Tessa's nose wrinkled. "Stinky habit."

"I'm working on quitting." The habit was new, a stress thing he hoped to give up in time. For now it was the best therapy for jumpy nerves. He'd rejected medication for his depression, preferring to work through the problem himself. "Got to admit I've got a carton packed, though."

Tessa eyed the single duffel bag he'd returned to the mainland to retrieve. "That all you got?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much, but it's crammed full. I think I've got about a week's worth of clothes."

She paused a beat. "You travel light."

Kenneth nodded, but didn't explain. At this point in his life, he wasn't into being weighed down with useless possessions. "I hope you have a washing machine. Otherwise I'll have to work naked." His tone came out a little huskier than he intended. The statement he'd jokingly offered sounded like a blatant come-on.

He mentally gave himself a swift kick and prayed his brand-new boss would take no offense. He wouldn't blame her if she tossed his duffel in the water and told him to start swimming.

A tinge of pink immediately crept into Tessa Lonike's cheeks. Her grip on the cat tightened, causing poor old Jasper to meow heartily and wiggle in disapproval. "You can have laundry privileges once a week," she allowed.

Kenneth psychically released the breath he'd been holding. A relief. She could be a good sport. Perhaps there was even a sense of humor lurking under her queen-bee att.i.tude. No time like the present to find out. He couldn't resist taking another poke at her. "Don't think you could handle me naked again?"

Catching on, Tessa resumed her normal, cool demeanor. She arched a brow, pursing her sensual mouth. Vivid jade green eyes ruled over the s.e.xy arch of her full, sensual lips. "I've seen you nude," she sniffed. "And it's nothing to get excited about."

Ken winced. Ouch. He'd thrust and she'd parried with perfect precision, unsheathing her claws and digging them deeply into his skin.

Too bad. All work and no play made things dull.

He tried again. "Any chance you might change your mind if you see me again with my shirt off?" He was pretty proud of his body, and he worked out regularly to regain the weight and muscle he'd lost after Jen died. For a while, the only nutrition he'd been consuming consisted of whiskey straight from the bottle. It was no way to live and yet another terrible way to commit suicide. Working out daily had helped ease his many frustrations. While pumping iron, he didn't have to think. Just do.

Pressing her mouth into a flat line, Tessa vehemently shook her head. "Not going to happen. I'm single, free, and I like it that way."

He couldn't help smiling. She looked like a little girl resisting a bite of food she found displeasing. "So what do you do for a thrill?"

"I get a book and a gla.s.s of wine," she shot back drily. "Unlike a man, that entertainment never disappoints me."

He studied her, intrigued. She didn't even crack a smile when she said it. "I'm always willing to try something new. Maybe you can recommend a few good books."

It dimly occurred to him he was doing something he hadn't thought would be possible ever again. He was flirting. With a woman he found absolutely and utterly adorable.

The realization hit like lightning streaking from the sky. For the longest time he hadn't been living. He'd been existing, a prisoner trapped in the gray, numbing fog of grief. Living with Jen's ghost had been an exhausting endeavor. He could second-guess and reshape the facts in his head, but nothing would change the actual event of her murder. If he wanted to stay sane, stay alive, then the past had to be put to rest.

Survival meant moving on. To a place he wanted to be.

He was thirty-six years old and starting life over, from scratch. For the first time in a long time he felt good. Maybe even happy.

Tessa pulled a face. "Don't be expecting any hearts-and-flowers romances. I like horror, a lot of good, b.l.o.o.d.y gore."

By the look of her extreme tats, that one should have been a no-brainer.

He nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Realizing he relied on her good graces to allow him to live on the island, Ken backed off. She'd made it pretty clear she wasn't particularly interested in him. In fact, she didn't even really seem to like men. Anytime a woman ragged on men it usually meant some heart-smashing b.a.s.t.a.r.d lurked in her past. And if that were indeed true, then the son of a b.i.t.c.h deserved a good a.s.s kicking.

Unzipping his duffel bag, he dug out a fresh pack of cigarettes.

Tessa frowned her disapproval and immediately pointed to the tower. "Up there, please." She plopped the cat back on the bed, and Jasper yawned, content to return to his nap. The big cat stretched out. The bed was his and he wasn't sharing.

Continuing their walk, they followed the stairs to the lighthouse tower. Bypa.s.sing the service room, where radio and other communication equipment was kept, they stepped onto a catwalk surrounding the ma.s.sive enclosed lantern. A circular iron awning overhead offered protection from the elements.

Tearing the cellophane wrapper off his cigarettes, Ken tapped one out. "So that still work?" he asked, digging in his pocket for his lighter.

Tessa nodded. "In olden times the lamp was powered by oil. It's electric now, drawing its charge off a small generator. And it still works." She patted the clear gla.s.s surrounding and protecting the lantern. "It's one of the oldest working lighthouses in Maine, built in 1870. Right now we stand one hundred and sixty- five feet above sea level." She smiled, truly animated for the first time since he'd arrived.

