“I don’t know.” I shifted in my seat, the sudden Dr. Phil analysis unnerving me. I wasn’t sure I really liked looking that deeply into myself. Let alone letting someone like Cal look. “Ordinary stuff.”

He leaned in close, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, smell the faint scent of wine on his lips. His eyes went dark, intense, like he could, in fact, see right into my psyche. Then his voice went low and intimate.

“I have a feeling there’s nothing ordinary about you, Bender.”

For a second I was terrified that he was going to kiss me. Terrified, because I had no idea whether I’d kiss him back.

Luckily, before I had a chance to decide, he stood, picking up another abused cushion from the floor.

“I think I should sleep here tonight.”

My breath caught in my throat. Shit, had my thoughts been that plain on my face?

As if he could read my mind, the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “On the couch.”

Right. I cleared my throat. “Um, yeah. Sure, yeah. That would be fine.”

I got up, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, and grabbed a couple blankets from the hall closet, throwing them down on the sofa.

“So, um, bathroom’s in there, fresh towels under the sink if you need them.”

Cal nodded. “Thanks.”

“So…good night.” I did an awkward little wave in his direction.

He smiled, his eyes still giving me that look like he could see right through me. “’Night, Bender.”

I quickly hightailed it to my bedroom, ignoring the mess of clothes and papers and files the intruder had made of my floor. Instead, I kicked off my shoes, stripped off my jeans, and jumped in bed. I slipped under the covers in my T-shirt, feeling just how tired the drain of earlier adrenaline had left me. I closed my eyes, letting the distant sounds of the freeway lull me to sleep.

It wasn’t until I was just drifting off that I realized I’d completely missed my cyber date with Man in Black.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of Matt Lauer’s voice coming from my living room full blast. Reluctantly, I peeled myself out of bed and stumbled though the bedroom door. I’m not exactly what you’d call a morning person. I’m more of a don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-hooked-up-my-coffee-IV person. Preferably after noon.

“Jesus, what is that racket?” I asked, stumbling into the living room.