What if Kane didn’t know? Struck, she sat back on her haunches. What if he didn’t know Simon was protected? Wouldn’t his first threat to her revolve around the most precious thing in her life, the one thing she would die to keep safe?

“Zoe.”

The sponge she’d been using to spread the grout fell on the tiles with a plop.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” Brad stayed in the doorway, one shoulder resting on the jamb. As he’d been standing for the last several minutes, watching her.

A lot going on inside that head, he knew. He’d seen all of it run over her face.

“No, that’s okay.” She bent back to the work. “I’m nearly finished here.”

“The rest of the crew’s about to break for lunch.”

“Okay. I’ll be down as soon as I’m done. It’ll give the grout a chance to dry.”

He waited until she’d worked her way over, was half in, half out of the doorway. Then he crouched. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Her hand hesitated, then picked up the rhythm again. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve spent enough time looking at you to know when something’s going on inside. Tell me what happened since yesterday, Zoe.”

“I will.” She put the sponge in the bucket she’d set just outside the room. “But not just you.”

“Did he hurt you?” He grabbed her hand, used his free one to tilt her face around.

“No. Let go. My hands are all covered with grout.”

“But he did something.” His tone had chilled, the way it did when he was chaining down temper. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I just wanted some time to think about it, work some of it out, that’s all. It’ll be easier for me to tell everybody about it all at once.” His hand was still cupping her cheek. And his face was very close. “It’d be easier for me, too, if you wouldn’t touch me that way right now.”

“Right now?” He trailed his fingers back to the nape of her neck. “Or ever?”

She wanted to stretch into that hand and purr. “Let’s start with now.”

She started to push to her feet, but he was already up, her hand still caught in his as he drew her up beside him. “Just tell me this—Simon’s okay?”

She could fight attraction. She could even fight the sexual buzz. But she was going to have a very hard time fighting his obvious and deep concern for her son.

“Yes. He’s fine. He really wanted to come today. He likes being with you—with all of you,” she added quickly. “But I didn’t want to talk about this in front of him. At least, not yet.”

“Then let’s go down and talk about it, and I’ll come by and see him later this week.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I like being with him, too. With both of you.” He brushed the side of her throat, her shoulder. “Maybe you could invite me to dinner again.”

“Well, I . . .”

“Tomorrow. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow? We’re just having spaghetti.”

“Great. I’ll bring some wine.” Obviously considering the matter settled, he tugged her out of the doorway. “We’d better go down and clean up.”

She wasn’t sure when she’d lost her footing, or why it seemed so impossible to refuse. He’d boxed her in, Zoe realized as she scrubbed up for lunch. There was no question about that, but he’d done it so neatly the lid was on before she’d seen it coming.

Besides, that was tomorrow. She had enough to worry about today without getting worked up about a plate of spaghetti.

It might have been a work in progress, but the kitchen was the best gathering place. A sheet of plywood on two sawhorses served as a table, and there were buckets and ladders for chairs.

Dana scooted a bucket over to her. “Is that peanut butter and jelly?” she demanded, eyeing the sandwich Zoe had unwrapped. “Chunky peanut butter and grape jelly?”

“Yeah.” Zoe started to lift one of the triangular halves to her mouth, and noted Dana practically salivating for it. “You want it?”

“It’s been much too long since I had a good pb and j. Half of yours for half my ham and swiss on rye.”

They made the exchange, then Dana took a test bite. “Excellent,” she said around a mouthful. “Nobody makes these like a mom. So, are you going to tell us what’s going on, or do you want to eat first?”

Zoe glanced up, then shifted her gaze around the room. Everyone was watching her. Waiting. “Am I wearing a sign?”

“Might as well be.” Malory dipped a spoon into her carton of yogurt. “You looked upset when you came in this morning, but more like you were trying not to look upset. Then you shot straight upstairs. Plus you haven’t said anything about how the kitchen looks now that it’s painted.”

“It looks great. I meant to tell you.” Never easy with being the center of attention, Zoe tore her half sandwich in two. “And I wanted to wait until everybody was taking a break before telling you what happened last night.”

“We’re taking a break now.” Dana rubbed a hand over Zoe’s thigh. “What gives?”

She took her time in the telling, wanting to make it clear, wanting to be sure she didn’t leave out any details. “It was different than it was with you. With everybody here who’s had an experience with Kane. Even different than what happened to us here in the house, the first month.”

“Did you know it was him?” Jordan asked her.

“That’s the thing. I never stayed in any one of the three . . . places”—she supposed she should call them that—“long enough to feel it. And I don’t think I pulled myself out, the way some of you were able to. There wasn’t time for that. It was more like being somewhere, then closing your eyes for a second and being somewhere else.”

“Let’s take them one at a time.” Flynn had already pulled out a notebook. “Swinging in a hammock.” He tapped the page. “Were you in your yard?”

“No. I don’t have a hammock. I’ve never actually lain around in a hammock in the shade with a pitcher of lemonade and a book. Who has the time? It’d be nice, and I was thinking about not having much breathing room over the next few weeks, then, pop, I’m swinging in a hammock and drinking lemonade.”