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G rayson hadn’t planned to kiss her, but he hadn’t lied. He didn’t regret it. How could he? She’d tasted sweet, like the berries and spice from the wine she’d been drinking. And her lips had been soft and warm against his. She’d stilled when their mouths touched, but then when she’d responded… Well, it had taken all his discipline not to scoop her up in his arms and take her to his bedroom.

She’d been silent on the ride back to her apartment, and he’d left her to her thoughts because he had his own rumbling around in his head. The most vocal one was, when could he kiss her again? He’d told her she’d have to ask, and he’d hold to that, but he wished he hadn’t said it. No, it was the right decision, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Harlow Pressley had buried her sexuality because of a man who had mentally and physically abused her. She might deny he physically abused her, but those bruises on her arms said otherwise, and he didn’t doubt Pressley had left bruises on her skin throughout their marriage. Now she was emerging from the safety of her cocoon, and he had the honor of witnessing the first tentative steps of what promised to be a rare and beautiful butterfly.

He inwardly rolled his eyes. Getting a bit fancy there, dude. Yeah, but it was true.

“What if Anthony’s there when we arrive?” she said.

They were only a few minutes from her apartment complex. “He won’t be. Liam’s there, and he would’ve called if Pressley was hanging around.” Before he’d walked down to the beach to join her, he’d called Liam and told him to go to her place and make sure Pressley or his spy wasn’t around. Liam would stay until he saw that Harlow was safely in her apartment, locked up for the night.

“If he does show up, what should I say when he asks where I was, because he will.”

He glanced at her. “You say it’s none of his business.”

“That will just make him angry.”

Although she was taking those tentative steps in finding herself again, she was still cowered by the man, and that made Grayson mad. Not at her, but at Pressley. “You left your regular phone at home, right?” When she nodded, he said, “Then if you feel you have to give him an answer, tell him you were home and didn’t feel like talking to him tonight.”

“Since my car is still parked there, that should work.”

“Have you thought of getting a restraining order against him?”

“If I did that, he’d never let me see Tyler.”

He wasn’t letting her see her son now, so what difference did it make? But Grayson got her reluctance to stir the pot. “I think you should demand to see your boy, even if Pressley insists on being there when you do.” The Phoenix Three team could set up surveillance for the meet to make sure she stayed safe. Pressley would never know they were there.

“I’ve begged him to let me spend time with Tyler, but he says I can only see him if I go back.”

He wanted to wrap her in his arms and give her everything she wished for. “Instead of begging, demand to see him. Threaten to cause trouble if he doesn’t agree.”

“What kind of trouble could I cause? Everything is to his benefit, and everyone is on his side.”

Grayson pulled to a stop behind her car. “Is there anything about him you know that would embarrass him? You said he has a mistress. Use that. Threaten to tell anyone who’ll listen if he doesn’t agree to give you time with your son.”

She gazed out the window. “I know worse than that.”

He tilted his head, her voice so soft—almost a whisper—that he strained to hear her. “Such as?”

“It’s…” A shudder traveled through her. “It’s bad.”

“Harlow, look at me.” He waited for her to face to him. “If I’m going to help you, you need to tell me everything you know about him.”

“I was waiting until I was sure I could trust you.”

“But you still don’t?” That hurt. Yet, she hadn’t known him long, and if this secret was the reason for the fear in her eyes, he couldn’t make it personal.

“I think I do. I want to.”

They needed to have a serious talk, and she needed to spill Pressley’s secrets. All of them. He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Go inside. I’ll come to you shortly, and we’ll talk.”

She stared down at the hand he had over hers, then she nodded as she opened her door and slid out without looking at him. Why was that disappointing? He watched until the door closed behind her, then he moved the car to an empty space.

Liam jogged out of the shadows and joined him. “Nice car. You should let me borrow it, impress my new golfing buddies.”

“Sure. Come pick it up tomorrow. No one was hanging around when you got here?”

“All clear. I didn’t want to say anything in front of Harlow, but Pressley has a longtime mistress. Heard that one over lunch at the club.”

“She knows. She thinks along with his regular mistress that he’s had numerous affairs. See if you can get some names.”

“I’m on it.”

“There’s something she wants to tell me about him that according to her is really bad. I’m going to move the car to a visitor’s space and slip up to her apartment to talk to her.”

“Want me to stick around, make sure Pressley doesn’t come back?”

“No, nothing you can do even if he does.”

“’Kay. Hope you meant it about this Jag, ’cause I’m coming to get it tomorrow.”

Grayson tossed him the key. “Take it now. I’ll drive your car home.”

“Cool.” Liam removed the key to his SUV from his key ring and handed it over. “Mine’s parked a few spaces over.”

“Yeah, I saw it.” Grayson left Liam drooling over the Jag and went to Harlow’s apartment.

