"You don't have to call anyone," I muttered, standing up and moving around the coffee table to sit beside him on the sofa. I stole a peek at the phone from the corner of my eye, trying to simultaneously convey indifference and catch a glimpse of his contacts list.

"Scarlet," the screen read. Beside it was a small photo of the same brunette in the picture on his desk.

"It doesn't say 'sister' or anything," I pointed out, nodding at the phone.

"Let me see your cell."

"Why?"

"I want to see if it says 'sister' next to Lori's name."

I sniffed and flopped back on the couch. "You don't have to call anyone. It's fine, Pete, really."

He smiled and hit the "talk" button. "Butthead," he said suddenly.

I scowled at him.

He held the phone away for a split second and whispered to me. "Not you, my sister. I've called her that since I was six."

"Charming."

He rolled his eyes and directed his attention back to the phone. "Hey, Butthead I'm here with that girl I was telling you about, JJ?"

He listened for a second, then smiled at me. "Right, the fiery redhead with the nice butt. She wants to talk to you."

My face had started to blaze from the butt comment, but I wasn't offended. In fact, I was a little impressed that he thought highly enough of my butt to mention it to his sister.

Okay,that sounded weirder than it probably was.

"Give me the phone," I muttered, grabbing it and turning away a little so he couldn't see my face flaming. "Hello?"

"Is this JJ? This is Scarlet, Pete's sister. I hear my brother really fucked things up."

"Oh, well, he told me he had a girlfriend, and then-"

"Total bullshit. Are you kidding me? Who'd want him? And I say that with the utmost affection for him, and with the fervent hope that you might actually be willing to date him."

"Date him?"

"He's nuts about you I can tell you that much."

I looked at Pete, who was studying me with a smile. "What's she saying?"

"She's telling me about your incestuous relationship," I informed him.

I heard Scarlet's voice in my ear again. "Is he sitting there doing that thing where he tries to look all wide-eyed and innocent?"

"I don't think he can open his eyes that wide right now. I nailed him with pepper spray about fifteen minutes ago."

Scarlet laughed, a rich, warm sound that made me like her regardless of what I thought of her brother.

The jury was still out on that one.

"I'm sure he deserved it, whatever he did," she said. "Look, my brother's an idiot that's for sure. But he doesn't have a girlfriend. Not even close. He told a dumb white lie and it obviously backfired on him when you showed up and he realized he wanted to get to know you."

I felt my cheeks growing warm again. "I take it you've already spoken with him tonight?"

"Oh, I've heard about nothing but you for the past week. Trust me, the guy is single, stupid, and crazy about you."

I studied Pete again. He was petting Blue Cat, watching me with interest.

"She giving you an earful?" he asked, leaning back against my couch cushions.

"Something like that."

He held out his hand. "Let me talk to her."

"Just a minute," I said, waving him away. "Hey, Scarlet? Tell me something about him that only a sister would know."

She was quiet for so long that I wasn't certain she was still on the line. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer.

"On the back of his head, there's a scar about an inch long. You'll only see it if he shaves his head, which he probably hasn't done since he was ten."

"Okay," I said, satisfied with that answer. Pretty sure I'd still check later.

But Scarlet wasn't done.

"He got it when he stood up to the neighborhood bully for calling me a skank. I was twelve, Pete was eight, and the other kid was twice his size and almost twice his age, but Pete didn't even blink. He just stood there telling that kid he couldn't talk to me that way. That it wasn't okay to say mean things. The kid hit him with a rock, and Pete bled something awful. But he didn't cry. He's got this intense sense of right and wrong, and he's not afraid to stand up for the little guy. You know what I mean?"

Pete's bottle-green eyes were watchful, intense. I blinked, seeing him as that eight-year-old boy hell-bent on standing up to a bully to defend his sister's honor. I swallowed hard.

"JJ?" Scarlet asked. "You still there?"

"Yeah. I am. Thanks for that, Scarlet. I mean it. Hold on a sec, Pete wants to say goodbye."

I handed the phone to him and got up off the couch. My hands were oddly shaky as I made my way to the kitchen, looking for something to snack on. I hadn't had dinner, I realized, and set to work cutting up a brick of Tillamook cheddar and my favorite turkey sausage. I found a box of crackers and spread some on the plate, adding a handful of Greek olives to a little dish. I grabbed a half-full bottle of Chianti and a couple glasses and headed back to the living room.

Pete was just hanging up the phone as I set the tray on the coffee table.

"So you believe me now?" he asked, smiling.

"I guess," I said, dropping onto the sofa beside him and reaching for a cracker. I stacked layers of cheese and meat on it, shoving it in my mouth and chewing for a bit. "I'm not sure yet. Your reason sounds pretty stupid."

"What other reason would I have for inventing a girlfriend?"

"You tell me."

Pete reached out for the wine bottle and poured a little bit in each glass. "Are you always this suspicious?"

