"Thank you," she said stiffly. "I need to go to Ray's Billiards."

"Interesting choice. My chariot awaits."

He escorted her to his souped-up, overpowering muscle car. She might hate it, but it was hard not to smile at his obvious adoration for the vehicle. He actually stroked the steering wheel as he pulled out. Those long, tapered fingers were extra large but seemed tender. Would he treat a woman with a combination of roughness and care? Somehow, the idea of him being gentle shattered her composure.

Oh, my goodness. What was she thinking?

Arilyn cleared her throat and dove into a neutral topic. "Did you always want to become a cop?"

He eased the car out to the main road. "Seemed like a good way to stop the criminals. No one else was doing anything about it."

"Did you grow up in a rough neighborhood?"

"The average Bronx apartment in Woodlawn."

"What was it like?"

He shot her another glance. "Poking around in my head again?"

"Just making conversation. You don't have to answer if it's too painful."

He laughed, deep and long, and Arilyn studied his profile. Carved from granite, the roughness of his features pieced together a simple brutality that warned her this man could be dangerous. "I may be a disappointment to you, little one. I hide no secrets, and made peace with my crap a long time ago."

The distracted endearment made her tummy free fall. Maybe it was the dark, sensual melody of his voice as he said it. He'd called her that once before over the summer when they first met, and she had never forgotten it. It was so . . . intimate. Her body sprung to life, surprising her with its sudden demand for his lips over hers. Odd. She rarely had a reaction to men on such a primal, physical scale. Her poetry professor from NYU. The artist from that watercolor class she took. Her yoga teacher. And now Stone Petty.

All had ended badly. But at least she had liked the others.

If her past was any indication of luck, she'd better pass right over Stone Petty. Arilyn refocused on their conversation. "Most people have a difficult time accepting the truth of the past and who they are."

"I learned it's much easier to deal with facts and truth than with pretty lies and denials," he said. "Tell you what. I'll give you the short version of my bio and you do the same."

A warning bell clanged in her head. "I'll be sifting through your past during our individual sessions anyway."

"Thought this was a conversation," he shot back. "What's the matter? Too above the rest of us to share?"

"I'm not above anyone," she said calmly. "I don't think it's necessary."

"I do. Tell you what. I'll keep it simple. Just answer one question from me, and I'll give you all my dirty laundry. Fair?"

The idea was tempting, but she squirmed in her seat. "This is stupid, we don't have to make a deal. Let's just keep our relationship strictly to the anger management classes and how they pertain to your treatment."

"Chicken? I bet you're so used to having everyone open up, no one ever demands the same of you. When was the last time anyone asked you questions about your past? About who you are? About what you want?"

He murmured the last question, and the heat in his seething gaze made her press hard against the door. Her heart thundered in her chest, making it difficult to take a cleansing breath. A strange surge of emotion rocked her normal calm and seeped out. "You don't know anything about me or my needs," she hissed out. "I have no trouble opening up."

"Good, then it's a deal. I'll give you the short version. Grew up in a tough Irish neighborhood where boys ended up being cops or firemen. I got jumped at the school bus when I was seven and put in the hospital. My father told me it would teach me a lesson to be either tougher or faster. I made sure I was both, and my training intensified when he began beating the crap out of me and my mother with a baseball bat. I learned how to steal, how to hide in the parks, how to survive, but I never got to save my mother. She died from a nasty fall deemed an accident. I left and dedicated myself to catching bad guys and working out my past karma with my asshole father. Thoughts?"

His speech was thorough and honest, and it broke her heart. Because beyond all that analysis was a little boy who'd never forgiven himself for not being enough. Her intrigue deepened when she realized how much more lurked beneath the surface.

What really freaked her out was how she suddenly wanted to find out.

"You nailed your anger issues and current occupation choice," she finally answered. "And though my heart breaks for the little boy you were, I've heard a bunch of horror stories that ended up far worse than yours. But it's not your mother you're still mourning, is it?"

His fingers clenched around the wheel. A dangerous cloud settled over him, holding a tinge of violence Arilyn bet would always be a part of who he was. "What are you talking about?"

