Lucy pushed her plate away. It didn’t seem right for Temple to know more about him than she did. “What else did you learn?”

“He graduated from college with honors,” Temple said.

Panda frowned, clearly displeased by any information that didn’t portray him as a menace to society. “How do you know that?”

“Google.” She sniffed. “You don’t think I’d have kept hiring you if I hadn’t investigated you?”

“By Googling me? You’re a crackerjack detective, all right.”

“He was also in the army,” Temple went on. “Boring. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything about his romantic history. I think we can safely assume a trail of broken hearts has been left behind.”

“Or unmarked female graves,” Lucy said, which only made him smile.

How could Temple work out with him every day and not want to rip his clothes off? Instead, whenever she took a break, she tended to stare out the window. Lucy studied the long tendon that ran down the side of his neck. The one she liked to bite. He caught her at it and gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking.

PANDA DIDN’T COME THROUGH HER sliding door that night, and the boathouse remained dark. It was the first time they hadn’t been together since their affair had begun, which led her to wonder … If his connection with Bree only involved real estate, why was he being so secretive?

Rain peppered the windows the next morning, matching her mood. What was it that he didn’t want her to know? She needed their affair to be completely straightforward—no murky corners or dark mysteries she might find herself pondering when they weren’t together. She pulled on an old yellow slicker that one of the Remingtons, maybe Bree herself, had left behind in an upstairs closet, and she set off across the wet grass. But instead of heading for the woods, she turned toward the three acres of land on the north side of the house, a rockier area she hadn’t originally realized was part of his property. By the time she reached the top of the steep slope, she was out of breath.

Panda stood at the edge of the bluff in what she’d come to think of as his brooding place. He wore a high-end dark gray rain jacket and jeans. His head was bare, hair wet and wind tousled. She took in his swarthy, rain-slicked face. He didn’t look happy to see her.

“I missed my sex last night,” she said. “I’m thinking about firing you.”