"No, it's a new thing," I said grimly. "Ever since I lost my job and found out my boyfriend wasn't truthful about county policies and you weren't truthful about your girlfriend. Oh, and since Collin accused me of being a spy, and my sister's intern went missing, and someone threatened me because I'm trying to figure out who's making fake handbags."

"Busy week you're having."

"No kidding."

We ate and sipped in silence, our fingers brushing each other by accident every couple minutes. I tried to ignore the shockwaves of warmth that tingled up my arm each time we touched. Tried to ignore the way my pulse galloped each time his shoulder moved against mine. It was no use. I was clearly still attracted to Pete even if he didn't have a girlfriend.

Wait, that wasn't right "Penny for your thoughts," Pete said.

I snorted into my wine glass. "Sorry, I'm much more expensive than that."

"I know. I've seen your taste in handbags."

I smiled and began stacking meat and cheese on a cracker. He touched my arm, causing me to look up at him again.

"JJ, I really am sorry I lied to you. I didn't mean for it to get out of control like that. And then Ernie had to go and ask you to help me buy a birthday gift for my girlfriend and-"

"It's kind of funny if you think about it," I said, draining my wine glass and reaching for the bottle. "Who gets the handbag?"

"Scarlet, of course. She has expensive taste, and her birthday's next month. So we're good?"

I shrugged and tipped more wine into my glass, then Pete's. I looked at the bottle for a moment, then met Pete's eyes.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

I took a deep breath, not sure how to ask the question. "Do you think Daniel had a reason for not wanting to publicly claim me as his girlfriend?"

"Yes," Pete said, not hesitating.

"Oh."

"He's a pig. Next question?"

I managed half a smile and looked down at my wine. Probably not worth saying anything else. I didn't want him to think I was one of those insecure, needy women.

Pete put a finger under my chin and forced me to look at him. "You're not really going to do this, are you?"

"Do what?"

"Play this mind game with yourself where you try to figure out if your boyfriend would have made your relationship public if you were younger or prettier or some bullshit like that."

I stared down at a cracker for a minute, thinking. "Look, it's not like I get to spend every day bending over recycling bins in a short skirt, okay?"

"God bless Green Barbie," Pete said. Seeing my frown, he put a hand on my knee. "You want to bend over recycling bins in a short skirt?"

"No, I like my job a lot better, but it's not exactly sexy. I don't go home every day feeling soft and feminine and beautiful and-"

Pete laughed. "Trust me, you don't have to bend over in a miniskirt to be sexy. You could turn up at work wearing a pair of grimy coveralls and a hard hat and an orange safety vest and men would still find you irresistible."

"Okay, funny guy then why did Daniel lie to me?"

Pete shrugged. "He's a man. We lie."

"That's comforting. Thank you."

"There's always the possibility he wasn't lying. Didn't you say he told you he didn't know the policy changed?"

"I guess. But why wouldn't he check to be sure before insisting on this whole covert relationship for the past three months?"

"I have no idea. Men aren't always the sharpest meatballs in the pot. Especially when women are involved."

I went back to piling cheese and meat on a cracker, concentrating on getting the proportions just right.

I thought about my sister, about the string of attractive men she'd dated over the years. Never once had she wallowed in self-doubt after one had moved on. Even after Adam left her heartbroken as a silly teenager, she never second-guessed her choice. Never wondered what flaw in her had driven him away. In fact, the only thing I'd really seen her question was whether she'd rather castrate a man with a spoon or an emery board.

I sighed and took a sip of wine. Maybe I should take a page from my sister's book.

I looked at Pete.

Something in my expression must have startled him. He dropped the piece of turkey sausage he was holding, sending Blue Cat flying off the sofa in a fervent quest for cured meat. Pete's eyes didn't leave mine. I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I hope the cat won't get sick if he eats-"

"It's fine," I said, leaning toward him.

Suddenly, I was grabbing the front of his shirt, jerking him toward me with enough ferocity to cause whiplash in a lesser man.

Instead, Pete came willingly. His arms enveloped me as my mouth found his and kissed him hard enough to do damage. Pete kissed me back, clearly not a man accustomed to being dominated, but willing to play along.

A part of me I didn't recognize a part driven by betrayal and lust and anger and frustration and desire gave a small, startled groan as Pete pulled me onto his lap.

My hands were suddenly everywhere, clawing at the buttons on his shirt, twining in his hair, touching his face- "Ouch," he muttered as my fingers met the pepper-sprayed flesh beside his eye.

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

I dug my nails into his shoulders, kissing him harder, pressing my breasts against his chest so fiercely it hurt.

In a good way.

Pete responded by cupping my butt with both hands, drawing me against him to leave no question of whether he liked things a little rough.

Until that moment, I'd never known that I did.

I gave a fleeting thought to Daniel and where this fit into our "slow things down" plan. Was he sucking face with other people? Did I care?