Course set, Erin realized that she’d missed every meal that day. Muttering to herself, she said, “I could write a paper about the effects of threats from a serial killer on the appetite.” As a psychologist, she recognized the dark humor as a defense mechanism. It would be stupid not to be afraid, she decided, but fear would never control her the way she’d allowed in the past.

And she’d fight back by ordering dinner.

Thirty minutes later, she stood on her balcony, watching evening traffic. Down below, she saw the deliveryman from Thai Palace in his familiar Jeep, baseball cap pulled low over his hair. Anticipating him, Erin pressed the buzzer to open the door. “Come on up,” she instructed.

She counted the bills for payment as she waited for him to make it up to the third floor. The elevator was notoriously slow, which was why she often took the stairs. Thinking of the worn cap, she added a healthy tip. When the knock finally sounded on her apartment door, she absently opened it. “You have the fastest delivery in town.”

“I aim to please,” drawled a voice that did not belong to the deliveryman. Erin confirmed her suspicion by turning to find Gabriel in the doorway. He held her order in one hand, and with the other, he extended a gathering of flowers. Jasmine.

At the sight of the tiny purple blooms, something in the region of her heart melted. “Thank you,” she murmured automatically, accepting the flowers.

“Two peace offerings,” he explained. “Give me five minutes to speak with you about something, then I’ll clear out, I promise. Flowers like my dad taught me and dinner from my favorite place. You won’t have to eat with me or anything—but I hope bribery works.”

She frowned. “Five minutes?”

“Tops.”

Sighing, Erin shrugged. “Fine.”

“I appreciate it.”

“We can talk here. You stay on that side of the door.” Vanity urged her to rush into the bathroom and at least bundle her hair into a band, throw on a pair of jeans. “I’m not dressed for company.”

“You look gorgeous,” he said off-handedly, looking down the short hallway.

Surprised by the compliment, Erin cast a furtive glance down. She wore a black tank and shorts. Chagrined, she swept a hand over the hair she’d piled into an unruly heap atop her head, forgoing the tidy bun or taut braid. “Ah … well…”

Gabriel shifted to lean against the opposite wall and turned his attention back to her. Thin black straps suspended a scooped neck that framed the expanse of skin and appealing swell delightfully. Beneath the abbreviated hem of the shorts, the curvy shape and lithe legs that had been successfully disguised by the morning’s suit were revealed. It had been worth the risk to his pride to have his expectations proven true. “I wonder what you’re hiding, Dr. Abbott?”

“Hiding?” Erin asked, against her better judgment.