Flicking his lighter, Kenneth lit up and inhaled. A rush of calming nicotine filled his lungs. Now that the sun was beginning to set, the day was cooling off. The salty breeze riffling in from the sea carried a hint of the coming change in seasons. Winter would be fierce. "I would call that job security."

"It's been in the family so long, it's like an actual member."

"So this is where your people come from?"

Smile dimming a little, Tessa turned and leaned against the waist-high rail. "Considering my family has owned this island for more than a hundred and forty years, I guess you could say that." Despite her answer, she cast her gaze over the wide expanse of the all-consuming sea. "Before that, who knows . . . ?"

"A lot of history in this place."

"More than you'll ever know," Tessa muttered under her breath. "What about you, Mr. Randall? Why did you come back to Little Mer Island?"

Taking one final drag off his cigarette, Kenneth smashed out the remnant. Realizing he had no place to discard the leftover b.u.t.t, he tucked it back in the pack. "Looks like I'm going to need a few ashtrays."

Tessa nodded. At least he hadn't just tossed it over the railing. The idea of a pile of b.u.t.ts littering the base of the lighthouse wasn't appealing in the least. She didn't like the habit, but she could tolerate it as long as he kept his smoking outside.

"You been smoking long?"

Shaking his head, Kenneth turned and leaned into the rail. "Off and on," he said. "Mostly on lately."

"So is that part of the story you're going to tell me?"

He didn't get it. "Story?"

"The one about who you are, where you came from, and how you ended up here." Tessa's reason for asking wasn't entirely because she was interested in his life. She wanted a few details. Details she knew Gwen was already checking on the Internet.

As owner of By the Sea, a hotel on the mainland, her sister often ran background checks on applicants. No doubt Gwen was already doing a search as they spoke. Gwen was more trusting of the human race-but only so far. It helped that Kenneth had been staying at Gwen's place. Her sister would already have his driver's license and vehicle plate on file.

If there was anything lurking in the man's past, Gwen would find it. But Tessa also wanted to run her own litmus test. Just how honest would he be, face-to-face?

She already knew looks were deceiving. She'd been misled before by a handsome face and charismatic personality. And one time was enough. She wasn't anybody's fool anymore.

Hr shrugged. "Not much to tell. I was born. I grew up. I moved to Maine. End of story."

"Not much of a story."

"It's pretty boring."

The man played his cards close to his vest. Tessa wanted a peek. "If I were to ask you if your life was a drama, a comedy, or a tragedy, what would you choose?"

A long silence ensued. By the look on his face, her question struck a definite nerve. She already knew what the answer wouldn't be. Like a lightbulb shorting out, his expression instantly darkened. Whatever was going through his mind wasn't pleasant.

The sun was beginning to disappear on the far horizon, bathing the lighthouse in cool shadows. His face, too, was shadowed, closed. The easy rapport of the last few minutes had vanished like a ghost in fog. "You really want an answer to that?"

"Yeah."

He scrubbed his face with his hands. "Tragedy."

Tessa's stomach curled into tight knots. She'd seen him at his weakest. Whatever his past held, it was enough to bring this strapping man down to his knees. "Would it have anything to do with what happened last year?"

Fidgeting a little, his mouth pulled down. "You could say that." The turn in conversation appeared to be making him uncomfortable. She wondered when he would snap, tell her to back off and mind her own business.

Tessa considered, wondering just how much she should reveal from her point of view. Lying, pretending she hadn't seen him go into the water, simply wasn't an option. She didn't want to downplay the seriousness of the day. If the man required help-real help-she needed to know. The island was remote, not readily accessible. If any emergency arose, she was on her own.

"I was in the tower and I saw you go into the water that day," she admitted at last. "I've got a pretty good view up here, as you now know." Not wanting to spook him, she tried to keep her tone noncommittal. All she could do was show a willingness to listen and hope he wanted to talk.

Kenneth barely suppressed a groan. "I didn't think anyone actually lived on the island. All the signs say *private property' and *no trespa.s.sing.' "

A vague sense of uneasiness rippled through her. "Well, now you know differently. That's the way life is on an island with a working lighthouse . . . that and the sh.o.r.e patrol I handle. All part of the job of being a Lonike."

Amazed, he shook his head. "I can't believe you rescued me all by yourself." He was trying to take a detour, turning conversation away from himself.

Tessa motored straight ahead. "Training. I knew when you went under you didn't intend to come up again." There. She'd said it. He wasn't the first suicidal person she'd pulled out of the murky depths of the bay.

A deep, body-shuddering sigh suddenly moved him. "At the time, I didn't intend to." His muscles perceptibly bunched with tension. He clutched the railing with such a tight grip his knuckles began to turn white.

Holding him at arm's length was going to be difficult. He understood the pain of being alone, feeling lost in this world.

"I think we've all had those moments."

Kenneth's right hand moved to his left, fingering the plain gold band he wore. "I've had more than my share, that's for sure."

Tessa's eyes followed the movement. It was the first time she'd noticed. He wore a wedding ring. "You're married," she murmured, unaware she spoke aloud.

Gaze dropping to his hand, he hesitated an interminable moment. "Widowed. My wife died about a year and a half ago." He swallowed thickly. "You must have thought I was a cheat for hitting on you."

