Kate heard footsteps behind her, heard the clatter of something being put in the sink. She turned and met Lucas’s eyes. He knew it was Bryan; she could see that much in his expression. There was something in his eyes that tugged at her heartstrings. Hurt? Lucas looked away before she could pursue the thought.

“ . . . where we can talk in person,” Bryan was saying.

What had she missed? He wanted to meet?

Lucas leaned against the sink, facing her, his palms braced on the ledge behind him. His stance said, Talk all you want. I’m not going anywhere. What did he expect her to do? Hang up on Bryan? It wasn’t her fault he’d called. She hadn’t asked him to.

“What about it, Kate?”

What about what? She couldn’t think straight.

“Or I could come there if that’s easier. Whatever you want to do, but I want to see you. I need to be with you. Please.” He grated out the word.

Lucas cocked a brow.

Kate’s heart beat like a frightened bird’s, and she wasn’t sure why. She felt cornered. By both of them. She had to get out of here. Away from Lucas’s strange looks, away from Bryan’s hurt pleas.

“I can’t talk right now.”

“I’ll call you back,” he managed to get out before Kate hung up. She set the phone in the cradle. A step away, she could feel Lucas’s tension.

“I’m going for a walk.” Kate grabbed the doorknob leading to the beach.

“I want him to stop calling here.” Lucas crossed his arms over his chest, his right bicep bulging over his left fist. He looked away.

“I’m a little tired of everyone telling me what they want right now.” Kate pulled at the door.

Lucas put his hand against it. “He has no right calling my house.”

“Your house? I thought I lived here too.” Kate turned and was surprised to find Lucas so close, his arm extending past her.

“You know what I mean.”

Did she really? Was he being possessive of the house or of her? Why did he care if Bryan called? Sometimes she thought she saw something in Lucas’s eyes, but right now she thought it had nothing to do with her. It was about possession. Bryan and Lucas were like two wolves fighting over an animal carcass.

And I’m tired of being caught in the middle.

She jerked on the door, but he held it fast.

What was it with men and control? “Let me go.” She pulled at the knob again. It didn’t budge. “Lucas! Let me—”

“What if I don’t want to?”

And just like that, time slowed.

Almost against her will she looked at him. And was caught by his eyes. They pulled her in, held her hostage. She stilled, her anger fading, replaced by something . . . more complicated . . . less welcome . . .