Ryan rested his hands on the counter, one on each side of her thighs. “I’m sorry. I was out of line yelling at you before. I’m not mad at you. I’m just frustrated with this whole thing. And now to have the press swarming… It infuriates me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Kate looked at him over the mound of tissues pressed to her face. “Did you mean it when you said this was all my fault?”

“No. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I have a temper.”

“Did you always?”

He pulled the tissues away and checked her nose. “No. I know you won’t believe this, but I was pretty even-keeled when we were married. I’m definitely not the same person I used to be.”

Her fingertips grazed his hand when he reached up with a washcloth to wipe the blood from her lip. “Neither am I, Ryan.”

His hand stilled, and his eyes locked on hers, eyes that seemed to be seeing a part of her no one else could touch. She felt herself being sucked back under, felt her heart thump rapidly, felt her skin tingle with that crazy need to be touched only by him.

This close, she could easily see why women were drawn to him. On the outside, he was hard and rough, seemingly untouchable. But underneath there was something soft and gentle struggling to break free. More than one woman had probably tried to crack through the icy exterior to free the passionate man underneath. Was it possible?

When he touched her, when she remembered how his mouth had claimed hers and his hands had stroked her body in almost frantic motions, she was almost sure it was possible. But when his eyes changed and he looked at her with that steely gaze he was so famous for, she wasn’t so convinced anymore. If there was softness in Ryan Harrison, it was hidden deep within. And she wasn’t sure anyone—especially her—would ever be able to reach it.

She broke the connection she knew he felt too, looked away.

He swiped the washcloth over her skin one last time. “I think you’re all better now.”

She started to move away from him, but he caught her chin and tipped her face up to his, stopping her. “I’m sorry about what I said but not about what happened after. I’ve been dying to touch you for the past two weeks. This wasn’t the best time or place, and that I regret, but not the rest of it.”

Determination lurked in his eyes. And behind that, a glint of gentleness, the softness she knew was there.

“Next time,” he said, “we won’t be interrupted.”

“Would that be a foregone conclusion?”

A smirk tugged at his mouth. A really sexy, mesmerizing smirk. God, he was handsome. Too handsome. She was toast if he ever turned the full force of that smile on her. “Absolutely.”

She eased off the counter. She had to find control. She wasn’t going to let him manipulate her. “I’m not one of your brainless bimbos, Ryan. Contrary to what happened here earlier, that’s not my style.”

He pulled her close before she could turn away. The fluidity of the movement took her by surprise, and she found her body molded tightly to his, knee to chest, every line and muscle and plane of his body flush against hers. She pressed her hands against his biceps, but it was his lips grazing her temple that stilled her and kept her from pushing back. “I’m not interested in brainless bimbos.”

The moment was so tender, and so unlike him, she wasn’t sure how to respond. She hesitated, tried to resist the pull. Lost when her heart contracted.

He didn’t try to kiss her, didn’t make any advances, just held her tight and rubbed his hand down her back like he needed this. Needed the contact, the connection. Needed her.

And, oh, man. That gentle caress did more than his mouth had done earlier in the bedroom.

Her eyes slid shut even as she fought back the desire rebuilding inside. Her skin tingled under his breath. Heat pooled in her belly. Want and need pulsed through her veins until she wasn’t sure which was which.

“You want to tell me about this little expedition you’re going on with Simone tonight?” he said into her hair.

“Who told you?”

“Mitch.”

She pursed her lips as she eased out of his arms, thankful he’d changed the subject and she’d gotten away before she’d done something stupid. Like pushed him to the ground and jumped his bones. “Figures.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Ryan, we haven’t exactly been on the best speaking terms.”

“Well, we are now. Is this really important to you?”

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

“Yeah, of course I do. But not if it’s just going to add more complications we don’t need.”

She sighed. “I have to know. I lost five years of a life I didn’t know I had. Someone somewhere knows something.”

“Okay,” he said after several seconds. “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you holding my hand.”

Irritation flashed in his eyes. “This changed my life too. I’m going with you.”

He wasn’t going to take over. She wouldn’t let him. But if he wanted to tag along, she wouldn’t stop him at this point. And he was right. He deserved answers as much as she did. She nodded. “Okay.”

Relief rippled over his features. Relief that surprised her. Had he thought she wouldn’t agree? From one minute to the next, she didn’t know how he was going to react. “Now that we have that out of the way, why don’t we go meet your parents?”

She glanced to the door. Winced when she realized what awaited her. The press was one thing. Her parents? She pressed a hand against her stomach as it rolled and tossed on a sea of worry. “Right now, I think I’d really rather slit my wrists.”

He reached for her hand, brought her wrist to his mouth and kissed her gently, right over her vein. “And scar these perfect wrists? Never.”

That wicked kiss brought every nerve ending to life in her body, all over again. And  that connection she’d felt before with him flared hot and bright.

“C’mon.”

When he tugged on her hand, she faltered. “I…I thought you didn’t want to be involved in this?”

“When did I say that?”

“Yesterday, at Mitch’s house.”

“I think a lot’s happened between yesterday and today, wouldn’t you agree?”

Emotions flickered in his eyes. Emotions, she wasn’t sure she was ready for. He confused her. He frustrated her. He infuriated her. And then, in an instant, he dazzled her.