Tessa felt like a twit. She'd judged him on looks alone, and had been totally wrong. "I honestly didn't notice. I was too busy being p.i.s.sed off at you."

He nodded in agreement. "I did kind of invite myself." A pause. "You want me to leave?"

Tessa considered the idea, then shook her head. "I'll cut you some slack. At least two weeks' worth."

Relief brightened Kenneth's eyes. He nodded. "Thanks. I'll take every bit I can get."

"If you just want to kick back-"

With a shake of his head, he cut her off. "Thank you for the offer, but I actually want to work. It'll help take my mind off the pity party I've been throwing for myself since Jen died. I know I've got to get my s.h.i.t together and bag it. I've just been dragging my a.s.s."

Tessa studied him, taking in the beginnings of gray sprouting at his temples, the fine lines beginning to etch themselves at the corners of his eyes. She judged him to be in his late thirties, which meant his wife must have been young when she pa.s.sed away. "You mentioned your wife is no longer living," she ventured. "Was she ill?"

His jaw tightened seconds before he shook his head. "Murdered," he grated. "Some punk robbing a convenience store needed a getaway car. Jen had just pulled in to grab a cup of coffee, just like she did every day before work. He shot her and took her car. She didn't survive."

His answer was one Tessa hadn't expected. "That's horrible. I hope they caught the man who did it."

Shifting away from her, Kenneth dragged a hand down his face in agitation. His fingers rasped against the stubble he'd neglected to shave off. "They did, and the b.a.s.t.a.r.d got the death penalty. But it wasn't enough in my opinion. He didn't just kill Jen; he killed our baby." His words tumbled out unchecked, a burden he seemed incapable of bearing any longer than necessary.

His words delivered a jolt. Shock ran through her, a dismay so sharp she had to gulp down the sudden rise of bitter acid.

Tessa reached for the crystal hanging from her neck. "By the G.o.ddess." Events such as he'd narrated would bring even the strongest man to his knees. Losing a wife and a child to a random act of senseless violence had rightly torn his soul asunder.

Human beings can be such savage, horrible beasts.

A breathless moment pa.s.sed before Kenneth's dark gaze met hers. He tried to smile, but failed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to lay all that on you."

"I did ask," she reminded him. "I'm the one who should apologize."

"Don't. It happened and I can't keep sticking my head into the sand." A deep line formed between his brows. "That day I went into the bay . . . I'd looked at my life and didn't see anything beyond the water. All of a sudden the answer was there. I wasn't thinking when I did what I did."

Tessa glanced at his face. His brown eyes were shadowed, sad. He'd lost his place in the world, belonging nowhere. She realized his search had brought him back to the island. "I'm sorry to remind you."

Giving no reply, Kenneth shifted his attention back toward the water. "Thanks for saving my life. I appreciate it."

Tessa quickly shook her head. "Don't even mention it," she mumbled. Of course, there was no way to tell him the real truth: that she hadn't immediately dragged him ash.o.r.e. Because of the storm's severity, she'd ended up pulling him far beneath the waves, taking him to an underwater shoal. She'd held him in her arms, sharing her breath with him, keeping him alive until the waters calmed enough to return him to the mainland beach. Chances were he had no memory of the event whatsoever.

He shook his head. "From my side, the chance to say thank you is absolutely necessary. I was really wearing my dunce hat that day."

Wondering how thin the ice beneath her feet might possibly be, Tessa ventured, "Do you remember much?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "Nothing's really clear until the hospital in Port Rock. I got admitted on a 5150, an involuntary psychiatric hold."

Working with mainland search and rescue, Tessa knew the emergency codes all too well. "That must have sucked."

He laughed shortly. "Yeah, it definitely did. I had a lot of explaining to do to the resident shrink. Somehow I managed to turn my vacation into a one-way trip to the nuthouse."

"Sorry. I had to tell them what I saw."

Kenneth started to say something, stopped, then shrugged. "Don't be. The rest of the story's pretty simple. I went home to Jersey, but I couldn't get back on track, couldn't get a grasp on normal. It took a lot of sessions in therapy for me to figure out my life would never be normal again."

The breeze off the sea shifted, bringing his personal odor to her nostrils. He was standing so close she could smell the clean scent of his body spray, the alluring combination of musk and sandalwood.

Close enough to breathe in his masculine scent, Tessa licked her suddenly dry lips. Her inhumanly acute senses zeroed in on the pheromones emanating from his scent. He smelled like s.e.x-a rich, dark, ravenous scent that emanated from every pore.

Breath catching in a hitch, need immediately surged through her. Knees weakening, her head began to spin.

Fighting to regain control, Tessa pressed her fingers against her temple.

She forced herself to take in air, tamping down her body's response to the silent but urgent call. Acutely aware of his longing, her body's response was natural, one she couldn't control. As a Mer, Tessa was extrasensitive to a male's unspoken reaction to her presence. It helped her gauge the suitability of a prospective mate.

And there was no denying Kenneth Randall's unconscious craving. All the verbal and physical signals pointed in one direction.