He knew. She stood there, looking down at him, and she knew that he knew. She couldn't speak.

"See me as I really am." His imitation of her was a little cruel. "You goddamn did the same thing to me that you accused me of doing to you. You don't want to spend the next few weeks with me. You want to spend it with that wild punk kid Tom Paoletti-the one who was always stirring up trouble. The hell-raiser. The one with the reputation for getting girls into trouble. Is that what you want, Kelly? You want to be in trouble? I'll get you into trouble."

He started climbing up the trellis on the side of the balcony, and she backed away, her heart racing. "Don't."

Tom dropped heavily back to the ground. "Great. Great. Now you're afraid of me. This is so perfect." He turned to look up at her, his stomach churning and his teeth clenched. His chest ached. "Fourteen years I've been with the SEALs. Fourteen years I've been a man that people respect and admire. I'm the commanding officer of the abso-fucking-lutely most elite SEAL team in all of the U.S. Navy. But you look at me-you, who always, always treated me decently, like a real human being-and all you can see, all you probably ever saw, is some fuckup."

"That's not true!" Kelly faltered. "Well, it's not entirely true. I thought . . ."

He just stood there, waiting for her to go on, waiting to see if she'd even try to explain.

"I didn't want entanglement," she whispered. "I didn't want to start anything that was going to be hard to end. I honestly thought you'd be glad to have that kind of easy relationship for the summer." She leaned over the railing. "Tom, you told me you don't do love. . . ."

"You're right," he said. "You're absolutely right." He didn't do love. Christ, he didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking.

"I'm sorry. And I'm not afraid of you. Don't ever think that. See, I'm afraid of me. If you get too close . . ."

He laughed harshly at that. "Yeah, right, I'm that irresistible."

"You are," she told him, wiping her face as if she was crying. Jesus, that made his chest hurt even worse. He didn't want her to cry. "Don't you feel it? Even with me up here and you down there? . . ."

"Yeah, I feel it," he said as he walked away. He definitely felt it. Funny thing was, he'd thought what he was feeling was something else entirely.

11 August When Kelly pulled into the driveway, there was a car she didn't recognize next to Joe's station wagon. It must've just arrived, because its occupants were climbing out.

The driver was an imposing African-American man who managed, without being the tallest man she'd ever seen, to be the absolute biggest. She was amazed his shoulders fit inside that little car.

A sleek, athletic-looking woman came out of the front passenger side, and a long-haired twenty-something man with a handlebar mustache and goatee, mirror sunglasses, and chains on his boots emerged from the back, stretching his long legs and yawning.

For a moment, Kelly hesitated, completely blanking on who this could possibly be. She'd called the Visiting Nurse Association just this morning, ready to start the search for a good candidate to come in and help with her father. She was looking for someone strong with a solid sense of humor. But these three, although winners in the strong department, looked more like professional wrestlers than nurses.

And then she remembered. Tom's teammates. His friends. He'd told her they were arriving this afternoon.

God, she was exhausted. No wonder her memory was shot. She'd slept poorly last night, tossing and turning-that was no big surprise. This morning, she'd gone looking for Tom before she drove into Boston, but he was nowhere to be found.

Also no big surprise.

She still wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him besides the fact that she was horribly sorry, but something else definitely had to be said.

As she parked and gathered up the trash from the sandwich she'd had in the car on the way home, Tom came out from around the side of her father's house as if he'd been out on the deck and heard the car doors slam.

He glanced in her direction only once and only briefly. His welcoming smile was decidedly for his friends. "Hey."

As Kelly watched, Tom shook hands, first with the black man, then with the younger man, and finally with the woman.

A woman. Even her tired brain recognized that as odd. Last she'd heard, the SEALs were still an exclusively male organization. No women, no exception.

As Kelly climbed out of her car, Tom hung on to the woman's hand far longer than he had for his male friends. She was gorgeous, Kelly realized. Her skin was mocha colored, but her hair had red highlights and her eyes were a vivid green. And she had a lithe body that matched the sheer perfection of her face. She may not have been large breasted, but she was perfectly proportioned and athletically trim. And she had amazing posture. Positively regal.

"Thanks so much for coming," Tom said to her and to the younger man as well. He glanced at the black man. "I'm assuming Jazz gave you both a full sit-rep. You know there's a solid chance you're here for nothing?"

The woman's voice was melodically low and as smoothly beautiful as she was. "Sir. As I told Lieutenant Jacquette, I'd willingly take unpaid leave to back you up even if only to protect you from your own shadow."