He was a complex puzzle that seemed to have no possible solution, and just when she thought she had him all figured out, he’d go and turn himself into something she totally didn’t expect. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to keep up with him.

It scared her. It aggravated her.

And dammit, it electrified her.

With no other choice, she followed him out into the living room and stood face-to-face with her parents.

* * *

“This is the dumbest idea ever.” Mitch rested his hands on the steering wheel of his Land Rover and surveyed the dimly lit parking lot.

Ryan looked up from the backseat. Early evening had settled over San Mateo. Street lights flickered and popped on. With any luck, Annie was already on the other side of the building by now.

Mitch was right. It was a dumb idea. They should have stayed with Annie’s parents and had dinner with the kids. As awkward as it was for Annie, it was safer than what they were doing now.

“All you have to do is drive the get-away car,” Simone said from the passenger seat. “Stop complaining.” She popped her door. Ryan followed from the backseat. “We’ll be back.”

“Next time, I get to be the spy,” Mitch called to their backs.

“How long do we have?” Ryan asked as they headed for the front doors of the nursing home. A security guard sat just inside. Video cameras monitored the parking lot.

“Visiting hours are over in thirty minutes. They’ll boot me out by then. Do you have the ID card Alice swiped this morning?”

He patted his pocked. “Got it.”

“I don’t want to bail anyone out of jail tonight,” she said under her breath.

He shot her a look. “You don’t think I’m stupid enough to get caught, do you?”

“I sure the hell hope not, Harrison.”

Simone plastered on her lawyer smile as they entered the lobby and approached the front desk. “We’re here to see Gillian Rogers. I’m a friend of the family.”

A large woman with gray hair was seated behind the reception desk. “Sign in. You’ve got about twenty-five minutes before visiting hours are up.”

Simone signed the log, handed Ryan the pen, and waited.

The receptionist slanted a disapproving glance over them. “I’ll need to see ID.” She checked her computer and waited while Ryan and Kate fished out their wallets. “Mrs. Rogers is in D wing, room 438.” She tapped a pencil against a photocopied map. “Here. Take that hallway, there.” She pointed toward a set of double doors.

“Thank you,” Simone said.

“Friendly,” Ryan muttered as they pushed the doors open.

When they were alone in the hallway, she glanced at her watch. “Don’t be late.”

“Got it. Have fun.”

“Yeah. Fun.” Simone frowned. “Gillian has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t remember me. This’ll be a hoot.”

Ryan winked, then ducked into a janitor’s closet.

Institutional cleaners assailed his nostrils. He flipped on the pocket flashlight he’d brought with him and scanned the small room. Like Gillian’s daughter Alice had told Simone, a janitor’s uniform hung on a hook against the wall. He slipped it on, clipped the ID badge with his picture taped over the top to his shirt pocket, and wheeled the cart out into the hallway.

He made his way through the building at a slow pace, whistling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A nurse passed, stopped, and glanced back. “You’re new. Where’s Jimmy?”

He swiveled and flashed a smile. “Sick. I’m fillin’ in.”

“There’s a spill in 218 that needs to be cleaned up.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get right on it.”

“I need you on it now. Come on.” She waggled a finger at him.

Shit. He didn’t have time for this right now. But it was either follow or raise suspicion, something they definitely didn’t need.

He whipped the cart around. 218? Where the hell was that? Ryan glanced down at the building map he’d laid out below bottles on the top of the cart. Dammit. Opposite side of the building from the records room.

The nurse pushed open a door. “Mr. Anders?”

A muffled grunt was the only response.

Ryan left the cart in the hallway. His nose puckered when he stepped into the room. Mother of God, he had not signed on for this. The old man’s bladder had all but exploded right on the floor.

“We’ll get this cleaned right up for you, Mr. Anders,” the nurse said. She nodded at Ryan to get moving.

Colorful language bubbled through his head, but he made his way back to the janitor’s cart and grabbed supplies he hoped would work. Twenty minutes later, he was once again pushing the cart through the long hallways. His skin itched, and he felt the need for a shower to wash off the stench of that room. And he definitely didn’t want to get old.

A woman was keying information into a computer when he made his way to the business offices. He lifted his ID badge. “I’m here to empty the waste baskets.”

She barely glanced at him. “Fine. Don’t be long. I need to lock up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He went around the room, performing the menial task. When he finished in the outer office, he moved to the record room.

The spring-loaded door snapped closed behind him. He quickened his pace to the window and popped it open.

Annie stood from her spot below the window where she’d been hiding. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Old man’s bladder exploded on the other side of the building,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I’ll explain later. We don’t have long.” He helped her through the window. “There’s a secretary out front itching to get home.”

She went straight to the file cabinet, jerked the top drawer open and pawed through records. “There’s no Alexander.”

“Check Harrison.”

She closed the top drawer and dropped to the next one.

Ryan emptied the trash. The metal blinds clinked as he ran a broom over them to disguise the sound of the file cabinet squeaking open and closed.

“Nothing,” she whispered.

He looked back. “Mathews?”

“Here it is,” she whispered. “So much for the records being destroyed in a fire.” She pulled the file out, flipped it open, scanned each page.