My heart sped up, and my hand started to shake. I abandoned fumbling for the keyhole and instead slid my hand into the front pocket of my handbag. My fingers closed around the little canister of pepper spray I'd never needed to use.

Until now.

More footsteps. I tightened my grip on the can.

Behind me, someone cleared his throat.

I took a deep breath and whirled around.

"Hey-"

I screamed and pressed the trigger. Then I kicked my attacker in the shin.

CHAPTER TEN.

There was a point where I couldn't actually tell who was screaming louder me or Pete.

"Stop, JJ, stop spraying!"

"Pete? Ohmygod, I'm so sorry, is that you?"

He was hopping around on one leg, alternately grabbing his shin where I'd kicked him and trying to shield his eyes from my pepper spray.

I stopped spraying.

He stopped jumping and lowered his hands, revealing the familiar chiseled cheekbones, familiar dark hair, familiar bottle-green eyes.

Actually, the eyes were looking a little red.

I dropped the pepper spray canister and stared, going from fear to remorse to anger all in a ten second span.

"What the hell were you thinking jumping out and scaring me like that?" I demanded.

"I didn't jump," he sputtered, yanking up the hem of his T-shirt to mop at his eyes. I looked away, not wanting the beauty of his washboard abs to dampen my fury.

"I came right up your walkway, perfectly obvious," he said from behind his shirt, coughing a little. "Not my fault your back was turned. You know, you really should get some extra porch lights on the side of the house. Oh, and FYI, that was the same shin you kicked the other day in your sister's shop."

"What the hell are you doing here at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday night?" I shrieked. I knew I sounded angry, but I was really just scared as hell.

Pete sighed and dropped the hem of his shirt, blinking at me with red, watery eyes. "Any chance you'd let me wash my face before I answer that?"

My heart was still slamming against my ribs and I briefly ran through some of my suspicions about Pete. Of course since I'd already blinded and maimed him, the least I could do was offer a washcloth.

I turned and unlocked the door, pushing it open and gesturing for him to follow. He squinted and tripped over the step.

"Careful," I cautioned.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he muttered, limping toward the bathroom.

Feeling a little guilty, I ambled over to my laptop and did a quick Google search on treating the effects of pepper spray. I went to my kitchen and found baking soda, honey, and milk before heading to my bedroom to grab an old T-shirt that was about twelve sizes too big for me.

"Here," I called to Pete through the bathroom door, tapping lightly to get his attention over the sound of running water. "Rinse with baby shampoo first, then wash up with equal parts milk and honey with a little baking soda. Put this shirt on so you don't get it all over your face again."

"Thanks," Pete said, opening the door with his shirt off. I felt my jaw begin to drop, and I willed myself not to stare.

Not possible.

I was just grateful his eyes were still watery and his vision was sufficiently impaired so he didn't notice me gawking like I'd never seen such perfect abs in the flesh.

Come to think of it, I hadn't.

The urge to touch was suddenly overwhelming, so I retreated back to the living room to sit on my hands.

When he emerged five minutes later, his hair was damp and his face was still blotchy and red. The T-shirt that typically came down to my knees was straining across his shoulders and biceps, and I felt a pang of nervous hope that it might just split right in two. He was rubbing my lavender hand towel over his eyes, looking more handsome than he had the right to. I was still scared and furious, but I felt something inside me get a little melty.

"Look, I'm sorry I pepper sprayed you-"

"And kicked me," he said, folding the towel tidily.

"And kicked you," I agreed. "Actually, I'm not sure I'm sorry about that part. You scared the hell out of me. You couldn't have called my name or something?"

"I did. That was right about the time you pulled the pepper spray."

"I didn't know I was so fast on the draw."

"Yeah, well, something to remember," he grumbled.

"What, for the next time you decide to accost me?"

Pete smiled weakly and limped over to my couch. He dropped down next to Blue Cat, who sniffed Pete's hand and head-butted his leg. Pete began to pet him absently as he mopped at his eyes with the towel again.

Then he stopped rubbing and looked at me, just watching for a few endless moments. He didn't say anything right away. I stood there at the edge of the rug, not sure what to do with my hands.

"I came over to tell you something," Pete said at last.

"You couldn't have called?"

"I could have, but I thought this was something best handled in person. Besides, I wanted to see you."

I felt a little flutter of excitement in my stomach but pushed it down. "Oh?"

