And what do you know, bolting from the fold was just more of the same. Having that dream? More of the same.

But making love to a beautiful, warm woman in a soft bed that smelled of lemon in a house even he couldn’t doubt the security of?

Too close to normal. Too safe. Too good to be true.

The juxtaposition of that and where he’d been and where he was going in the morning had peeled him wide—which kind of proved what he’d always suspected: It was just too hard to dip even a foot into the civilian way of life. The straddle to be in both worlds was unsustainable.

And on that note . . .

Shifting around to the side table, he reached for the remote of the DVD and hit play. When the menu came up, he chose play all, and after a beat, the Three’s Company logo came on over the shot of a beach scene. As the intro credits ran, John Ritter ogled a chick and ended up falling off a bike—and as he hit the sand, Grier’s brows tightened . . . then relaxed completely.

Perfect. She’d trained herself to associate the TV with deep sleep, and the bubble of noise and soft flickering light was going to help cover his tracks.

About fifteen minutes into the episode, Isaac slowly slid his arm out from under her head and then he eased from between the sheets. In his absence, Grier rolled over to face the TV and resettled with a sigh. Which was his cue to get a move on.

Hitting the stairs, he went down to the room he’d been given.

Ten minutes later, he headed back to her, fully dressed, with his weapons. Standing over her, he watched her sleep for too long and had to force himself to bend down and pick up her hand. Moving her carefully, he put her thumb on the remote to the security system and deactivated it. After a green light flashed, he reengaged the alarm to see what kind of delay there was.

Which would be none: Immediately the red light glowed, and he was stuck inside.

Made sense. She’d just trigger it after she locked the front door.

He checked his watch. Four a.m.

Grier made a little snuffle and eased her head deeper into the pillow, her blond hair falling onto her cheek.

He didn’t trust himself to stay with her until she woke up.

Now or never, asshole.

Thank you, he mouthed to her.

And then with a curse, he disarmed the system and left without looking back.

Downstairs, he was silent and quick as he went and checked the ADT keypad in the front hall. Just as he’d hoped: disengaged. After all, when you had a rottweiler guarding your house, did you really need a yellow Lab as backup?