?”

“I’m sure,” Trisha whispered. “I can tell he has feelings for me, deep ones he won’t give in to this easily. I’m not sure why, but he won’t.”

“Maybe he’s been hurt,” Celia suggested reluctantly. “Or maybe he just isn’t the type to let go easily. He does seem to be really disciplined.”

“Yes,” Trisha said, thinking of how he’d been able to walk away last night when she’d been a quivery mass of nerve endings. Then she thought of his deep eyes and their swirling secrets. She’d sensed his hurt. “But he isn’t cold. Far from it.”

A customer walked in then, and desperately needing to stop thinking, Trisha moved to offer assistance. “I just need to forget this madness,” she whispered over her shoulder to Celia. “It’s a dead end for me, no matter how much I want it.”

Her face tight with love and worry, Celia watched Trisha walk away. “Your entire life up until recently has been a dead end, honey. It’s time things went your way. For once. You deserve it. You can’t just forget about him.”

Then she sighed, knowing Trisha wouldn’t act on this advice herself. A smile touched her face. “But I can act on it for her,” she murmured.

Ten

She’d been perfect, the stuff dreams were made of. Jaw tight, temper questionable, Hunter strode down the long corridor of NASA, for the thousandth time dwelling on what had happened with Trisha a few days earlier.

He’d wanted her, badly. Still did. Any normal man would have gone back for her, he thought, disgusted with himself. But he wasn’t normal. Not by a long shot.

Cowardice.

That’s what held him back. What he wanted with Trisha couldn’t be easily relegated to the file in his brain labeled TENANT. Or even FRIEND. No, what he wanted was much more complicated than either of those. Nor could he wish her to the back of his thoughts, acting on the principle of out of sight, out of mind. She stayed front and center inside his head, where she could worm her way into his heart and soul.

He couldn’t have it. They were a poor match, and he hated poor matches. He liked order, daily planners, thinking ahead. Organization meant everything. Trisha liked chaos, going with the flow, and being impulsive. The word organization wasn’t in her vocabulary.

It wasn’t meant to be.

It’s not that he didn’t like her as a woman. Hunter sincerely liked women, but tended to go out only sporadically, choosing someone who wanted a pleasant diversion and nothing more.

Trisha was definitely more than a diversion. Tempting as she was, she also meant trouble, and he always avoided that.

He had to come up with a plan so that he didn’t have to see her, hear her, crave her. Only one way to do that, he thought dismally. He had to sell the house. She’d hate him for it, yet he could see no other way.

But God, he wanted her.

Walking through his office door, he picked up his phone messages, walked to the window, and stared down into the courtyard below.

Peace. Calm. Joy. His work gave him these. And since he was about to start working, he could relax. Then he looked down at his messages and tensed up again.

His mother had called. Her message read: Your father is at it again. If I don’t kill him by the time you get this, make sure you talk to him and tell him I won’t consider coming back until he straightens out.

He sighed and hoped it wasn’t too late to stop his mother from committing murder. Why, he wondered as he moved toward his phone, couldn’t his parents just simply stay away from each other?

It wasn’t just his parents that had him riled. It was everything. His neat little world suddenly seemed… not so neat.

Just the day before he’d come out of the house to find the trash can knocked over on his front lawn, Duff sitting daintily in the middle of the grass, snacking on leftovers. Trisha had rushed out of the house, obviously late as she struggled with several boxes, slipping on her heels as she ran.

With a small, apologetic smile, she’d shooed Duff away and had prepared to clean up the mess. He’d pulled her up, taken her boxes to the car, and cleaned up Duff’s mess himself.

He’d ended up with squashed banana on his black silk shirt, much to Trisha’s muffled amusement. With some desperate, ridiculous need to wipe that laughter from her face and replace it with half of the hunger he felt, he’d hauled her against him, backed her to his car, and kissed her until they broke apart, panting.

Right in plain sight of anyone passing, yet at the time he couldn’t have cared less if the entire neighborhood drove up to cheer him on.

The aftermath of that one violently tender kiss left him unable to emerge from behind his desk that entire day.

Then, just the night before, while trying to read through several trade journals, flecks of plaster had rained down on him. Above him, to the beat of the loud music, he could hear Trisha dancing and singing at the top of her lungs.

All he’d been able to do was wonder what she was wearing, and wish Eloise had installed a peephole of her own so that he could watch.

There’d been no more lipstick messages, but he had to deal with the indignity of finding his mulberry bushes trimmed into the shapes of bunnies, apparently courtesy of Trisha plying the new gardener with fresh chocolate-chip cookies.

With her joyous, carefree ways, she’d wormed her way right into his life, even as she drove him to the brink of insanity.

Restlessness forced Hunter to push himself hard, then when he could still think, he pushed harder. His staff, long used to his perfectionism and dedication, didn’t blink an eye at his increased hours. Nor did they dare comment.

