Leigh’s heartbeat sped up. She battled the urge to take his hand and pull him into her room. The impulse burned inside her. Her willpower was nonexistent tonight, but she knew better than to use sex as an anesthetic. It never worked.

“Do you set your system?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your alarm system.” He nodded toward the foyer. “It’s top of the line. Do you use it?”

“Yes. Well, at night I do.” She stepped around him and dropped the ice pack on the counter as she pulled out a bottle opener and popped the top off her beer. “I usually set it before I go to bed.”

“Is it new? Old?”

“About two years old.” She smiled. “You want to check out the rest of my security?”

“Yes.”

She’d been joking, but he seemed dead serious, and she watched with amusement as he walked to the back door. It led to a one-car garage where she stored a kayak and a paddleboard, along with the camping gear she hadn’t used since college. Brandon examined her locks and then stepped into the sunroom to check out her sliding glass door.

She could tell he didn’t like the slider.

“You should get a brace for this.”

“I know.” She stepped around him and unlocked the door, then pulled it open and led him onto the patio.

The October air was crisp, and the bricks felt cool against her bare feet. She switched on the lotus-shaped water fountain in the corner to provide a bit of light. The fountain’s soothing gurgle helped cover the traffic noise in front of her house.

She turned to look at him in the dimness. She’d never thought of her patio as small, but it seemed to shrink with Brandon on it. He looked so good standing there, all tall and broad-shouldered in his faded black T-shirt and jeans and his leather jacket.

He didn’t say anything, just watched her in a way that made butterflies flutter through her stomach. What did he think of her home? It shouldn’t matter, but for some reason it did. She wanted him to like it. She wanted him to think she was independent and accomplished and had her life together—even though most of the time she felt like she was faking all those things.

“So, what about you?” she asked. “Where do you live?”

“An apartment off Congress, near the bridge.”

“Wow. Nice area.”

He shrugged. “The place is small, but it’s close to work, at least. Can’t beat the location.” He nodded toward the flower bed. “I like your Knock Out roses.”

She turned to look at him, surprised. “Do you garden?”

“No.” He smiled. “My mom grows those, but hers are yellow. She always keeps vases of them around the house. Growing up, she used to have me put coffee grounds in the beds.”