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  Mel choked on a bite. “Um…What do you mean?”

  “Just wondering why he’s hanging around.”

  Everyone looked at her, interested. Of course they were, it was her own business, which made it front-page news.

  Where the hell was Dimi? Mel thought frantically. Dimi would lick the sugar off her fingers or something and suitably distract attention away from this issue. Mel glanced at Ernest, the only person here who’d been around when Eddie and Bo had shown up the first time all those years ago, but he was looking right back at her, no expression.

  Was it possible Ernest didn’t remember Bo? “Bo’s an old acquaintance,” she finally said, hoping they’d all leave it at that. “And I’m letting him use some office space.”

  “What’s the story with you two?” Danny asked, perceptive as always.

  “No story,” she said. “There’s no story.”

  The entire staff shot her a collective gaze that told her she’d have to do better. But until she heard back about the deed—and how it was falsified—she wasn’t saying a word.

  “Is this guy hassling you or something?” This from Kellan, with all the toughness his twenty-one years afforded him. He set down his donut and puffed up a bit. “Cuz I can talk to him for ya.”

  “Me, too,” Ritchie said, now also resembling a puffer fish.

  Silly. Stupidly male.

  But they meant it. Everyone else nodded, too, and Mel’s throat went tight. These guys, her friends, her family, would do anything for her. Anything except the one thing she needed: turn back time. “No one’s hassling me,” she said. “He’s just…visiting.” She tried to smile reassuringly but suddenly the whole thing felt like a big, fat elephant sitting on her shoulder.

  “You sure?” Danny asked her quietly, watching her with those steady eyes. “Because I have a weird feeling you’re not telling us everything.”

  If he only knew…But they weren’t going to let it go. Of course they weren’t going to let it go, that would have been easy. So what could she say? Look guys, he’s saying Sally screwed us years ago and I never knew it. He’s holding the deed and none of us are safe. She couldn’t say those things, not until she knew for sure. Should she say that he was a friend? Or how about an ex? “He’s an ex,” she tried.

  “Of Dimi’s?” Char asked in surprise, because of course Mel wouldn’t have an ex.

  Yeah, they’d buy Bo being Dimi’s ex, since Dimi had dated just about every single guy in California. And also in Nevada. And Arizona. Why not Australia, too?

  Beside her, Danny went utterly, unhappily still. And damn it, she just couldn’t do it.

  “Actually, he’s my ex,” she said on a pained sigh.

  Charlene’s jaw dropped. “Yours? But…”

  “But you never even date,” Al finished for his wife.

  “Hey, I do so, just…just not very often.”

  “So what happened?” Char asked. “Because damn, girl, he’s hot.” She caught Al’s long look. “Well, he is.”

  “We didn’t work out, that’s all. He…” Mel wracked her brain for a plausible reason to have dumped Bo, and caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Her heart kicked hard.

  Bo himself.

  Was he also enjoying her discomfort? Oh, yeah, no doubt. “He, uh, had this habit.”

  “Drugs?” Charlene whispered, horrified.

  Mel couldn’t see Bo’s face, but felt the heat of his silent challenge. She squirmed but reminded herself that really, this was all his fault. “He hummed during sex.”

  Silence.

  “I could have lived with that,” Charlene finally said.

  “Yeah, Mel, that’s not nearly a good enough reason to dump a guy,” Ritchie told her.

  Bo came to a stop right behind Mel, and everyone’s eyes widened. Cornered, she pretended not to see him, and did as she always did with her back to the wall—came out swinging. “He also had a teeny, tiny—”

  Bo cleared his throat. She knew he’d leaned in close because she could smell him, some complicated mix of soap and man, and then he said silkily in her ear, “You want to start telling secrets now? Really?”

  No. No, she didn’t. Unable to pretend any longer, she turned. Damn it, Char was right. He was hot. Very hot. He stood there wearing a pair of faded-to-perfection Levi’s and a soft-looking chambray blue button-down, opened over a white tee. Same boots as yesterday. Her heart bumped involuntarily against her ribs, both irritating and a little embarrassing. He still hadn’t shaved, which created the thought before she could stop it: what would that rough jaw feel like scraping over her skin?

  She didn’t care! she reminded herself. He was the equivalent of the big bad wolf, here to blow down her house of straw. His hair, wavy to just past his collar, was doing its own thing today, which meant a long lock fell over his forehead. She supposed most would say the color of the strands was brown but there was blond and red in it, too. A lion’s pelt. She figured Bo would enjoy that analogy. He certainly had the watchful ways for such a comparison, and a graceful, easy way of moving that utterly belied how in control he was at all times. His eyes, as they landed on hers, were clear and fathomless as the sea, giving nothing away, except maybe a tad bit of disbelief at her “teeny tiny” comment.

  “There you are,” she said with a bright smile. “We were just, um, having a discussion.”

  In fact, all gazes had swiveled to the “part” they’d been discussing—his crotch.

  “G’day,” Bo said, keeping his gaze level on Mel. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, uh, we’re in the middle of a staff meeting. An important staff meeting.”

  Rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, he shot her a smile that wasn’t quite friendly. “And in these staff meetings you always discuss the size of your ex-boyfriends d—”

  “We were just warming up with some watercooler talk,” Mel said quickly. “Harmless tradition. Anyway, no one but staff allowed, so you should probably…” She waggled her fingers to suggest he scoot along. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  His eyes said that he did, very much, and in them was also a promised retribution, making her wonder at the stupidity of baiting him.

  “How about this,” he said calmly. “You give me a minute of your time, or we talk in public, right here at your staff meeting.”

  Damn it. He’d do it, too. “I suppose I can give you a minute.” She purposely looked at her watch, sighed, then headed through the lobby toward her office.

  Bo followed, of course. She could feel his gaze watching her every move. It wasn’t often that she thought about being feminine, and it sure as hell wasn’t often she wondered if she passed muster, so the normally unconscious movement of walking across the room suddenly became awkward. She felt exceedingly aware that her hair was wild, that she’d thrown on coveralls with little to no concern that they made her look like a short box, that her radio and cell clanked together loudly…

  Completely unaware of—or ignoring—her discomfort, Bo leaned in ahead of her and pushed open her office door.

  The unexpected gesture of chivalry caught her by surprise, and she tripped over her own two feet as she looked up into his enigmatic gaze.

  “In,” he said, lending his hands to the cause, pushing her into her office, not exactly gently, negating the chivalrous gesture he’d just made. He shut the door, then turned to face her as he rolled up his sleeves. “Now,” he said, and locked the door, the sound of it clicking into place, making her pulse skip.

  “Uh, there’s really no need to lock it,” she said.

  “Right. So your band of merry men can barge in here to save you when you start screaming. No, thank you.”

  She reached behind her to grip the desk as she leaned back in a false show of calm and relaxation. Her fingers touched her metal envelope opener and, in reflex, closed over it. “Why would I scream?”

  “I don’t know, why would you stand around the watercooler discussing the size of your ex’s dick?”