He started back to the kitchen. “Why are you here alone?”

“Because this is my house, this is my place, because I wanted to be alone.”

He glanced at the table, noted the laptop, a scatter of files, and a glass of red wine. He picked up the bottle on the counter, approved the label, and allowed himself a change of mind.

He got a wineglass out of one of her cabinets.

“Just make yourself the hell at home.”

“Willy came by to see me.” He poured himself a glass of wine, sampled it, then set the glass down to strip off his coat.

“Then I assume we both got the same information, and there’s nothing to talk about. I’m working, Coop.”

“You’re frustrated and you’re pissed off. I don’t blame you. The fact is, they don’t have much to work with, and none of the lines of investigation are going anywhere. That doesn’t mean they stop, just that they might have to change the angle.”

He picked up the wine again, glanced around the room while he drank. “Don’t you eat?”

“Yes, often when I’m hungry. Let’s just say I appreciate you coming by to reassure me the wheels of justice are turning, and add that I’m aware Willy is doing and will do his best. There. We talked.”

“Do you have a reason to be pissed at me, or is it just in general?”

“We’ve had some long and very physical days around here. I’m on deadline on an article I’m writing. Writing articles helps pay for that wine you’re drinking, among other things. I’ve just been told that it’s very unlikely that whoever shot a cougar that I caged will be identified or apprehended. You waltz in here when I’m trying to work and help yourself to the wine this article will help replace. So we’ll say it’s in general with a special section just for you.”

“I didn’t waltz.” He turned and opened the refrigerator. “Shit, Lil,” he said after a short exam, “even I do better than this.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Finding something to fix for dinner.”

“Get out of my refrigerator.”

In response, he simply opened the freezer. “Figures. Bunch of girl frozen meals. Well, at least there’s frozen pizza.”

He thought he could hear her teeth grinding all the way across the room. It was, he admitted, oddly satisfying.

“In about two minutes I’m going to get my rifle and shoot you in the ass.”

“No you’re not. But in about fifteen minutes, according to the directions on this box, you’ll be eating pizza. It might help your mood. You get some itinerant volunteers,” he continued as he switched on the oven. “Some one- or two-timers.”

Annoyance didn’t seem to work. She tried sulking. “So?”

“It’s a good way to scope out the setup here, the staff, the routines, the layout. A lot of the farms and businesses around here do the same. Hire somebody on in season, a few days, a few weeks, whatever works. I’m going to do the same in another month or so.”

He put the unboxed pizza in, set the timer.

“What difference does it make? Willy thinks he’s done and gone.”

“Willy could be right. Or he could be wrong. If a man knew what he was doing, and wanted to, he could make a nice shelter for himself in the hills. They’re pocketed with caves.”

“You’re not making me feel any better.”

“I want you to be careful. If you feel too much better, you won’t be.” He brought the bottle over, topped off her wine. “What’s the article about?”

She picked up the wine, scowled into it, then sipped. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“You’re writing about that? Can I read it?”

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she repeated, “until when and if I decide otherwise. Tossing a frozen pizza in the oven isn’t going to make me feel warm and fuzzy about you.”

“If I was after warm and fuzzy, I’d get a puppy. I’m going to sleep with you, Lil. But you can take some time to get used to the idea.”

“You had me once, Cooper, and you could’ve kept me. You dumped me.”

His expression flattened out. “We remember it different.”

“If you think we can just go back-”

“I don’t. I don’t want to go back. But I’m looking at you, Lil, and I know we’re not done. You know it, too.”

He sat on the bench with her, sipped his wine, and poked at the photos she had fanned out beside the files. “Is this South America?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like going places like that?”

“Exciting. Challenging.”

He nodded. “And now you’ll write a story about going to the Andes to track cougar.”

“Yeah.”

“Then where?”

“Where what?”

“Where will you go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any plans right now. This trip was the big one for me. What I got out of it personally, professionally, what I can generate from it with articles, papers, lectures. The research, the findings.” She moved her shoulders. “I can channel a lot of that into benefits for the refuge. The refuge is the priority.”

He set the photos back down to look at her. “It’s good to have priorities.”

He moved in slowly, giving her time-this time-to resist or decide. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to stop him, only watched him the way she might a coiled snake.

Warily.

He caught her chin in a light grip, and took her mouth.

She wouldn’t have said he was gentle, or tender. No, she wouldn’t have called the kiss, the tone, the intent either of those. But there wasn’t the rough fire he’d shown her before. This time, he kissed her like a man who’d decided to take his time. Who was confident he could.

And though his fingers were easy on her face, she knew-didn’t he intend she would?-that they could tighten at his whim. That he could plunder instead of seduce.

And knowing it sparked excitement in her blood.

Hadn’t she always preferred the wild to the tame?

He felt her give, just a little. Just a little more. Her lips moved against his, warmed and softened, and her breath hummed low in her throat.