“I’m afraid you’re already getting in over your head.”

 He laughed and pulled out his wallet.

 “Let’s at least split the check,” she said.

 “Forget it. I’m not in over my head, Emmie. You don’t scare me at all. And you’ve been through a lot, but I know people who have been through worse. Hell, I know people who have served in combat several times. They have issues, just like you, and they’re working on them. It’s very tough, too.”

 She was feeling a little desperate. He was clearly forging ahead, not taking seriously how bad she might be for him, and she wasn’t going to be able to hold him back. She adored him for wanting her still. And she feared for him. “When I asked him why he’d kept a mistress, he said he needed someone to fuck that he could talk to!”

 “It’s hard to believe how pathetic he was,” Adam said, peeling off bills to put with the check. “The dumb shit,” he added, shaking his head.

 “I accused him of being a common thief and he slapped me and told me there was nothing common about what he’d done!”

 “He hit you?” he asked, his green eyes darkening dangerously.

 “Just the once,” she said more quietly.

 “I kind of want to dig him up and beat the shit out of him, but dead is dead. I bet he didn’t get away with anything this time. I may not go to church much anymore but I still believe there’s a heaven and a hell.” He put his wallet away. “About ready, Emma?”

 “Yeah,” she said. “Sure.”

 Walking to the car, his hand on the small of her back, she gave it one more try. “Adam, you heard me, right? I’m coming out of a really dysfunctional situation. Beyond dysfunctional. Sick. Really sick. And it could follow me for quite a while. You don’t want to be too close if—”

 He stopped walking when they were almost to the car. He put his hands on her waist and looked into her eyes. “Emma, I’ve been waiting for you to come back for sixteen years. I’m not going to run scared now, just because some insane asshole did his best to leave you wounded. I told you—we can get through this.” He leaned toward her and gave her lips a sweet kiss. “You don’t have to warn me anymore. You didn’t have to warn me in the first place. Now I’m going to take you home. And if there’s a God, you’re going to invite me in.”

 “I worry about the concept of us,” she said. “I don’t want you to be collateral damage when the detritus of Richard’s crimes sprinkles down on me.”

 “I understand completely,” he said. “Finished now?”

 “Don’t be a fool,” she said.

 “I won’t.”

 * * *

 All the way home from the restaurant, he talked to her softly of casual things, of the beauty of Napa, the way the cold drizzle of a Sonoma County winter had always made him crave soups and fires. She didn’t have a fireplace of course, but he did. He was looking forward to showing off his house—it was over fifty years old in a quiet tree-lined neighborhood and he’d enjoyed renovating it. He’d done most of the work himself, tearing up old carpet and installing hardwood floors, texturing and painting walls. “I focused on the four most important rooms—living room, kitchen, master and bath. The new kitchen is so beautiful it almost makes me want to cook.”

 “Don’t be hasty,” she said.

 He was seducing her with ordinary things, as if he knew how starved she’d been for a reality she understood—soups and fires, rainy days in a home that hugged her, the love of a good man.

 After their lunch they went to her house. He held her hand the entire drive and when she let him into her little bungalow, he glanced around and said, “You’ve been busy.”

 “Just a little settling in,” she said.

 “Come here,” he said, locking her door behind them and pulling her into his arms.

 His lips came down on hers with an urgency and hunger she hadn’t been prepared for. After one brief moment of surprise, she matched his passion with the surging need of her own. It wasn’t just her need for intimacy because it had been so long but her need for it to be him.

 Clothing was removed while they kissed. It seemed that it only took seconds for them to be in her bed, skin to skin, lips to lips. Emma hadn’t felt the touch of loving hands in years. Adam’s beautiful hands, his lips, his strong fingers, did the one thing she didn’t think possible—took her away. Far away. She thought only of him, intoxicated by his scent, his taste, his body.

 He was thoroughly beautiful. He had long, strong legs, muscled arms and shoulders, a smooth, hairless chest. With his thick brown hair, expressive brows, emerald-green eyes and strong jaw, he should probably be sculpted and put on display. For this moment in time he belonged only to her. And she to him.

 She inhaled his breath, licked her way into his mouth, opened for him and welcomed him into her body. He was gentle and smooth, teasing her into a frenzy. He responded to her arousal with heat, finally taking her on a powerful ride that had her crying out his name as she came. And came. And came.

 He joined her, softly whispering her name, his large frame shuddering, his mouth at her neck, his big hands in her hair. She trembled with the aftershock of orgasm and he chuckled, a deep rumble. He kissed her eyes, her ears, her chin, her lips. Her calm returned so slowly; he didn’t leave her body, pushing into her softly, again and again. “Still worried about the concept of us?” he whispered in her ear.

 “You drugged me,” she accused.

 He pushed into her again. “A little bit. Damn, woman, I knew we’d be great together, but I didn’t have enough imagination to know how great.”