Tom smiled wryly. "That could well be the situation. And please, let's not stand on formalities, Alyssa. May I call you Alyssa?"

Kelly stopped short. Did he know he was turning on the charm, that he was oozing charisma and that solid, confident sensuality that had driven her crazy for going on two decades?

Alyssa smiled at Tom. She had a gorgeous smile, gorgeous white teeth. "You can call me whatever you like, L.T., although I prefer Locke."

Kelly watched Tom, waiting for him to see her, to introduce her, to let go of Alyssa Locke's hand.

He released Locke, but didn't even glance over at Kelly. "Locke it is. From now on, this is Jazz, Locke, not Lieutenant Jacquette. And if you figure out what the hell to call this long-haired deadbeat-" Tom slapped the younger man's back. "-let me know, okay? His given name's Roger Starrett but I've never heard him called either of those. He's Houston or Ringo or Sam. Occasionally Bob. He swears there's a logic to all the nicknames, but I can't keep 'em straight."

"Sam'll do just fine, Miz Locke." He had a thick Texas drawl. Dew jist fahn. That accent couldn't possibly be real, could it?

The woman stood up even straighter. Kelly wouldn't have believed it possible. "Just Locke," she said coolly.

"For the duration," Tom said, "I'm-"

"L.T.," Jazz interjected. "L.T.'s good enough, sir."

"I'm Tom," he said firmly. "As of right now, erase sir from your vocabularies, too."

Jazz looked as if he had an unpleasantly painful case of gas.

As Kelly headed up to the deck, to where Joe and her father were waiting, Tom pulled Jazz aside.

And the man called Sam sidled up to Locke. "I just want to take this opportunity to remind you that just because you're working with us in this situation, doesn't mean you've got your foot in the door at Coronado. A woman in the teams is never going to happen." His voice was low, but Kelly overheard quite clearly as she passed by.

"Gee." Locke's voice was edged with sarcasm. "It's so nice that you're concerned for me, Roger."

"Oh, but I am," he said completely insincerely. "I'd sure hate to see you get your little hopes up way too high."

"There are two things in life that I'm sure I'll never be," Locke said far too sweetly. "One is a SEAL. That I regret. I believe I'd be an asset to the teams. The other, however, is a redneck asshole. No regrets there." She smiled at him. "Too bad you can't say the same."

"This is going to be one hell of a vacation," Sam growled.

"I'm not on vacation," Locke replied. "I'm here to work."

"Okay, grab your gear," Tom said, leading the way to the deck. "Come and meet the other members of our team."

Now he was going to introduce Kelly. This was when he'd actually look into her eyes, and she'd try to send him a telepathic apology.

"This is my uncle, Joe Paoletti," Tom continued, "and Mr. Charles Ashton, who has graciously volunteered the east wing of his house for our use. You'll be bedding down there, as well as helping set up a temporary HQ. Joe and Mr. Ashton are veterans of the Second World War. Mr. Ashton was with the Army-the Fifty-fifth-and Joe was OSS. They've volunteered to help us."

And this is Kelly, who wants only sex from me. Yes, Kelly supposed there were worse things than not being introduced.

She stepped forward. "I'm volunteering, too." She held out her hand to Jazz. "Hi, I'm Kelly Ashton. It's a pleasure to meet you-Jazz, right?"

She shook with Sam/Roger/Bob/whoever, and with Alyssa Locke as well. Alyssa did more than shake her hand. She sized Kelly up with her cool green gaze.

That's right, Kelly tried to say with her smile and her eyes. Tom's mine, babycakes. Hands off.

Except Tom still didn't do more than glance briefly in her direction. Maybe he wasn't hers, not after the things she'd said last night.

"Dr. Ashton's got a pediatrics practice in Boston," he told his teammates. "She won't be around a lot."

"Oh, but that's going to change," Kelly said. "I'm taking the next three weeks off. I spoke to my partners this morning."

Tom looked at her then. Direct eye contact for the first time that day. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . .

"I'll go in if the McKennas need me," she told him, willing him to hold her gaze, to believe her silent message. "But that's it for me for a while. I hit some kind of wall last night."

She couldn't read his expression, and he turned away before she could say what she most wanted to say. I'm so sorry you caught most of the fallout.

"Well, great," Tom said. "We've got a doctor on the team. Not that we need one. Here's hoping we'll continue not to need you, Doctor."

Kelly's heart sank as he led his friends inside. Her unspoken apology was apparently not accepted.

"Are you . . . alone?"