Her instincts screamed for her to back off. He wasn't ready for a bigger truth. And, dear God, neither was she. "Nothing," she said lightly. They were almost there, and she had a sudden urge to jump out of the car before anything more passed between them. Arilyn had learned that a physical connection was difficult to fight, but an emotional one would destroy them both. "Oh, there's a spot."

He remained silent, maybe sifting through her odd answer to his speech. She regretted diving in when neither of them was ready. He pulled into the parking space and turned to face her.

"Thanks so much for the lift, I appreciate it," she said. "See you tomorrow."

Her hand never reached the latch.

He moved so deadly fast, she didn't even sense his movement. His fingers closed around her wrist, holding firm. The controlled grip did something weird to her belly, as if she was helpless under his command.

"Not yet."

She refused to look at him, keeping her head down. "Umm, I'll take a rain check, I really have to go."

"I'll be quick. Look at me."

His voice deepened, slowed. An explosion of heat and want slithered in her blood. She turned and met his gaze.

Lust.

No. Not possible.

She caught her breath at the naked desire on his face, in his eyes, as he looked at her. For a second she was caught up in a tidal wave of pure feeling, her usual logic and calm, serene thoughts like a crystal lake suddenly turning into a tsunami of choppy waves and tidal flooding. Her body shook in response to the primitive male need in his eyes. This was nothing but pure hunger at its elemental level.

"You promised an answer to one question."

Arilyn managed a nod. The words were stuck at the back of her throat, trapped there under his blistering male power.

"What's his name?"

She blinked. Her voice came out rusty. "Whose?"

"The man who fucked you up. The man who broke your heart. The man who pretended to transcend the physical and lied. Give me a name."

She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell. He'd tricked her with his own Jedi mind tricks, forcing her to give up the most private, vulnerable part of her soul. Her friends and family barely knew his name. How he knew a man had done something to her was beyond her understanding, but somehow she realized he had the same type of instinct that she did, and she had walked right into his trap.

She almost jerked herself out of his grip and left without another word. Until his voice softened and he spoke so gently, she felt wrapped up in a cocoon of protection and warmth. "Tell me, little one."

His endearment touched something deep inside, a yearning of such vastness she fought the trembling that wracked her body. If he had kept pushing, she could've fought him. But his tenderness broke her resolve.

"Jacob."

She didn't wait for a response. She yanked free of his grip, dove for the handle, and stumbled out of the car.

Arilyn refused to look back, but she already knew it was too late. Like a wizard casting a spell and obtaining a lock of hair, Stone now held her rare secret. With information came great power. The only way out was to make sure she obtained more on him to balance the scales. She ignored the flicker of guilt about violating her ethical responsibility as a counselor and reminded herself it was a good thing to probe Stone's past. For his own good.

Not hers.

She headed past the Swan Pastry shop, walked into Ray's Billiards, and found Poppy waiting for her. The place had stained, worn carpet, four pool tables, a full bar, and wood-paneled walls filled with weird mirrors and classic art like dogs playing cards. Straight from the seventies, Ray's catered to the hard-core crowd that came to gamble, downed shots of whiskey, and smelled of smoke and must. Cigars? They'd gotten busted for not adhering to the no-smoking laws, and her neighbor Mrs. Blackfire called the cops on them weekly. The fines must be in the double digits now, yet Ray stayed open every day.

He slid off the stool, called a good-bye to Ray, and gave her a hug. "How was your day, sweetheart?"

She hugged him back and craved to tell him the truth. Her pain-in-the-butt police officer was not only driving her crazy but starting to turn her on. Horror. Instead, she sighed. "Fine. How about you?"

"Won twenty bucks. Helped Ray with the lunch crowd. Did you talk to the center about trying to jail me?"

"I will, Poppy, promise. I'll set it up so they allow you to walk to Ray's when you want. You just have to make sure someone calls or texts me so I know where you are. Deal?

"Deal."

"Let's go home for dinner."

"'Kay. Listen, can you also tell them to do something about their chef? He sucks. Yesterday I wanted a cheeseburger with a Coke. They gave me grilled chicken with an Ensure. Do they think I have one foot in the grave? Ensure tastes like powdered chalk."

"If you have a burger craving, I'll bring you one. You can call."