"Look, JJ - I think about you a lot. A whole lot. And not just in a friendly way. That's probably become obvious."

I felt my hands start to shake, so I folded my arms over my chest. My fists and elbows vibrated as my heart slammed hard against my ribs. This time, I knew it wasn't terror. Not entirely, anyway.

"What about your girlfriend?" I challenged. "Does she know you're thinking about me a lot?"

Pete sighed. "Right. See, this is part of the something I wanted to talk to you about."

He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "Look, I haven't been honest with you. With everyone at work, really, but you're the one I really want to come clean with right now."

I sat very still, not certain what he was telling me, but pretty sure it was best not to interrupt while he tried to get it out.

"You know how I said I had a girlfriend?"

"Of course. The one you bought the handbag for."

"Right. My mysterious girlfriend back in L.A."

I frowned at him, watching as he grew increasingly agitated trying to tell his story.

"There's no girlfriend, JJ. I made her up."

"What are you talking about? I saw her picture on your desk. The gorgeous brunette with the big boobs?"

Pete winced a little at that. "That's my sister."

I stared at him, uncomprehending. "You're dating your sister?"

"No! No, I'm not dating my sister, are you nuts?"

"Well you're the one who just told me he bought an expensive handbag for an imaginary girlfriend who may or may not be his sister."

"Just let me explain."

"Go ahead," I said, leaning back in my chair. Pete took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. I felt a brief pang of sympathy as I noticed the red welts around his eyes.

"Look, I don't mind being a secretary," he said. "In fact, I love the job. I love the work, I love the people I love everything about it. But you know as well as I do, most of the guys who work there are sort of good old boys."

"Collin's not," I said, feeling an odd pang of defensiveness as I said his name.

I saw Pete's expression darken just a little. "Right. Collin's not. But the vast majority of guys out there are hardworking blue-collar, conservative men who aren't entirely comfortable with the notion of a male secretary."

"Or a female heavy equipment operator?" I added.

Pete gave me a lopsided smile. "You're beautiful and so obviously girly that no one questions it. It's a turn-on for half the guys out there to see you wheeling around in a 150,000-pound machine."

I raised an eyebrow at him, not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed.

"Look," he continued, "the point is that I knew I'd be up against a lot of guys who'd be questioning my sexual orientation from day one. Not that there's anything at all wrong with that, but-"

"Wait, you're an action hero stud. Colt McTrigger? The guys out there worship you."

"Doesn't mean they don't have certain assumptions about Hollywood and male actors and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it," I said, holding up my hands. "So you supposedly made up a girlfriend to convince everyone you're straight. Got it. Whatever."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you don't believe me."

"I'm not sure what to believe."

"So which is it exactly? You think I'm gay or you think I actually have a girlfriend?"

"Both! Neither! I don't know."

Pete looked at me, his expression a little perplexed.

"Look," I said, "the guy I'm kinda sorta dating has spent the last few months telling me the county has a strict policy about co-workers dating. I just found out there's no such policy, so pardon me if I'm not tripping over my feet to believe everything the next guy tells me."

"Right. Okay, so you're feeling a little mistrustful."

I sighed. "A little," I said finally. "Look, I'm not sure this adds up. This is Oregon, for crying out loud. Aren't we like the most liberal state in the U.S.? No one's going to think you're gay if you're a male secretary without a girlfriend."

"I don't have a girlfriend," he insisted, staring at me with such intensity I had to look away. "I promise."

"Why are you telling me this now?" I asked, meeting his gaze again.

Those green eyes stared straight into mine. I swallowed and forced myself not to look away this time.

"I just wanted to come clean with you," he said finally. "I want to get to know you better."

I stared at him, hating how vulnerable I felt, but wanting to get to the bottom of everything. "Why the hell should I believe you? How do I know your girlfriend isn't sitting there in her stylish L.A. apartment right now watching Sex and the City reruns and sipping a cosmo?"

"I can promise you, that's not the case."

I didn't say anything to that. I was still digesting the news.

"What if you talked to her?" Pete asked.

"Who?"

"My sister. Scarlet. The one in the photo?"

"Your sister's name is Scarlet?"

"Focus, JJ. Let me call my sister. She'll tell you she's the one in the photo. That I don't have a girlfriend. That I'm perpetually, hopelessly alone."

"You make it sound so sexy."

"I'm dialing right now," he said, pulling his cell out of his pocket.