She must have been standing at the door because she opened it as soon as he knocked. She’d changed into shorts and a loose top that fell off one shoulder. He tried not to drop his gaze to her long legs and bare feet, but his eyeballs apparently weren’t so great at obeying. He’d never had trouble before keeping his eyes where they belonged when with a woman, but this woman was playing havoc with his mind. And his eyeballs.

She locked the door behind them. “Would you like something to drink? I have wine, water, tea, or I could make coffee.”

“Coffee would be great.”

He followed her to her kitchen. She twirled a pod carousel that was on the counter next to a coffee maker. “What flavor?” She shrugged. “I’m a coffee snob.”

“What flavors you got there?” He scanned the labels. “Will you think less of me if I told you I’ve never had flavored coffee?”

She laughed, a sound he found himself wanting to hear more of. “No, I won’t think less of you. Here, try the hazelnut. That’s a good one to start with.” She put the pod in the machine and pressed a button, then selected one for herself. “I think I’ll have this one.”

“Chocolate raspberry lava?” he said, reading the label. He gave an exaggerated shudder, making her grin. “That’s just wrong.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” she said, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

Her eyes were bright and filled with amusement. She took a sip of her coffee, humming a noise that he was sure she didn’t intend to sound sexy but was. “Try it,” she said, holding out the cup. “It’s so good.”

Although he had no desire to try chocolate raspberry coffee, he took the cup from her. He could see from her expression that she wanted him to like it. He didn’t like the thought of disappointing her, so he was glad that it wasn’t as awful as he’d expected. “Okay, not bad, but a little too sweet for me.” He handed the cup back, then picked up his own and tried it. “This is more to my liking. Actually, it’s pretty good.”

She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I thought you’d like the hazelnut.”

Thrown off-balance from feeling a strange sense of connection to this woman he barely knew, he just nodded. He couldn’t explain it, but he was drawn to her. Maybe it was the way she laughed, or the way she loved weird coffee. Maybe it was something else entirely.

“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you my favorite place to drink coffee.”

She led him through the living room and out to a balcony. Two chairs were in the small space, and he frowned, wondering if she’d ever brought a date out here. Had she even had a date since leaving her ex? Although, based on the way she dressed and how timid she’d been when he’d first met her, there was no way she’d dated since leaving Pressley.

Something eased inside him… He didn’t do jealousy, so that hadn’t been the cause of the tightness in his chest. It was probably just that he worried about some douchebag taking advantage of her.

After they were seated, he took in the view and imagined that like the beach was his, this was her happy place. The lake shimmered under the three-quarter moon, and white ribbons of light danced over the water’s surface. It wasn’t his ocean, but it was peaceful here.

“Where are Homer and Marge?” he asked. He needed to know what secrets she held, but he wasn’t in a hurry to spoil this moment. He’d like to know a more about her.

“I’ve never seen them at night, so I imagine they’re sleeping.”

He sipped on the hazelnut coffee, which was growing on him. What could he ask her that didn’t seem like prying? He settled on, “If you could only live on one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?” It was the kind of question someone on his team would ask when they were on a mission and bored while hunkered down, waiting for orders to move.

His team had been the best. He’d put them up against anyone and anything. What-if questions had become a game between them, and the more outrageous the question and the answer, the better. There’d been that one time when the question was, if you could only keep one extremity, which one would it be? Sometimes they got morbid, because who knew, you might be the one blown to bits the next day, so they embraced black humor to diffuse tension and stress.

Stetson—a.k.a. Tex—had said in his Texan twang, “My hand, ’cause I sure ain’t gonna wanna use my foot to rub one out.” They’d always been able to count on Tex for laughs when they needed them the most.

“Lobster drenched in butter. What about you?”

It took a second to remember what they’d been talking about. “Depends on the season. When I was sitting under a blistering sun with seventy pounds or more of gear on my body and sweating buckets, I’d imagine eating a big bowl of salted caramel ice cream. In the winter when temperatures would drop to zero-butt freezing, I’d try to convince my brain that my MRE was really a piping hot bowl of spicy chili. I could seriously live on ice cream and chili.”

“What’s an MRE?”

“Meals ready to eat.” He shuddered. “Nasty stuff.”

“What was it like being a SEAL?”

“It was some of the best days of my life and some of the worst.” He glanced over at her and smiled. “I miss it and I don’t.”

“That’s an interesting answer.”

“I’m an interesting guy.” He grinned to let her know he was teasing. He’d intended to get to know her, but she was turning the questions on him. Maybe that meant she wanted to get to know him, too. But it was getting late, and they still needed to talk about the secret she knew.

As much as he didn’t want to spoil the enjoyment of the night and talking to her, it was time to get down to business. “Tell me about this bad secret.”