“Very good answer.” He pulled a golden Sherpa-lined fleece blanket off the back of the sectional. The feeling of his hands tucking it around her, being so very gentle, sent another frisson of desire over her skin.

No, don’t grab him, Frankie.

From a bookshelf against the wall, he brought over a mix of books. “I don’t have a large selection of genres.”

Setting aside her naughty thoughts, she glanced at the titles. Children’s books, thrillers, and… “Horror?”

“The kid’s books are for when I have my niece over. The rest are mine. I also have gardening or recipe books if you’d prefer.”

“Much as I like gardening books, my only plants are on my apartment balcony.” Grief stabbed her heart. How she missed her summers gardening with Nonna where they’d pick produce and then cook together. Her sisters had never wanted to spend time on the farm; it’d been just Frankie and Nonna—and the rest of the Italian clan.

Bull’s eyes softened. “Frankie…”

“But I love thrillers and horror, and you have one of my old favorites.” She picked up The Watchers by Koontz, wiggled into a comfy position on the corner, and smiled up at him. “Thank you. For your rescue—and your care.”

“My pleasure.” He brushed his hand down her hair in a caress that was as soft as the blanket around her. When she leaned into his touch, his eyes heated, but then he stepped back with an almost inaudible sigh. “Gryff, want to keep her company?”

At the invitation, the dog jumped up and curled into a ball with his head on her feet.

“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?” she murmured, patting his soft fur. And so is your owner.

Bull disappeared for a minute and returned to leave a travel cup of tea in the sectional console, then moved away again. He sat down at the dining room table and opened a laptop.

Leaning her head back on the cushions, she took in a slow breath, feeling the low hum of desire in her veins. She shouldn’t let him kiss her, touch her, and somehow, after being almost killed, she no longer wanted to be prudent. She wanted to celebrate being alive…with the one man who tangled her emotions and wakened her lust in a way no one had in, perhaps, ever.

No. Behave yourself, Frankie. She shouldn’t start something. Not here. Not now.

Grumbling under her breath, she petted Gryff, let the simmering desire fade, and listened to the sounds around her. So quiet, she could hear the light clicking of his laptop keyboard. Through the open deck door came the soft lap of waves against the lake shore, and birds calling to each other. No traffic, no sirens, no neighbors talking or shouting or playing loud music.