"Is that the cop in you speaking? Or the man who hates my brother with a passion?" she asked, her voice sparking with anger.

"I'll give you that one because I earned it."

She sucked in a surprised breath. She didn't know why she'd be so shocked that Dare would admit when he was wrong, but his doing so took the wind out of her righteous anger.

"Look, I can tell you for sure Brian would never knowingly hurt me."

"That's my whole point! I'm not saying he'd do it sober."

"He wouldn't do it drunk either!"

"How do you know? What makes you so damn sure?"

"Because he's the one who was there when-" No. No. No. She wasn't going there. Not now and not with Dare, a man who Liza couldn't be sure would really be there for her the next day let alone the next hour.

"When what?" Dare asked, his voice gentling.

"It's not relevant." She pulled her purse off her shoulders and dug for the keys to the rental car. "I need to go." She turned but didn't get far.

Dare grabbed her shoulders and spun her back around to face him. "You've been through more in the last few days than many people go through in a lifetime. You're exhausted and I respect that. I've been an ass and I know that too."

She blinked, stunned by him once more.

"I want you to go home and rest. Please. No work. Just go unwind," he said, back to the caring man she'd spent so much time with this past weekend. The man who made her think she could trust and maybe even fall hard. "Sam and I will arrange for drive-by protection when you're at home or at work," he promised.

"Thank you for that."

He inclined his head. "That's me doing my job. What I say next isn't. I'm coming over after work around six. I'm bringing dinner and we're going to talk."

"There's nothing to say."

He merely raised an eyebrow. "You can't shoulder all this yourself and you need to know I'm going to be there."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." The lump in her throat nearly undid her, but she wouldn't break down in front of him. "Brian could show up or do something and we'll be back to square one. I have too much going on in my life to deal with you too."

"But you will. Because I can't stay away." A sexy smile tipped his lips. "And you really don't want me to."

She had the sudden urge to step on his feet hard. "Arrogant jerk," she muttered.

"Go home, Liza. Rest. We have a lot to talk about when I get there."

Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, she turned and walked out. But she wasn't giving in. As hard as he planned to push her, she planned to push right back. He had no idea how hard she could fight to protect herself, even from people she cared about. She'd shut out her parents when she realized they couldn't give her what she needed.

And she'd shut him out too. Because this man posed a big risk to her-body, heart, and soul.

Eleven.

For some reason, Liza couldn't believe someone wanted her hurt. Or worse. Cars failed all the time. Surely when Sam investigated, he'd find out that Mason didn't know what he was talking about and something had happened at the dealership when she'd had her car fixed. Nothing else made sense. Similar to the rest of her life, which had somehow turned into a jumble she didn't understand surrounding Dare Barron.

By the time Liza's doorbell rang at 6:30 P.M., she told herself she was prepared for him. Walls up, guarded, prepared. Then she opened the door and came face-to-face with a man bearing wildflowers in one hand, a box of pizza balanced on the other, and a bottle of wine under his arm, and all her defenses went out the window.

Why did he have to be so handsome? Sexy. And caring. It was the caring that got to her every time. Because, really, when had anyone in her life given her something so basic and simple?

So necessary...

"Come on in," she said, gesturing for him to enter. "Can I take something from you?" she asked, struggling not to let him see how his very presence affected her.

"The flowers. I've got the rest."

She accepted the bouquet. "Thank you," she murmured.

"My pleasure." His words warmed her.

He followed her into the kitchen. In silence, she filled a vase with water and put the flowers inside, placing them on a prominent place on the counter. He worked alongside her, unnerving her because he knew exactly where to find the paper plates, the corkscrew, and even her wineglasses. One weekend in her home taking care of her and he knew the place as well as she did.

"Want to eat outside?" He gestured to the patio off the kitchen.

"Sure," she said, surprised by the idea.

A few minutes later, they were settled on a blanket on the ground, eating picnic-style. The air around them was hot and humid, but it was still a beautiful night.

"This was a good idea."

He grinned. "I figured we both needed to relax and unwind."

"Agreed."

He cocked his head to one side. "So can we eat and save the serious talking for afterward?"

Knowing there'd be no avoiding conversation, she appreciated the delay. "I'd like to enjoy my pizza without indigestion."

He shook his head and laughed. "At least you're not throwing me out."

She raised an eyebrow. "Would you go if I tried?"

"Nope."

He had no idea how happy that made her.

He bit into his pizza and she did the same.

For the next few minutes, they ate in silence. Enjoyable, easy silence. She could almost forget the reasons she had to keep him at a distance. But not quite.

So when they'd both finished and she pushed the pizza box off the blanket, she curled her legs beneath her and turned to face him.

"Why are you really here?" she asked.

Dare blinked, obviously surprised by the question. His brows furrowed in concentration, taking the question seriously. "Because I can't stay away. And because I want to be."

