“Did they find anything there?”

“You’re asking me to feed you information about evidence, Skeeter.”

“I’m goin’ to ask you one more time: Did they find any evidence there?” He paused a second. “Like a pocket knife?’

“How’d you know?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Because I’m missing my pocket knife and my prints are all over it. It was my grandfather’s, and I carry it with me all the time. I noticed it missing two days ago. Someone close to me must have stolen it and planted it in your boyfriend’s office.”

“How do I know you didn’t break in and leave it here?”

“I’m gonna pretend the woman who accused me of being intelligent this morning isn’t asking me if I left important evidence at a crime scene.”

Crappy doodles, he was right. When I’d been attacked back in July, Mason had convinced Joe that Skeeter hadn’t been behind the attack, that he wouldn’t be sloppy. You couldn’t get much sloppier than this.

“I need you to have a vision of Deveraux and tell me what you see.”

“No.”

“You work for me, Lady.” His words were harsh.

“If I force a vision of Mason, it would be for him, not you,” I said hatefully.

“Fine, justify it however you like. I just want to know what you see.” Then he hung up.

Could Skeeter be right? Was the break-in really about him?

I knew Mason was investigating Skeeter. Did he have information that an enemy of Skeeter’s would want? What could it possibly be?

What a mess.

By the time the deputies left shortly before midnight, Mason was a bundle of nerves. He sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the surface as he stared out the back windows.

“I can make you a cup of chamomile tea,” I said, rubbing his shoulders. “It might help you relax.”

“Sure,” he murmured, then looked around. “How’s Muffy? Is she still upset?”

“No, she’s asleep on our bed.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes. “Rose, I’m so sorry.”

I leaned my butt on the table next to him. “Why are you saying you’re sorry?”

“They could have really hurt Muffy, and it was my fault.”

“But they didn’t,” I said. “She’s okay.” I pushed on his chair, and he scooted it back, making room for me to sit sideways on his lap. “Look at all the times Muffy’s survived break-ins at my house. She’s a fighter.”

He looked into my eyes as he lifted his hand to my cheek. “I figured that out when we were running in the woods. She’s a special dog, and she’s important to you. If I were ever the cause of her or you getting hurt, I don’t—”

I grabbed both of his cheeks and lowered my lips to his, kissing him gently. “We’re both fine.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger. Maybe we should go away somewhere.”

I leaned back and gaped at him. “What?”

“I’ll take you to Italy as an early Christmas present. We can leave Saturday.”

I shook my head, suddenly scared. “You’re serious.”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

I stood up. “You can’t just take off. You have a job. You just got into trouble over something tonight. What’s your boss gonna say if you just take off without notice?”

“I don’t care.”

“What about my job? I’m setting up the landscaping office.”

“You told me yourself that you won’t have much to do besides busy work until the first of the year. Who knows when you’ll be able to leave after you reopen? Now’s the perfect time.”

“Mason, I need to know what you’re not telling me.”

He stood, moving in front of me and pulling me into his arms. “Nothing, I’m just spooked. Someone broke into our house and nearly hurt your dog. I want to keep you safe.” He kissed me, his mouth insistent, and tightened his arms around my back. “I’ve done nothing but work since we’ve been together, and this break-in has made me realize I’m wasting precious time that I could be spending with you.” He turned me around and rested my bottom on the kitchen table. “If something happened to you . . .” His mouth found mine again, his lips and tongue desperate and insistent. He grabbed the bottom of my sweater, breaking our kiss so he could pull it over my head.

As I fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, his mouth returned to mine, his hands moving behind my back to unfasten my bra. He slid the straps over my shoulders and down my arms. I spread his shirt apart and let my bra fall to the floor. Spreading my palms over his bare chest, I looked up into his eyes. I gave him a saucy grin as I reached down and began to unfasten his belt.

He kissed me again as I worked on unfastening his pants, then he kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants and boxers so that he was standing in front of me in nothing but his opened dress shirt.

His hands slid down my sides, then up to cup my breasts. His mouth lowered to one of them, and I grabbed the back of his head as I arched my back to give him better access.

He pushed me back so I was lying on the table, then reached for the button on my jeans as I lifted my hips so he could pull them off with my panties.

He stood between my open legs, his eyes roaming over my body as I lay on our kitchen table, feeling naughty. Good girls didn’t have sex on their kitchen tables, but I didn’t want to be a good girl with Mason. “You make me feel very wicked,” I confessed.