"You're not my babysitter, Arilyn. You also try to sneak me a veggie burger, and there is a difference, kiddo." His voice softened with a twinge of sadness. "You already spend too much time with me. You need a man to settle down with and marry, not an old coot who keeps you running back and forth."

"I like your company, so stop. If you really hate it there, move in with me."

He shook his head. "No way. I'll never get any babies from you if you can't even date. Maybe I'll sign up for the bus trip to the city. They're going to see a play on Broadway."

Guilt coursed through her, but she swore to make the situation work. She knew the center was the best place for him. If only he could make a friend. Maybe with more time. "That sounds like fun. What play?"

Gray bushy brows snapped down. "Mamma Mia! Ugh, I hate Abba. I voted for Chicago. Hot women in prison. They shot it down. But I'll try."

Her lips twitched. "Come on. I'll let you have a real burger tonight after I make sure your insulin is okay."

"No Ensure?"

"Not tonight."

"And fries."

"I'll roast some sweet potatoes instead."

"I love you, A."

Damned if those ridiculous tears didn't sting again. "Love you, too, Poppy."

She linked arms and led him down the street. She'd just need to work harder and be more organized to get everything done. When she returned to the house with Poppy, she realized things weren't getting any easier.

The neighbor from hell had struck.

A large truck parked next to her house proudly claimed Rusty's Tree Service. Two bulky men wrapped up in ropes were hoisted on some type of contraption, calling orders back and forth to each other. A large buzz saw lay by their feet. Pine needles exploded everywhere, and the tree shook as if calling out to her in a plea for help. Mrs. Blackfire stood at her porch, arms crossed in front of her, watching the scene with a mad glee.

"Oh my God," Arilyn whispered. "She is evil."

"Who?" Poppy asked. "You cutting down that tree, sweetie?"

She launched herself toward the men. The loud buzzing screamed in her ears, and she waved her hands frantically, jumping up and down. The blond spotted her and turned off the machinery. "Hey, lady, you gotta get back. This is dangerous."

"No!" she yelled. "It's a mistake! You cannot cut down this tree!"

The other guy strolled over with a frown. "We already got paid. Now move aside."

And once again her temper snapped. The beautiful peace and harmony of her morning drifted away in a trail of smoke, leaving a mess of writhing emotions that flooded out. "This is my house, and I demand you back away from this tree!"

The two men shared a glance. "You live here?"

"Of course I live here! You took a job from a neighbor who has no right to cut down this tree. If you touch one more pine needle, I'll sue you!"

Mrs. Blackfire shouted from next door. "Don't listen to her! She's crazy. She believes in auras and crystals and refuses to even use a dryer!" She made motions toward the clothesline, which held all of Arilyn's linens and organic cottons to air-dry naturally.

"I'm trying to save the environment," she shot back. "Now back off or I'll call the police!"

"I paid you already to do this job," her neighbor called out. "Ignore her and cut down that tree."

"If you move any closer, I'll sue both of you," Arilyn warned.

Mrs. Blackfire snapped her mouth closed and glared.

"Please pack up your stuff and leave," she told the men.

They nodded. "Sorry lady. It won't happen again."

They gathered their equipment, got back in the truck, and pulled away. Shaking with fury, Arilyn tried to breathe, couldn't, then gave up altogether. She marched next door and stopped at the bottom step. "You lied to me," she said.

"I'm afraid for my life," she hissed. "When that tree falls on my roof and crushes me in my sleep, it will be too late."

Arilyn tried not to roll her eyes. "It's not even close to your roof," she pointed out. "You would've gotten me in big trouble with Genevieve."

"I need to protect myself. Besides, what are you doing in there?" She squinted over her glasses with suspicion. "I see that strange altar. Do you sacrifice things? Are you into witchcraft?"

Her body trembled with pent-up frustration. She had no time for this. "No, Mrs. Blackfire, I meditate. And you shouldn't be spying."

"I'm looking out for the neighborhood. I'm the one who caught the vandalizer over the summer. You should be grateful."

"I'm sure Gen is. I have to go." She turned and almost bumped into Poppy. "Ready, Poppy?"

Her grandfather didn't move. Just stared at her neighbor. "Who are you?" he finally asked.

"Joan Blackfire." She peered over her glasses. "Who are you?"