“We can agree on that. If you’re so against this, why did you bring her?”

“Because she’s my friend. Because she asked me to.”

He accepted that with a slight nod. Loyalty was something else he could feel pumping out of her. “And my private number? You dug that up, as well?”

Her lip curled in something close to a sneer. “That’s my job.”

“And are you good at it?”

“Damn right.”

“Fine. I’m also good at mine, and we’re going to be working together.”

“What makes you think—?”

“Because you care. And if there’s a chance—oh, even the slimmest chance—that I’m what I claim to be, you won’t want to risk ignoring it.”

She could feel the heat from his fingers. It seemed to sizzle right through the skin to her bones. It occurred to her that she was afraid. Not physically. It was deeper than that. She was afraid because she’d never felt this kind of power before.

“I work alone.”

“So do I,” he said calmly. “As a rule. We’re going to break the rules.” He reached in, quick as a snake. He wanted one thing, one small thing, to rub her nose in. Finding it, he smiled. “I’ll be in touch very soon. Mary Ellen.”

He had the pleasure of seeing her mouth fall open, of seeing her eyes narrow as she thought back, struggling to remember if Rose had used her full name. But she couldn’t remember, couldn’t be sure. Shaken, she jerked away.

“Don’t waste my time, Donovan. And don’t call me that.” With a toss of her head, she strode to the car. She might not be psychic, but she knew he was grinning.

Chapter 2

Sebastian didn’t go back inside, not even after he had watched the little gray car trail down the ribbon of Highway 1. He stood on the porch, both amused and faintly irritated by the sizzles of anger and frustration Mel had left behind to spark in the air.

Strong-willed, he mused. And just brimming with energy. A woman like that would exhaust a peaceful man. Sebastian considered himself a peaceful man. Not that he wouldn’t mind poking at her a bit, the way a young boy pokes at glowing embers to see how often he can get a flame to shoot up.

It was often worth the risk of a few minor burns to make fire.