So what was with the sudden urge to talk to a virtual stranger about painful episodes from his past he’d never shared with anyone but Adam?

It didn’t make sense.

Yet it felt right.

He rested his elbow on the table and pressed his knuckles against his mouth.

Should he take a chance with this woman, share some of the wounds in his soul—or play it safe and shut down, as usual?

Eve turned, both mugs in hand, and walked toward him. Her wary expression indicated she’d picked up the negative vibes bouncing around the room.

Given her intelligence and intuitive abilities, that wasn’t surprising.

She joined him at the table and gestured toward his cake. “Go ahead and dig in.”

He picked up his fork, his pulse racing as fast as it had during the tense standoffs that were the lot of a street cop, when one wrong move could change the landscape of a life forever.

Just as tonight could, if he gave into the urge to open his heart.

“Is everything okay?” Eve’s tentative question refocused him.

“Yeah.” He poked at his cake. “Sort of.”

She wrapped her fingers around her mug. “I’m sorry if I ventured into restricted territory—or said anything to upset you.”

“It’s not what you said that upset me.” Why deny his angst? It was obvious Eve had tuned in to his emotional state. “It was the memories your question stirred back to life.”

She studied him, as if waging an internal debate—then released her mug and rested her fingers lightly on top of his. “I’m not a bad listener, if you need a sympathetic ear. On the other hand, I won’t take offense if you want to talk about the weather, eat your cake, and go home to your book. We all have too much pressure in our lives as it is. I don’t want to add to yours.”

Her gentle touch, the empathy and kindness in her deep green eyes, and the no-penalty escape she’d offered cinched his decision.

If he couldn’t take a chance with this caring woman, he was doomed to live in an emotional vacuum forever.

He examined the slender fingers covering his. Filled his lungs. “I appreciate that—but I’d like to stay awhile . . . and answer your earlier question.” He exhaled, psyching himself up for a point-of-no-return leap. “No, licking the knife didn’t bring back happy memories from my childhood. That treat wasn’t part of my normal routine.”

To her credit, she didn’t pounce on him with a follow-up question. She simply withdrew her hand and waited, giving him the space and time to decide what—and how much—to share.

He set his fork back down and linked his fingers on the table. “I told you once I was raised by my grandparents.”

“I remember.”