A delicious ribbon of warmth spread through her limbs. She nodded slowly, acknowledging the pull between them. "Attraction. I get it. I feel it too."

Dare let out a laugh that sounded harsh to her ears. "If that's all it was, I wouldn't be here."

Liza ran her tongue over her lips, tasting the wine she'd been sipping. "That's all it can be."

"And now we come to the crux of things. Why?" he asked.

Liza owed him more than her standard "because that's all I'm willing to give" answer. "For one thing, because I can't take the hot and cold reactions you have to me depending on my brother's behavior or your moods." Liza glanced down, unwilling to let him see how much he'd hurt her. Not wanting him to know why his withdrawal affected her so badly.

"Hey." He reached out and lifted her chin with his hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You deserve an explanation for that."

She swallowed hard. "Okay." She hadn't expected that, but she was curious.

"Oh boy." Dare leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the darkening sky.

She studied his chiseled profile, struck again by how handsome he was. Attraction? Oh, yeah, she felt that in spades. She wished it were all she felt.

"Remember when you told me about the night Stuart Rossman died? How you felt responsible?" he asked.

She narrowed her gaze and managed a nod. "Why?"

"Because I feel the same sense of responsibility."

"You? Why?" she asked, surprised.

"I was there that night. At the party."

She stared at him, stunned. "But you were only-"

"Fifteen. Yeah, I know. But I wanted to be like my brothers. I wanted to run with the older kids. And..."

He paused and she waited.

"I wanted to see you." An embarrassed grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Yep, I knew who you were way back when. I guess you could say I had a crush on you."

She flushed, also embarrassed by the admission. "Wow."

"Yeah. Well, you weren't home that night and I wish to hell I'd never gone."

They both sobered at the memory of what happened next. "You were there when that guy punched Stuart?"

Dare blinked and pushed himself to a sitting position. "When what guy punched Stuart?"

An uneasy feeling prickled over Liza's skin. "Brian told us that a guy from another school got into an argument with Stuart Rossman and threw the first punch. Stuart was drunk, stumbled and fell, his head hit the concrete and..." She didn't have to continue. He obviously knew the rest firsthand.

"Liza?"

Goose bumps prickled over her skin despite the heat, his deep tone scaring her. "What is it?" she asked.

"There was no guy from another school that hit Rossman." She studied his face, knew from his expression he wasn't lying.

"Then who did?"

He stared at her intently, not saying a word. He didn't have to. His silence spoke for him. If an outsider hadn't struck Stuart Rossman, then...

"No." She shook her head back and forth in denial. "Oh, no."

"I'm sorry." Dare's tone was gruff but sincere, and as much as he hated her brother she knew he was sorry for being the one to break the news. News she should have known over a decade before.

"Brian's friends backed up his story to my parents and to the police," she said. As if that made a difference.

She didn't realize she was shaking, rocking back and forth, until Dare moved in, pulling her against him in an effort to stop the trembling. She couldn't tell if the tremors stopped, but she liked the warmth and strength he provided. Needed the comfort.

"This shouldn't be so easy for me to believe," she whispered almost to herself. "I should be arguing with you. Calling you a liar. But it makes so much sense. The whispers, the secrecy, the meetings with my parents' best friend, the old district attorney."

Oh my-her parents. They knew. Brian knew. And they all covered it up. As if a boy's death and how it happened hadn't mattered as long as their son's life was spared. And for what? What had Brian done with the future his parents had no doubt bought for him except drink it away? No wonder Dare hated him so much.

She forced herself to turn and face him, pushing out of his arms to look at his tortured face. "What did you do?" she asked him.

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. "Everyone did one of two things. Stayed and cleaned up the mess while preparing a cover story or ran." He splayed his hands in front of him. "Both choices left Stuart Rossman bleeding out on the ground." He blinked hard. "I ran."

His words were short and clipped, filled with a suppressed rage, pain, and the obvious guilt that had been eating at him ever since.

"You were only fifteen," she reminded him.

"Should age excuse your brother?" Dare asked.

She looked down and shook her head. "It doesn't excuse me either. If I'd been home like I was supposed to be, there would have been no alcohol. No party." She swallowed over the painful lump in her throat. "No death."

"Would have, could have, should have," Dare muttered. "It doesn't change the past. For any of us. What matters is who we are now. And I made sure I would never forget that night."

She looked at him in confusion.

"The tattoo? The reason I snapped when you asked me about it the other day? I had the ink done as a permanent reminder." He turned so she could see his left arm, the detailed etching of the band encircling his bicep. "Look closely."

She ran her fingers over his muscled flesh.

"There's a Sanskrit symbol for karma, which I translate as atonement or getting out of something what you put in," he said gruffly.

She traced the foreign lettering and nodded. "I see it," she murmured.