Because it was all he could do, he reached down for the shampoo bottle. Squeezing some into his palm, he washed her hair for her, sudsing up the strands, being careful not to get any into her eyes. Then he made sure all the soap was out, his broad palm moving over her head again and again.

There was an almost-new bar of Ivory soap in a dish, the edges still sharp as he rolled it over in his hands. He washed her body with the same care, and watching the suds slip down onto her glistening breasts and drip off her nipples was nearly enough to get him going again. But they were out of time, the hourglass having been turned over the second they’d met, all the sand now gone from the top half.

It was time to leave.

When he was sure her smooth, beautiful skin was clean, he kissed her chastely. “I’ll get you a towel.”

He cut the faucet as he stepped out and stretched for the rod across the way. When he turned back, he had to stop and just stare at the woman in the mist. She was as ancient as time in her naked glory, and some romantic notion in his fucking pea brain turned her into the pinnacle of all that had come before.

She was the apex.

At least for him.

And that was the way it worked, didn’t it. Perfection was relative, not any singular characteristic, or even a group of them, but rather how the composite fit together for the person who was regarding the whole.

Could you fall in love in a matter of days? he wondered.

Fuck that. When it came to Lydia, he’d fallen in seconds, standing in the doorway of her office for that interview.

Daniel dried her off and helped her out of the enclosure. Then he wrapped her up.

“What about you?” she said as he opened the door to the hall. “You’ll get cold.”

It’s nothing compared to the center of my chest, he thought.

“Don’t worry about me.”

As she lowered her head, he tipped her chin back up. And kissed her softly.

Lydia left the bathroom, turning away from him, going alone to where they’d slept side by side. Her wet feet left prints on the wood, and as she disappeared into her bedroom, he watched the moisture marks recede.

Closing the door, he opened the saddlebags he’d brought in with him. He used the T-shirt he’d slept in to dry off, and he threw some clothes on. Back out in the hall, he glanced to her open bedroom. He could hear her moving around, the creaking of the floor and the rustling of cloth making him picture her standing in front of her bureau, snapping on her bra, pulling on her panties, drawing up pants, tugging on a shirt over her still-wet hair.

Shaking his head, he hit the stairs with his stuff. If he went in there?

He was never going to leave her.

Down in the kitchen, he set his bags by the door and hustled into the cellar. During dinner, he’d run a load of wash through her machines, and as he pulled out his boxers, alternate pair of jeans, and three T-shirts from her dryer, he pressed them to his nose because they smelled like her.

He was ascending the rough-hewn steps, halfway back up, when he heard the knocking on the front door.

Instantly alert, he put his hand to the small of his back—

Damn it, he’d been distracted and hadn’t tucked.

Hurrying up to the kitchen, he leaned around the open cellar door, using it as a cover to look to the front of the house. Overhead, Lydia was jogging down the stairs.

“It’s okay,” she called out. “It’s just Eastwind.”

“Lydia, don’t answer the door before I—”

“I’ve got it.”

Just as she reached for the knob, Daniel dove for his saddlebags and got out a gun. As he wheeled around, he got a look at the sheriff standing in the entry. The man took off his hat and held it in front of himself with both hands.

“Is there something wrong?” Lydia asked the guy.

A pair of dark brown eyes shifted past her and locked on Daniel’s face. The other man’s expression hardened to the point of granite.

“Sheriff?” she said.

“I gave you a chance,” Eastwind said to Daniel. “To do what was right on your own. But you didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Lydia glanced over her shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“He’s not who you think he is.” Eastwind took a folder out from behind his hat. “Daniel Joseph is an alias. He never worked at any of the businesses he provided you as references—”

“Hold on.” She put her hands up and shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“Candy gave me his résumé yesterday morning. She wasn’t sure she had done the background check right, and she was worried because he was … getting close to you. When I went deeper than she did? Nothing exists.”

As the folder was pushed forward, she took it with a shaking hand. Then she looked back into the kitchen. “Daniel?”

Eastwind spoke up. “I’m not going to tell you how to run your life, Ms. Susi, but whatever this man has said about himself, whatever he’s done for you … you can’t trust it. I can’t even find his true identity. He’s literally a ghost.”

There was a tense silence. And then Daniel gave her the only answer he could.

He bent down and picked up his saddlebags. Slipping them onto his shoulder, he thought about the night he’d spent beside her, staring up at the ceiling, looking for a way out that included her not hating him.

There hadn’t been one.

“I don’t understand. Daniel … what is he saying.”

Except she was catching on. Even without looking at whatever the sheriff had put in that folder, she was coming to understand the truth—her heart was just having trouble getting on board with what her brain was evolving to.

“I called,” she said insistently, looking back and forth between him and Eastwind. “I spoke to the apartment building and they told me they loved the work you did—”

“Who exactly did you talk to?” the sheriff asked. “Because I also called the numbers and every one of them gave him a glowing report. But then I checked the websites and the numbers listed were different. And when I sent a friend of mine to some of the addresses? Sure, they were apartment buildings and schools—just with other names. And none of them had ever had a Daniel Joseph working for them.”

Lydia stared down at the folder. And then her eyes returned. “Daniel?”

With a grim stride, he walked forward, and he met her stare the whole time. Because he deserved every bit of the disbelief and dawning anger that was coming over her face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“So he’s right?” She opened the folder, but didn’t look at the report. “You lied to me?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at the sheriff. “I was leaving this morning.”

“You’re still here,” the man said. “So you’ll excuse me for not believing—”

“Why.” As Lydia spoke up, she stepped into Daniel’s path, blocking his way out. “Why did you come to the Project in the first place.”

“I never intended to hurt you—”

“Why are you really here? It clearly wasn’t about a job for a drifter.”

“I protected you. Back at that deer stand. With the locator—”