“There was a time I might have believed that.”

“You’re living in the past.” He took her shoulders, but this time his hands weren’t as gentle. “You’re fighting ghosts.”

“I may have my ghosts, but I don’t live in the past. I can’t afford to.” She put her hands to his wrists, but let them lie there only a moment before she let go. “I can’t afford to pretend to myself about you.”

He wanted to demand, he wanted to pull her with him to the sofa and prove to her that she was wrong. He resisted. It wasn’t the first time he’d used courtroom skill, courtroom tactics, to win on a personal level. “We’ll leave it your way for now,” he said easily. “But the case isn’t closed. Are you hungry?”

Unsure whether she should be uneasy or relieved, Liz nodded. “A little.”

“Let’s have breakfast. We’ve got plenty of time before the plane leaves.”

* * *

She didn’t trust him. Though Jonas kept the conversation light and passionless throughout breakfast, Liz kept herself braced for a countermove. He was a clever man, she knew. He was a man, she was certain, who made sure he got his own way no matter how long it took. Liz considered herself a woman strong enough to keep promises made, even when they were to herself. No man, not even Jonas, was going to make her change the course she’d set ten years before. There was only room enough for two loves in her life. Faith and her work.

“I can’t get used to eating something at this hour of the morning that’s going to singe my stomach lining.”

Liz swallowed the mixture of peppers, onions and eggs. “Mine’s flame resistant. You should try my chili.”

“Does that mean you’re offering to cook for me?”

When Liz glanced up she wished he hadn’t been smiling at her in just that way. “I suppose I could make enough for two as easily as enough for one. But you don’t seem to have any trouble in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I can cook. It’s just that once I’ve finished, it never seems worth the bother.” He leaned forward to run a finger down her hand from wrist to knuckle. “Tell you what—I’ll buy the supplies and even clean up the mess if you handle the chili.”

Though she smiled, Liz drew her hand away. “The question is, can you handle the chili? It might burn right through a soft lawyer’s stomach.”

Appreciating the challenge, he took her hand again. “Why don’t we find out? Tonight.”

“All right.” She flexed her fingers, but he merely linked his with them. “I can’t eat if you have my hand.”

He glanced down. “You have another one.”

He made her laugh when she’d been set to insist. “I’m entitled to two.”