Tom looked up from one of the new computers that had arrived just that morning. He and Jazz, Sam, and Locke had set them up in this room in the east wing of the Ashton's enormous house.

Their new headquarters had once been the Ashton's music room-it still held a grand piano they'd pushed into the corner. They'd moved in tables and desks and a bunch of corkboards from an office supply store.

Joe and Charles had spent a good hour using pushpins to tack up all the pictures Tom had of the Merchant.

"Yeah," Tom said, spinning in his chair to face Kelly. "I'm alone."

She came in cautiously. As if she wasn't sure of her welcome.

"Where'd they all go?"

He leaned back, looking at her. She was wearing a sundress with a tiny flower print. With her hair up off her shoulders she looked cool and sweet. Almost angelic.

"Your father's taking a nap on the deck. Joe's sitting with him. My team's just gone out to get familiar with the town, particularly the hotel and the marina. Locke's probably going to check out the church tower. One of the tricks to stopping a terrorist attack is to occupy all the good sniper positions."

"I thought you said this Merchant guy specializes in car bombs."

"He does. I'm just covering all the bases."

"Alyssa Locke and Jazz both called you . . . was it L.T.?"

Tom nodded. "It's short for Lieutenant. It's a little more respectful than Tom, not as formal as sir."

She moved farther into the room, looking at the pictures on the boards, looking at the computers. "This is . . . pretty intense."

"Do you want something, Kelly?" he asked abruptly. "Because I'm in the middle of trying to track down a van."

She gazed at him, her eyes wide. It wasn't her innocent face. This one was for real. She was uncertain, a little afraid. "Yes, I wanted to . . . talk to you. I had the opportunity this morning to do a little research about patients who've suffered feelings of paranoia caused by severe head injuries."

"Ah," he said. "You're here as a doctor."

She shook her head. "No, I . . ." She took a deep breath. "I'm here as your friend."

He didn't say a word. He just waited for her to go on, torturing himself by watching the way the light from the windows gleamed on the smoothness of her shoulders.

"The more I read," Dr. Ashton continued-it helped if he thought of her as Dr. Ashton, "the more I was convinced." She took a step toward him. "I really don't think that's what's going on with you, Tom. The paranoia most patients experience is less specific than what you described to me. It's more like waves of anxiety and vague feelings of persecution. I didn't see a single mention of the kind of severe condition that actually has people seeing a specific threat-and especially not a threat to people besides themselves. Paranoia generally means someone's after you. The way you described it, this guy doesn't even know you're here."

"So either my case is so unusual, I should be written up in a medical journal, or-"

Kelly took another step toward him. "Or you're not paranoid. Maybe you really did see the Merchant. I've been thinking about this all day and I think you should do more than this." She gestured around the room. "I think you should call someone. Tell the authorities that you've seen this man here in Baldwin's Bridge."

She was close enough now for him to smell her subtle perfume.

"Yeah, well, I've already made that call," he told her. "I did it right away. But no one's taking me seriously. And if I persist in calling for help, I'll be putting my career in jeopardy. There's that rear admiral I told you about-Tucker. He's been after my ass for years. I have no doubt that he'd try to use this situation to force my retirement." He laughed in disgust. "Now that sounds like feelings of persecution, doesn't it? But it's true. Admiral Crowley said as much to my face. He's the one who warned me to back off."

"How about the FBI, then? Can you call them?"

"Yeah, I might do that. There's also a guy I know in the SAS. I'm waiting to see if I can find any concrete proof the Merchant is here, though. Because if my own superiors don't believe me, why should anyone else, you know?"

"This must be hard for you," she said softly.

Tom stood up. "Let me see if I've got this straight," he said. "When you're my team doctor, that's when we talk. But when we're lovers, all we do is-"

"I want us to be friends," she said, flushing slightly.

"That's not the way I understood it. You told me last night all you wanted was to-"

"I also came to apologize," she said. "Last night I-"

Tom moved closer to her. "Apology accepted. Because you know, you were right."

He stopped hardly a foot away from her. He was close enough to see it all in her eyes. Everything she was feeling. Anxiety. Hope. Desire.

Desire.

He knew Kelly had come here because she could no more stay away from him than he could stay away from her.

This conversation was just an excuse-a way to get her in the door. She didn't really want to talk to him. She was here because she wanted him, wanted sex. She was just too damned polite to admit it.

Tom touched her. Just one finger down the side of her face.

She trembled and he knew he was right.

"We've got a few weeks," he told her, told himself, too. "Let's not waste a second."

He kissed her, and she exploded, kissing him back furiously, frantically, almost knocking him off his feet.