She hadn’t realized she could be hungry, but the bowl was empty almost before she realized it. With a little sigh, she pushed it away. He was tipped back in his chair, smoking in silence.

“Thank you.”

“Okay.” Her eyes were swollen, accentuating the vulnerability that always haunted them. It tugged at him, making him uneasy. Her skin, with its ripe, warm honey glow was pale, making her seem delicate and defenseless. She was a woman, he realized, that a man had to keep an emotional distance from. Get too close and you’d be sucked right in. It wouldn’t do to care about her too much when he needed to use her to help both of them. From this point on, he’d have to hold the controls.

“I suppose I was more upset than I realized.”

“You’re entitled.”

She nodded, grateful he was making it easy for her to skim over what she considered an embarrassing display of weakness. “There’s no reason for you to stay here.”

“I’ll stay anyway.”

She curled her hand into a fist, then uncurled it slowly. It wasn’t possible for her to admit she wanted him to, or that for the first time in years she was frightened of being alone. Since she had to cave in, it was better to think of the arrangement on a practical level.

“All right, the room’s twenty a week, first week in advance.”

He grinned as he reached for his wallet. “All business?”

“I can’t afford anything else.” After putting the twenty on the counter, she stacked the bowls. “You’ll have to see to your own food. The twenty doesn’t include meals.”

He watched her take the bowls to the sink and wash them. “I’ll manage.”

“I’ll give you a key in the morning.” She took a towel and meticulously dried the bowls. “Do you think he’ll be back?” She tried to make her voice casual, and failed.

“I don’t know.” He crossed to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. “You won’t be alone if he does.”

When she looked at him, her eyes were steady again. Something inside him unknotted. “Are you protecting me, Jonas, or just looking for your revenge?”

“I do one, maybe I’ll get the other.” He twined the ends of her hair around his finger, watching the dark gold spread over his skin. “You said yourself I’m not a nice man.”

“What are you?” she whispered.

“Just a man.” When his gaze lifted to hers, she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t just a man, but a man with patience, with power and with violence. “I’ve wondered the same about you. You’ve got secrets, Elizabeth.”

She was breathless. In defense, she lifted her hand to his. “They’ve got nothing to do with you.”

“Maybe they don’t. Maybe you do.”