Except his secretary. Entering his office, Heidi handed him the report he’d requested. Then stood there.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, putting the file down when it became apparent that she wasn’t leaving.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Hunter sat down and stared at her. “What?”

“I know this is none of my business,” she began. “But we’ve worked together a long time, and well…”

“Just tell me,” he said gently, thinking she was working herself up for another pregnancy leave.

“Okay.” Heidi fidgeted her fingers. “I’ll just tell you. I’ll just spit it out -”

“Heidi, please. Just say it.”

“Rumors are flying, Dr. Adams,” she said quickly, with sympathy in her gaze. “I wouldn’t have said anything at all, but you’re expected at the charity event tonight, as is everyone else you know, and well…”

“Well what?”

She made a face. “I’m sorry,” she said carefully. “But I feel I must warn you. Speculation is rampant, fueled by the fact that you were seen racing after some woman the other day in the NASA parking lot.”

Oh, perfect. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers and struggled to shrug off all the tension.

“Just the fact that the unflappable Dr. Adams was caught running was amazing enough, but the woman… when you so rarely are seen showing emotion to one… I’m sorry,” she said again, blushing. “But I wanted you to know.”

“I see.” What the hell was he supposed to say? That he had a new tenant, a wild, crazy, beautiful, sweet woman who was slowly driving him insane? That she somehow drew out the worst and best in him at the same time?

That he couldn’t stop thinking about her?

“It’s just that you never lose your cool,” Heidi said, breaking the silence. “You’re always so in control.”

Maybe, but he’d lost it, hadn’t he? “Thank you, Heidi,” he said calmly. “Tonight should be… interesting.”

“To say the least.”

Hunter realized exactly how much she’d risked to warn him. After all, they didn’t talk often. He typically wasn’t even in his office much, spending most of his time in the lab. But he appreciated what she’d done. “I guess I’m the main topic in the secretarial pool these days.”

“Yes, you beat out Dr. Jansen, who was caught in the buff under his desk with Dr. Phillips.” Now she grinned, more relaxed. “Don’t take it personally, Dr. Adams. The men are just jealous, and the women…”

He was sure he didn’t want to know the rest. “And the women…?”

“They just wished that they were on the receiving end of the Devil’s attention.”

Once Trisha came to the startling if not slightly terrifying realization about her feelings for Hunter, everything made more sense.

Or at least it did until she came home one evening at the end of the week and found a realtor scoping the place out.

“Excuse me,” she said to the small, weaselly-looking man in a red jacket holding a clipboard, pacing out the perimeter of the property.

He lifted his nose from his board. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

He was rather young. And given the way he eyeballed her, allowing his gaze to rove slowly over Celia’s latest creation – a deep green jersey mini-suit – she figured his interest in measurement extended to more than the property.

Long before he’d finished introducing himself as Sam Walters, real-estate agent, Trisha started to sweat. Her lungs labored, and her knees felt weak. It was a familiar panic attack, one that she hadn’t had since the last time she’d been forced to move, but she knew how to deal with it.

All she had to do was lock her knees and remember to breathe.

“I’m measuring the size of the lot,” Sam Walters said with a smile meant to charm. He moved closer. “You live here?”

“Why -” Her voice sounded so hoarse, she had to clear her throat and start over. “Why are you measuring the lot?” Breathe, she reminded herself as she felt the panic surge, double in force. Breathe.

“Trisha.”

She whirled at the sound of Hunter’s voice and dragged in a deep gasping breath. He stood there, having just gotten out of his car. She had been so intent on the way her heart was racing, on her feelings of betrayal, fear, worry, and a million other things, she hadn’t even heard him drive up.

Though they’d seen each other on and off during the week, they hadn’t really spoken since that night of the fire-alarm incident when he’d… Trisha swallowed hard, shoved away the heated memory, and faced the horror of the moment. By now she could feel the sweat pooled at the base of her spine, could feel herself start to hyperventilate. “You’ve decided… to put… the house on the market.” The last part of the sentence came out in one breathless rush.

Hunter frowned with concern and stepped closer.

The agent shifted on his feet, ears perked up. Probably hoping for a scene, Trisha thought with disgust, and promised herself she wouldn’t give him one. But breathing became more difficult at the shuttered truth in Hunter’s eyes.

“Please, answer me,” she said, struggling to take in more air.

“You’re so pale. Are you all right?”

She added fury to her present panic. Except for that kiss in the driveway, he’d avoided her after giving her the most erotic experience of her life. Now he was going to take away the only home she’d ever had, and he wanted to know if she was all right. “Are you… or are you not putting this place… up for sale?”

His frown deepened. “Trisha.”

The weasel Walters divided his attention between the two of them, moving his head back and forth as if watching a tennis match. Trisha wanted to smack him, but the loss of oxygen had spots swimming before her eyes. “Just tell me,” she said to Hunter as softly as she could – not difficult when her lungs had refused to work. “Is it true?”