Not a lie.

Lydia wanted him. Physically, that was. And he was going to have to use that to his advantage.

But he also wanted her. So he was going to have to be careful—and in this, they were a pair. He, too, was wrestling with himself.

Snap.

As he stepped up onto the porch, he continued to be quiet because he wanted her to remain focused—because he wanted to study her for a bit longer. He also felt the need to be in control—of both of them.

“See something out of place?” he said when he was ready.

His target wheeled around and put her hand to the base of her throat. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Sorry I snuck up on you.”

“It’s okay.” She looked back out at the view. “I’m just jumpy.”

He stayed silent, giving her the space to tell him something, anything, because he was curious to see what she’d come up with for conversation.

When she just seemed to get lost in the lake view again, he gave her a nudge: “Is it what was in the newspaper this morning?”

She pivoted to him and looked up through the dappling sunlight, her brown eyes catching the golden illumination so that her irises were the color of whiskey.

How fitting, he thought remotely. A man could get drunk on them.

Not him, though. He might catch a buzz, but there’d be no under the influence, much less intoxication, for Daniel Joseph.

“I saw it in the break room,” he murmured. “The front page of the newspaper. I read the article on the hiker who was found not far from here.”

“It was a good four miles into the preserve.”

“Like I said, it’s around the block. Compared to the Canadian border.”

“You’re not in any danger working here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not scared.”

She considered him for a moment and pushed a loose curl out of her face. “Maybe you should be. Wolves are wild animals. Their rules are their own.”

“Let me amend that statement. Fear is a creation of the mind. It’s an internal fiction.” He put his palms up. “If you refuse to believe in it, it’s fire without oxygen. A spark without kindling.”

Her eyes returned to the view of the water and the mountain opposite them. “You haven’t met true evil yet. And I commend you for your luck.”

“You’re not looking at the lake, are you. It’s that thing on the mountain, the building site.”

“Abomination,” she muttered. “An absolute eye-sore.”

Daniel joined her at the rail. “So that’s where the hotel is going, huh.”

“Not if I can stop it.” A harsh laugh came out of her. “And I can’t.”

“So that’s your evil.”

“They’re taking things they don’t have a right to—and before you throw out something like, hey, they own that property, they can build whatever they want on it, I’ll stop you right there. They’re poisoning my wolves on my property, which is more than illegal.”

“Murder of animals in the first degree?”

Angry eyes swung his way. “You think this is funny.”

“I have no sense of humor, remember? And I’m not expressing an opinion, I’m just trying to clarify yours. I don’t get involved in business that isn’t my own.”

“Well, sometimes you have to get involved because it’s the only way you can sleep at night.” She cleared her throat. “Or I suppose you can go through life not connected to anything, floating above it all as you skip from place to place. I’d argue that kind of insulation doesn’t keep you warm, it keeps you numb. But what do I know, right.”

The sliding glass door opened behind them, the pink-haired receptionist leaning out. “Lydia, the executive director is here and he wants to see you in his office.”

“Peter’s on-site?” Shock registered on his woman’s face. “I thought he wasn’t coming in.”

Not that she was his, Daniel pointed out to himself.

“Surprise, surprise. And he wants a royal audience with you, you lucky dog.”

Lydia ducked her head and went inside. As she slid the glass door closed, he thought she would look back. She didn’t.

Left on his own, Daniel narrowed his eyes on the construction site across the valley.

If only she knew the truth, he thought with a hard smile. The wolves were more than just his business to get involved in.

But he needed to keep that to himself for the duration of his stay. Especially from the likes of her.

LYDIA WALKED INTO Peter Wynne’s open doorway. Knocking on the jamb, she waited until the man looked up from his phone.

In the lull, she studied the crown of his sandy-blond hair. He kept it short-and-straight and in a rigid side part, swooping the strands over the top where things were getting thin even though he was only in his late thirties. Likewise, the rest of him seemed to be prematurely aging, his navy-blue blazer and gray flannel slacks, his button-down and club tie, not the kind of thing men of his generation wore.

It was like someone had dropped him in the present from a Men’s Wearhouse ad, ca. 1987—

With a curse, he slammed his cell phone facedown and looked up through his steel-rimmed glasses—only to do a double take like he’d been slapped.

“Jesus! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

She put her hands up. “I’m sorry, but you asked to see me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Oh, Candy. “Well, since I’m here, I need your signature on the new employment contract—”

“Just sign for me.”

Lydia frowned. “My signature isn’t authorized for—”

“My name. Sign it.” He waved her off and went back to his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

Lydia glanced behind herself. Then shut them in together. He was texting fast, his fingers flying over the screen.

When he looked up again, he frowned as if he were confused. As if he might have lost track of time—or forgotten that he’d dismissed her.

“What now?”

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I know we don’t know each other outside of work, but something is clearly going on.”

Peter Wynne took a deep breath, in the way somebody did when they wanted to be left alone and had the sense that screaming at the top of their lungs was going to have the opposite effect.

“I’m fine.” His eyes went back to his phone. “I’m just busy getting ready for the board meeting next month.”

“So you’ve seen the financials?”

When he just started texting again, she went across to his desk, planted her hands, and leaned in. “The last time you were in here for a full day was a month ago. I don’t need the details, I don’t require an explanation—what I’m looking for from you is either a resignation or a recommittal to this organization. You’re the executive director—”

Now, the curse was exhausted. “I really don’t have time for this right now—”

“It’s not about what you need. It’s about everything that can’t happen around here unless you step aside or get your shit together. This organization has to have a leader and you’re the one we’ve got on our letterhead. Something has to change, and I’m giving you an opportunity to make the choice before I make it for you.”